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When he had finished reading it, he returned to shaving.

“‘Now solved banking problems’?” Dunwiddie asked.

“I guess Clete had a little trouble getting the money out of the bank.”

“What money out of what bank?”

“I just remembered that the opportunity never presented itself for me to share this with you,” Cronley said, as he examined his chin in the mirror, then took another swipe at it with his razor.

“That would seem to be the case. What’s it all about?”

Cronley picked up a towel and wiped what was left of the shaving cream from his face.

“Gehlen told Clete and me he needs fifty thousand dollars, and now, to send to Russia to grease palms to get Orlovsky’s family out. And Clete needs money to hide Orlovsky in Argentina. The OSS account is empty. Clete can’t use any of his money without the wrong people asking questions. So I’m loaning it to him. To us. To Operation Ost. I’m supposed to get it back when this new Central Intelligence Directorate, or whatever the hell they’re going to call it, is up and running.”

“I was about to say . . . I will say: I suppose that’s a good example of putting your money where your mouth is. Next question: Where the hell did you get fifty grand? Are you that rich?”

“Actually, I’m loaning Operation Ost two hundred thousand.”

“Jesus Christ! You had that much money in the bank?”

“The former Marjorie Ann Howell, who had been Mrs. James D. Cronley Junior for just over a day at the time of her untimely demise, had that much—and more—in her account. And under the laws of the Sovereign State of Texas, upon her demise all of her property passed to her lawful husband.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Gehlen doesn’t know where the money is coming from, and I don’t want him to know.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I just don’t, okay?”

Dunwiddie held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“What I’ve been trying to talk myself into,” Cronley said, “is that the Squirt wouldn’t mind—might even sort of like—that her money is being used to get somebody’s wife and kids out of Russia and started on a new life in Argentina. Especially if she knew what the alternative scenario is.”

“Jesus Christ, Jim!”

“I’ve also been thinking I’m glad the Squirt didn’t see me in my despicable prick role. That I don’t think she would understand.”

“From what you’ve told me about her, I don’t know if she would or not,” Tiny said, paused, and then went on: “Yeah, I do. She would know you were doing that because it had to be done.”

“‘Then conquer we must,’ right?”

“That stuck in your mind, did it?”

“Do you think it’s time to show Fat Fre— Sergeant Hessinger’s OPPLAN to Gehlen?”

“Are you going to show him that message?”

“Don’t we have to show both messages, the first one, too?”

“If you decide you do, then you might as well show him Hessinger’s plan. You’re going to have to eventually.”