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“Sometimes, Mortimer, that’s not true.”

Cronley thought, Odd. The cardinal really is starting to enjoy this exchange.

Cohen said, “My mother lied to me. She said that unless I brushed my teeth twice a day, my teeth would fall out. So for years I brushed them twice a day, sometimes three times. But then, about the time I turned forty, my teeth started to fall out anyway.”

The cardinal laughed out loud.

Cohen was quiet, then went on, his tone serious. “I’ve kept you—your minions—out of Wewelsburg for several reasons. There was no question in my mind that you had heard of Heinrich’s new religion, but I didn’t know (a) how extensive your knowledge was or (b) what you thought of what you had. In other words, how seriously you were taking it.

“If, in fact, you were taking it very seriously, then the last thing I wanted was for you to search the castle thoroughly before I had a chance to. If, on the other hand, you had already decided—or, after a quick inspection of Wewelsburg, decided—that the Church of Saint Heinrich was just one more nutty—and, thus, nonthreatening—Nazi idea, I thought it entirely likely that, to put the problem behind you once and for all, you would blow up the castle. Reduce it to rubble. I didn’t want that to happen, either, and not only because I think there’s a half ton of gold hidden there.”

The cardinal, clearly in deep thought, looked at Cohen.

“Now, that’s interesting,” von Hassburger said. “It would lend credence to your and—frankly, if you must know—my theory that something serious was going on in that castle. Mortimer, I really would like my people to examine the castle.”

“Ready to deal, Helmut?”

The cardinal made a Let’s hear it gesture.

“Presuming they will share with us what they develop, including what they think, I’ll let your people in the castle. And tell them everything we’ve learned.”

“And then, Mortimer?”

“One step at a time, Helmut.”

Von Hassburger shrugged. “My thoughts exactly. What sort of a time frame are we talking about?”

“The sooner, the better.”

“With that in mind, did you happen to notice the very large, very young priest who showed you in here? That’s Father Francis McKenna. He’s a Jesuit, very bright, and I’ve asked him to familiarize himself with Wewelsburg and all that it represents. How would you feel about him going with you as sort of liaison?”

“Fine.”

The cardinal stood up and offered his right hand.

“Unless you have something else, Mortimer?”

Cohen shook his head, and then they shook hands.

After the cardinal left the room, Father Francis X. McKenna, S.J., came in a moment later.

“Colonel,” he said, with his Bostonian inflection, “I just spoke with Cardinal von Hassburger. I’ll need three minutes to get my bag and then I’m yours.”

XI

[ONE]

Aboard The Blue Danube

East–West Germany Border

2055 22 April 1946

Colonel Mortimer Cohen, tunic unbuttoned and puffing on a long, dark cigar, was sitting on one of the two small couches in what was somewhat grandly called the Drawing Room of the Senior Officer’s Compartment when Father McKenna entered.

Captain James D. Cronley Jr., who was sitting on the opposite couch, greeted him: “Father Francis, time and The Blue Danube wait for no man. I thought I told you that.”

“I had to wind up several things for the cardinal,” McKenna replied.