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“But they could get word to Serov,” Cohen said, “with the truck’s description and license plate. And have his people meet it here.”

“I don’t know if this qualifies as one of your facts, Jim,” McGrath said, “but if we’re going to go to His Holiness with this, we should apply some real pressure. Tell him (a) that it’s going to be rumored in the world press that they have many millions of Nazi dollars in their vault, (b) that they had better get rid of it, and (c) that we know they know of many places where all that money can be put to good use.”

“The press wouldn’t touch a story like that,” Williams said. “Attacking the Vatican is number one on their no-no list.”

“Janice would touch it,” Ginger said. “Janice would love a story like that.”

“Who’s Janice?” Williams asked.

“My fiancé’s former girlfriend,” Ginger said.

“Miss Janice Johansen of the Associated Press,” Cronley said. “We were—are—just friends. Nothing more. When Serov kidnapped Colonel—”

“Friends? Pinocchio, your nose is growing,” Ginger said, her tone mock sweet.

“Kidnapped who?” Williams asked.

“Colonel Robert Mattingly, chief of DCI-Europe,” Cohen furnished. “Super Spook had turned Colonel Sergei Likharev. Serov wanted him back. Wanted him and his wife, Natalia, and their two boys.”

“I never heard about that,” Williams said. “There was nothing in the papers. I didn’t even hear about it back-channel.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear about it,” Cronley said. “I came up with a Russian who Serov wanted even more than Likharev. We made the swap. In exchange for going onto the Glienicke Bridge with me, to take pictures, Janice filed a story that the exchange was of a Russian officer who had been arrested for public drunkenness in West Germany, and an American officer who had been arrested for drunken driving in East Germany.”

“I saw that in Stars and Stripes,” Williams said. “My reaction was that our colonel could forget becoming a general.”

“It is to be devoutly hoped,” Cronley said. “Anyway, Janice would love to have this Vatican story. I think we should drop her name into our conversation but keep her out of it for now.”

“You’re not really serious about kidnapping an archbishop?” Williams asked.

Colonel Cohen stood up, and said, “Let’s go.”

“For a moment, I was actually worried,” Williams said.

Cohen shrugged. “Where I’m going, Colonel, is to see what advice General Serov can offer vis-à-vis kidnapping a senior member of the Vatican hierarchy with as little fuss as possible. If you don’t want to come, give me the keys to your car.”

Williams took the keys from his pocket and handed them to Cohen.

“Colonel,” McGrath said. “Ginger, because of the baby, obviously can’t go. But I can. And I might be useful.”

Cohen looked at him.

“Maybe and maybe not,” he said, finally. “But the bottom line is, Father Jack, none of this is any of your business. So, thanks but no thanks.”

“Hey, that’s my call, Mort,” Cronley protested.

“I planned to get into this in the car,” Cohen said. “But, what the hell, now’s as good a time as any. The next time you address me, Captain Cronley, you will call me Colonel and preface your comments with ‘sir.’ Say ‘Yes, sir.’”

When Cronley did not immediately reply, Cohen went on. “I may very possibly land in Leavenworth because of this operation, but if that happens, it will be because I’m calling the shots, not taking orders from a twenty-two-year-old captain. Now say ‘Yes, sir,’ Captain, or consider yourself under arrest.”

After deciding this was not the time or place to get into a who’s-in-charge war, Cronley said, “Yes, sir.”

“Go get Ostrowski,” Cohen ordered, and walked out of the room.

Colonel Williams was left alone in the dining room with Father McGrath and Ginger and her baby.

Then he hurried out of the room.

“I’m coming,” he called.