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Orlovsky didn’t reply.

“What the Germans want from you are the names of the people here who gave you those rosters Sergeant Tedworth took away from you. Once you give them the names, you’ll all be . . . disposed of.”

“That’s the scenario I reached, Captain Cronley.”

“It doesn’t seem to worry you very much.”

“Are you familiar with Roman poet Ovid, Captain?”

“I can’t say that I am. I’m just a simple cowboy. We don’t know much about Roman poets—for that matter, about any poets—in West Texas.”

Orlovsky smiled.

“Ovid wrote, ‘Happy is the man who has broken the chains which hurt the mind, and has given up worrying once and for all.’”

“Which means what? That you’re happy to be locked up in the dark, waiting to be shot?”

“Which means that my only worry is that I will be subjected to a painful interrogation—for you a useless interrogation—before I am shot. That I will be shot is a given.”

“Why useless? And why is you being shot a given?”

“So far as your first question is concerned, since I know I’m to be shot, why should I give you those names? And how could you be sure, if I gave you a name, or names, that they would be the names of the people you want? As to the second, what alternative do you have to eliminating me? You can’t free me, and you can’t keep me here for long.”

Cronley didn’t reply. He instead asked, “Where’d you learn your English?”

“In university. Leningrad State University. Why do you ask?”

“You speak it very well. I was curious.”

“And you speak German very well,” Orlovsky said, his tone making it a question.

“My mother taught me—she’s German. I’ll tell you what, Major: You think some more. Think of some way that you can give me the names I want in exchange for your life. And I’ll do the same. Maybe we can make a deal.”

“Why should I believe you have the authority to ‘make a deal’?”

“Because I’m telling you I do.”

“And what would Major Bischoff have to say about you making a deal?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. The Germans lost the war. I’m the honcho here. ‘Honcho’ is West Texas talk for ‘the man in charge.’”

“That’s a good deal of authority for a simple West Texas cowboy to have. Why should I believe you?”

“I don’t see where you have another option.”

He nodded at Orlovsky and turned to Staff Sergeant Lewis.

“I’m going, Sergeant. Bring people in here and make absolutely sure Major Orlovsky doesn’t have the means to pull the plug on himself.”

“Bischoff already thought of that, Captain.”

“Look again. And keep Bischoff out of here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good night, Major Orlovsky. We’ll talk again.”

“Good evening, Captain Cronley.”