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“And Clete told everybody. Then your mother said she hadn’t seen you since you left for Germany and asked Clete if there was any reason why she and your dad couldn’t ride down here with him to see you. He couldn’t think of any reason, and then Clete’s folks said they thought they’d ride along, too, so they could see their grandchildren. And then they could all go back to Texas together. So I got in on the act and asked him if there was any reason I couldn’t go, not only down here but to Germany as well—”

“Why the hell do you want to go back to Germany for?” Cronley interrupted.

“Because after what happened to . . . my husband . . . all of our stuff, including our car, was put in storage by the Army when they sent me back to the States. There’s a lot of stuff of Bruce’s I want Little Bruce to have when he’s grown, and a lot of stuff I never want to see again, so I’m going to Munich to sort through everything. Understood?”

“I suppose.”

“And then I wanted to apologize to you.”

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

“Listen. Pay attention. I apologize for what I said—screamed—at you in my house at the Compound. I was out of my mind—”

“You don’t owe me any kind of an apology,” Cronley put in. “You were justified.”

“—and I’m really sorry for screaming at your parents at Bruce’s funeral,” she finished. “You heard about that?”

He nodded.

“So when I came to my senses and realized they had nothing to do with what happened, I went to them—actually, to your mother—and apologized. She was, no surprise, very gracious. She asked me how I was doing. I told her that before Bruce’s casket touched the bottom of his grave, my parents had started to search for a new husband for their widowed daughter and her fatherless child and that it was driving me bonkers.

“Your mother told me very kindly—again, no surprise—that they meant well. When I started to leave, I asked her if she ever saw you again to please tell you I was sorry. Shortly after that, when Clete announced he was headed here and then on to Germany, she caught my eye and nodded. So here I am. And I have just apologized.”

“Ginger, at least once a day I think that if I hadn’t had Bone . . . Bruce . . . transferred to DCI, he’d still be alive. You really don’t owe me an apology.”

“Well, you’ve got one. Mission accomplished.”

She turned and walked out of the bedroom.

Cronley, watching the door close behind her, thought, She never got to whatever reason it was besides the apology.

If there ever was anything other than the apology . . .

* * *

—

Finished with his shave, Cronley began drying his face with a thick towel. He heard a tap on the outer door, then saw in the mirror that a tall, muscular, gray-haired man in his fifties, wearing a clerical collar, had entered Uncle Willy’s bedroom.

Has to be that Catholic priest, Cronley thought.

What’s this all about?

Cronley, watching the priest take more than an idle interest in the life-size marble statuary, said in a raised voice, “What can I do for you, Father?”

The priest moved to the bathroom door, stopped, and announced, “I’m very happy to meet you, Super Spook, for reasons I’ll explain in a bit. I thought you might be a little uncomfortable downstairs with a priest in the room you don’t know, so I came up to put your mind at rest.”

“I don’t like being called Super Spook—let’s start with that.”

“Really? When I heard that, it was applied to you in a manner suggesting admiration. Let me start this interesting, and somewhat amusing, tale from the beginning. Admiral Souers was fascinated with something you’d been working on—Himmler’s new religion—and wanted an outside opinion of heretical religions.

“His people came up with the name of a professor at the University of the South who had written several books on the subject and who was regarded by some people as an expert on the subject.

“Admiral Souers told Oscar Schultz . . .” He paused and raised his eyebrows in question.

“I’m familiar with El Jefe,” Cronley said.

“. . . to go talk to this man and see if he would come to Washington to talk to the admiral. Your friend Cletus was in town in connection with your difficulties in Vienna and was free pending decisions being made in connection with that. So, El Jefe prevailed upon the Air Force to loan the DCI a P-51, which had been fitted with a second seat, telling them the DCI had a fully qualified pilot to fly it.