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“I don’t know what to say, sir.”

“Try ‘Good night, Jim. Sleep well.’”

Karwowski smiled and shook his head.

“Have you ever heard the expression ‘WASP’?” Cronley asked.

“The insect?”

“It stands for ‘White, Anglo-Saxon Protestant.’ WASPs are sort of the American version of British Landed Gentry. They think of themselves as slightly superior to everyone else. Judge Biddle is known as a Super-WASP. Keep that in mind when you introduce yourself to him tomorrow.”

“You’re not going to introduce me?”

“I’m going to Castle Wewelsburg with Colonel Cohen tomorrow, and Max thinks his accent would be a problem, but that the judge will be dazzled with your Buckingham Palace accent, so you’re on your own.”

Karwowski again smiled and shook his head.

“Max thinks I need a bodyguard, so he sent one with me. As you leave, take him with you. There’s a car outside.”

“And if he doesn’t want to go?”

“You are now Max’s Number Two. You have that authority to tell him what to do.”

“Two questions: Should I leave the Thompson with you, and what’s Castle Wewelsburg?”

“Leave the Thompson, you can pick it up in the morning. And Max will explain the Castle Wewelsburg situation to you when you get to the Mansion.”

After a moment, Karwowski said, “Good night, Jim. Sleep well. And thank you.”

—

When the door had closed after him, Cronley went into the wardrobe, hung his tunic on a hanger, and then sat down at the SIGABA.

“Fulda.”

“James D. Cronley for General Greene.”

“Hold One.”

“Greene.”

“James D. Cronley for you, sir. The line is secure.”

“Put him on.”

“Good evening, sir.”

“What has Colonel Cohen done to you now, Jim?”

“Actually, sir, we’re getting along pretty well.”

“Really?”

“Yes, sir. Tomorrow he’s going to show Ivan Serov and me Castle Wewelsburg.”

“Serov is in Nuremberg?”

“Yes, sir. He is wearing the shoulder boards of an infantry colonel and told us over dinner—which he paid for—that he’s now in charge of security for the Soviet judges.”