Page 142

“General Sheridan was quoted as saying that the only good Indian was a dead one,” Frade said.

“That’s a bit brutal,” Gehlen said. “But Communism poses the greatest threat to Roman Catholicism there has ever been, and I’m sure the Vatican is fully aware of that.”

“My grandfather,” Frade said, “who is the exact opposite of an admirer of the Catholic Church, says that to understand the Catholic Church you have to understand that its primary mission is its preservation.”

Gehlen didn’t reply to that. He said, instead, “Dunwiddie has recognized another problem: Unless we can get Orlovsky out of here and to Argentina without the wrong people learning about it . . .”

He left the sentence unfinished, but Frade took his meaning.

“Y

eah,” Frade agreed. His face showed that he had both not considered that problem and was, without much success, trying to find a solution.

“Shoot him,” Cronley said. “And then bury him in the dark of night and in great secrecy, in an unmarked grave in the Kloster cemetery.”

Frade understood that immediately, too.

“That’d work. I presume, General, that despite Captain Cronley’s determination to conduct Orlovsky’s burial in the greatest secrecy it would not go unnoticed?”

“I think we could count on that, Colonel,” Gehlen said.

“And then,” Frade said, “you’re going to have to figure a way to get the corpse from its unmarked grave and get it onto a Connie in Frankfurt without anybody—”

“Without anybody,” Gehlen said, laughing, “dropping to their knees in awe at a second resurrection.”

“I’ll leave the solution to that problem in your capable hands,” Frade said. “Not that I think, with Sergeant Dunwiddie’s exception, that you’re all that capable, but because I really have to get to Rhine-Main now.”

“Thank you very much,” Gehlen said. “Your confidence in us inspires me.”

Frade chuckled, then said, “When I spoke with Admiral Souers last night, I told him we’d go wheels-up at noon. The admiral does not like to be kept waiting.”

“Do you want to see Major Orlovsky before you go?” Gehlen asked.

“Your call, General.”

“Chauncey?” Gehlen said.

“Sir, I think a brief visit. Shake his hand, tell him you’re off to Argentina and look forward to seeing him there. That’s it.”

“I agree,” Gehlen said.

“Then that’s what I’ll do. Jimmy, after you drop me at Rhine-Main, I want you to go back to Munich. You are authorized to tell Sergeant Hessinger that we’re going to take Orlovsky to Argentina. Only, repeat only, Sergeant Hessinger. Not Major Wallace. Make sure Hessinger knows he’s not to tell Wallace or Mattingly anything about this. I’m telling you this, giving you this order, before witnesses. My stated reason for this is that if this thing blows up in our faces, Mattingly and Wallace will be off the hook. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And if they don’t know about it, they can’t get in the way,” Frade added.

“You consider that a problem?” Gehlen asked.

“Colonel Mattingly,” Frade said, “is very skilled in the fine art of covering his ass. I’m just helping him do that.”

Gehlen shook his head and smiled.

“Let’s go see Major Orlovsky,” Frade said. “And while I’m doing that, Jimmy, you can top off the tanks in the Storch.”

“How about some breakfast first, and then top off the tanks?”

“Have the mess make us some bacon-and-egg sandwiches,” Frade ordered. “We can eat them on the way to Rhine-Main. We can’t make Admiral Souers wait for us.”