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“We have not been pulling either your chain or your leg, Colonel,” Cronley said.

“You have just heard from a woman who is both a Mossad agent and an NKGB colonel. She wants fifty thousand dollars—in addition to the fifty thousand dollars you have already given her. Is that correct?”

Gehlen and Mannberg nodded. Cronley said, “Yes, sir.”

“Where is this woman located?”

“The last we heard,” Gehlen said, “in Leningrad. But there’s a very good chance she’s en route to Vienna.”

“Why?” Ashton asked, and then interrupted himself. “First, tell me why you have given her fifty thousand dollars.”

“Because she told us she would need at least that much money to get Polkóvnik Likharev’s wife and sons out of Russia,” Gehlen said.

“Jesus Christ!” Ashton exclaimed, and then asked, “You think she can?”

“We’re hoping she can,” Gehlen said.

“Where the hell did you get fifty thousand dollars to give to this woman?”

Gehlen didn’t reply, but instead looked at Cronley.

“In Schultz’s briefcase,” Ashton said, “there is fifty thousand dollars. The admiral gave it to me just before we got on the plane. He called it ‘start-up’ money, and told me to tell you to use it sparingly because he didn’t know how soon he could get you any more. That suggests to me that the admiral didn’t think you had any money. Hence, my curiosity. Have you been concealing assets from the admiral? If not, where did this fifty thousand come from?”

“From me, Polo,” Cronley said. “I came into some money when . . . my wife . . . passed on. A substantial amount of cash. Cletus pulled some strings with the judge of probate in Midland to settle the estate right away. I gave a power of attorney to Karl Boltitz—he’s going to marry Beth, the Squirt’s sister—and he got the cash, gave it to Clete, Clete took it to Buenos Aires, and then when he sent Father Welner over here, got him to carry it to me.”

“Fifty thousand dollars?” Ashton asked incredulously.

“Just for the record, I’m loaning that fifty thousand, repeat, loaning it, to the DCI. I expect it back.”

“Cletus didn’t tell me anything about this.”

“Maybe he thought you didn’t have to know,” Cronley replied.

“And now this woman wants another fifty thousand. What are you going to do about that?”

“Whatever General Gehlen thinks I should.”

“You’ve got another fifty thousand?”

“Father Welner brought me something over two hundred twenty thousand.”

“Does Mattingly . . . does anybody else . . . know about this?”

Cronley shook his head.

“Do you realize how deep you’re in here?”

Cronley nodded.

“I asked before,” Ashton said. “Do you think this woman can get Likharev’s family out?”

“Nothing is ever sure in our profession,” Gehlen replied.

Ashton made a Come on gesture.

Gehlen took a short moment to collect his thoughts.

“I’ve learned, over the years, when evaluating a situation like this,” he said, “to temper my enthusiasm for a project by carefully considering the unpleasant possibilities. The worst of these here is the possibility that we are not dealing with Rahil at all. One of the reasons there was that wave of promotions to which Ludwig referred a moment ago was because there were a large number of vacancies. Fedotov purged the NKGB—”