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“Your Grace, I was . . . kidnapped . . . by these people off the street. And they have the briefcase.”

The archbishop looked around the room and spotted the open case and the stacks of currency beside it.

“That briefcase and its contents,” the archbishop declared, indignant, “are the property of the Papal Delegation to the United States Military Government of Germany. I demand its immediate return and our immediate release.”

“Duly noted, Your Grace,” Serov said. “Do you have any further demands before we get to the reason why I asked that you join us here?”

“Just who are you, sir?”

“I am General Ivan Serov of the Soviet Union’s NKGB, Your Grace. Please forgive me for not introducing myself upon your arrival. And these gentlemen are Captain James D. Cronley, of the American Central Intelligence Directorate, and Colonel Mortimer Cohen, of the U.S. Army Counterintelligence Corps.”

The archbishop’s eyes darted toward Cohen and Cronley, then stared at them as if he wanted to memorize their faces. The look of fear was no longer on his face.

“Now,” Serov said, “as for the message we want you to deliver to His Eminence Cardinal von Hassburger. The . . . How much was it, Super Spook?”

“A little over two million U.S., General.”

“Ah, yes. The two-million-dollar-plus withdrawal of illicit funds from the Vatican Bank that Monsignor Rosetti was in the process of delivering to representatives of Odessa has been seized by the United States DCI working in conjunction with the Soviet NKGB.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“I’m disappointed. I was led to believe you enjoy His Eminence’s confidence. But no matter. When you relay our message to him, His Eminence will understand. Please assure him that neither the NKGB nor the DCI has any intention of trying to embarrass the Holy See in this matter—for example, to have it spread all over the world by the press. Quite the contrary. We are hoping that he—the Holy See—will work with us to eliminate a truly unholy mutual threat.”

“I will say again, General Whatever-your-name-is, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“And once again, no matter. What is important is, His Eminence does. I’m going to give you a telephone number at which His Eminence, if he so desires, can reach me to arrange for a meeting. Got the message straight, Your Grace?”

“I heard what you said.”

“Now, insofar as returning you is concerned, will you give me your word not to make a fuss while you’re being moved? In order to avoid the gag and the tied hands?”

“And the bag on my head?”

“That, unfortunately, I consider necessary. Well?”

“You have my word.”

“Put the bags on them,” Serov ordered.

From under his bag, the archbishop said, “This will not end here, General!”

“I certainly hope not, Your Grace. I await His Eminence’s call.”

Rodinski opened the door, and Serov’s men guided the monsignor and the archbishop through it.

When the door closed. Cronley looked at Serov.

“Now what?”

“They will be released near the Kaiser Wilhelm Church. I am confident that as soon as he can, the archbishop will let the cardinal know all is not well. But because he cannot tell him while General Clay is showing him around the church, he will have to do it later. That gives us plenty of time to go to your safe house in Zehlendorf.”

Serov made a Follow me gesture. He led them down the stairs, back through the tunnel, and then down another flight of stairs. There was no door this time, and Cronley saw that they were in a garage.

Half a dozen Soviet soldiers armed with submachine guns bolted to attention when they saw Serov. There was a line of midsize Mercedes touring cars parked nose out against the wall. One of the soldiers ran to the largest and shiniest of them and opened the rear door.

“James, you and Ostrowski ride with Alekseevich,” Serov ordered, then walked to the open door and got in.

As Cronley and Ostrowski entered Alekseevich’s vehicle, Cronley in front and Ostrowski in back, two soldiers ran with their submachine guns to a third car, which then immediately drove to a ramp and stopped, obviously preparing to head up what was to be a convoy.