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Cronley turned to Ostrowski. “Max, see who’s under the hood.”

“I will remind you, Captain Cronley, that I’m in charge here,” Rodinski said.

“No you’re not, Pietr. Until General Serov shows up, he is.” Cronley pointed at Colonel Cohen. “Colonels rank the hell out of majors.”

The door opened, and Serov entered the room.

“Problem solved. Here’s the good general now. How they hanging, Ivan?”

Serov gave him a cold look, then walked up to the hooded man.

“Who the hell is he?” Serov demanded. “Goddamn it, James, I thought we understood each other.”

“We don’t know who he is, Ivan,” Cronley said. “Ask your guys. They brought him in. And look what he had with him.”

He held the briefcase open for Serov’s inspection.

Serov’s eyes widened, and he turned to the men who had grabbed the hooded man. They bolted to attention.

“I don’t know if I should put you in for a decoration or have you shot for disobeying orders.”

Then Serov turned and jerked the hood off the man. He was nearly bald, short, and pudgy. He wore a black business suit, with a clerical collar at his neck. Rope bound his hands in front of him, and there was a cloth stuffed in his mouth.

The man glared at Serov.

“Take that gag off,” Serov ordered. “Untie his hands.”

His men quickly complied.

“I am General Serov of the NKGB,” he said, his tone cold. “And that is Colonel Cohen of the American Counterintelligence Corps. Who are you, Father?”

The man didn’t reply.

“Search him,” Serov ordered.

One of his men said, “We have already done that, sir.”

He handed Serov what looked like a wallet and a rosary. Serov went through the wallet.

“Well, Monsignor Rosetti,” Serov then said. “While I regret the circumstances, it is a genuine pleasure to meet a papal chamberlain. Have you ever met a papal chamberlain, Colonel Cohen?”

“Can’t say that I have. As a matter of fact, I don’t know what a papal chamberlain is. And now that I think about it, I don’t know what a monsignor is either.”

“The level of your ignorance vis-à-vis the Holy Mother Church is utterly shocking,” Serov said, with mock contempt. “I suggest you take notes, Colonel, as there will be an examination.”

The monsignor looked in disbelief and/or confusion between the two.

“I shall start with basics,” Serov went on. “A monsignor is a priest who has been honored with that title for his services above and beyond the call of duty.”

“Okay,” Cohen said.

“Do I have that right, Monsignor?” Serov asked.

“That is correct,” the monsignor said, with some hesitation.

That’s the first time he’s said anything, Cronley thought.

“And a chamberlain?” Cohen asked.