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“Yes, he was.”

“Why did you turn Stauffer over to this French officer?”

“Because he asked, and because I knew the French have interrogation techniques I’m not allowed to use. I really want to get the bastards in Odessa.”

“I don’t want your mother to hear this,” Cronley’s father said softly.

“And I don’t want to lie to her. So, what do I do?”

“I won’t tell her we talked. It’s a lie, but . . .”

“I’m sorry I’m putting you on the spot, Dad.”

“The reverse is true, son. I love you, and I’m very proud of you.”

There was a click on the line, and after a moment Cronley realized his father had hung up.

“Break it down, Fulda,” he said.

He sat for several moments at the SIGABA device, inhaling and exhaling audibly.

When he rose and went into the bedroom, Janice Johansen was sitting up in the bed.

“You look, Adonis,” she said, “as if you need a little tender care. Why don’t you take a shower and come to bed?”

He did.

VII

[ONE]

Soldier’s Field

Nuremberg, American Zone of Occupation, Germany

0805 22 February 1946

When Colonel Serov and Major Alekseevich sat down for breakfast with Cronley and “Casey” Wagner, the Russians were wearing “regular” as opposed to the ornate dress uniforms they had been wearing the night before.

These consisted of a brimmed cap with a black crown and a red band; a high-collared light brown tunic, with the insignia of their rank on tabs at the neck; what Cronley thought of as black “riding breeches”; knee-high black boots; and a brown leather belt. No medals at all. Both had pistols in tan leather holsters, held up by a leather belt across the chest. Major Alekseevich had what looked to Cronley like a leather-cased Leica 35mm camera hanging from his neck.

“Good morning,” Serov said. “And who is this handsome young man?”

“Karl-Christoph Wagner,” Cronley replied. “We call him ‘Casey.’ Casey, this is Polkovnik Serov and Major Alekseevich, his aide-de-camp.”

The men shook hands as a waiter appeared. After he had taken their order and left, Serov asked, “Why do I suspect, James, that Casey here is your aide-de-camp?”

“Maybe because you have a naturally suspicious nature?” Cronley replied. “Actually, Casey is a DCI agent. I’m telling you that because I know your naturally suspicious nature will make you check him out, and you’d learn that anyway.”

“Please don’t take offense, Casey, if I say I think you must be the youngest agent in the DCI.”

Casey gave him a dirty look, but didn’t say anything.

“That’s true, Ivan,” Cronley said. “But you shouldn’t judge people by their appearance. Casey was responsible for finding out how Odessa was moving people around Europe in Stars and Stripes trucks.”

“Really?”

“Really, Ivan. And Casey was largely responsible for the entire operation in which we bagged SS-Brigadeführer Heimstadter and SS-Standartenführer Müller.”