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“As far as I know, sir, he does not.”

“And you didn’t think you should tell him?”

“I thought he might object, and I wanted to make that tour.”

“I will be damned!” Wilson said.

“Why do you want the lieutenant in DCI?” Wallace asked.

“I thought it would be nice if at least one of the pilots in the aviation section of DCI-Europe was a bona fide U.S. Army aviator.”

“I didn’t know there was an aviation section of DCI-Europe,” Wallace said.

“As of today, there is. Or there will be as soon as I can sign the appropriate documents, which by now Fat Freddy and Brunhilde should have prepared.”

“You’re going to have an aviation section for the Storchs, is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m going to have an aviation section in which I can hide the Storchs. There will also be other aircraft, two L-4s or L-5s and, if General Greene can pry one loose from the Air Force, a C-45. I’m going to tell him just as soon as I can get on the SIGABA, which I think should be up and running by now.”

“He’s unbelievable! My God, he’s only a captain!” Colonel Wilson said. “A very young and junior captain! And he’s going to tell a general officer what he wants?”

“What’s that Jewish word, Billy

?” Wallace asked.

Cronley saw on Winters’s face that he had picked up on Major Wallace calling Lieutenant Colonel Wilson by the diminutive of his Christian name.

“‘Chutzpah’?” Wallace went on, “Meaning audacity? Isn’t that what Patton was always saying, ‘L’audace, l’audace, toujours l’audace!’?”

“It also means unmitigated effrontery or impudence,” Wilson said.

“I remember when you were a captain, they said the same things about you,” Wallace said. “And I remember your defense: ‘I did what I believed to be the right thing to do.’”

Cronley now saw on Winters’s face his expectation that Major Wallace would now suffer what a major could expect after speaking so disrespectfully to a lieutenant colonel.

“Tom,” Cronley said, “now that you’re in the intelligence business, you’ll have to understand that nothing is ever what it looks like.”

Winters looked at him, but did not reply.

“And look at you now, Billy,” Wallace went on, “the youngest lieutenant colonel in the Army.”

Wilson looked as if he was going to reply, but changed his mind.

“There’s more,” Cronley said. “Freddy did some research on how the OSS operated administratively, and found out they had people working for them they called ‘civilian experts.’”

“So?” Wallace asked.

“So now DCI-Europe has two such civilian experts. They will be paid—I’m quoting what Freddy found out—‘the equivalent of the pay of commissioned officers with similar responsibilities, plus a suitable bonus for voluntarily undertaking assignments involving great personal risk, plus a death benefit of ten thousand dollars should they lose their lives in the performance of their duties.’”

“We had a number of such people,” Wallace confirmed.

Cronley saw in Winters’s expression that he had picked up on the “we.”

“And now DCI-Europe has two of them. Maksymilian Ostrowski, former captain, Free Polish Air Force, and Kurt Schröder, former hauptmann, Luftwaffe.”

“I can’t find fault with that,” Wallace said. “What about you, Colonel?”

“I hate to admit it, but it makes sense.”