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He handed the telephone to Dooley.

“Colonel Dooley, sir,” Dooley said, then listened for no more than thirty seconds and concluded the conversation: “Yes, sir, that’s perfectly clear.”

Then he took the handset from his ear and looked at it.

“And what did General Halebury have to say, Colonel Dooley?” Mattingly asked.

“He said that until I hear differently from either you or him, I am assigned to you; that I am to do whatever I’m ordered to do and not ask questions.”

“With a few minor exceptions, that’s it. How did you come here, Colonel? How, not why?”

“I came in a staff car, if that’s what you mean, sir.”

“Which has a driver? Or did you drive it yourself?”

“I’ve got a driver. There’s a group regulation that says majors and above have to have a driver.”

“And what kind of a staff car is it, Colonel?”

“A requisitioned Mercedes—a convertible sedan.”

“And is it adequately fueled for a round-trip to a destination some forty miles from here?”

“I just filled it up, sir.”

“Sergeant, if you would be good enough to pour Colonel Dooley a drink, you may then leave us.”

“Yes, sir.”

When the sergeant was gone, Mattingly said, “Now, Colonel, you may tell us why you came here.”

Dooley looked at the drink in his hand.

“Can I ask what’s going on around here, Colonel?”

Mattingly nodded. “After you tell us why you came here.”

“I wanted to see who was flying that Argentine Connie that I kept from flying into East Germany,” Dooley said.

“That was you in the P-38?” Frade said.

“You were flying the Constellation?” Dooley replied.

“He was,” Clete said, pointing at von Wachtstein.

“‘East Germany’?” von Wachtstein parroted. “What’s that?”

“Technically, it is the Soviet zone of occupied Germany,” Mattingly said.

“And in another couple of minutes,” Dooley said, “you’d have been over it, Captain—and probably got your ass shot down.”

“By the Russians?” von Wachtstein asked.

“Why would the Russians shoot down an unarmed Argentine passenger aircraft?” Siggie Stein asked.

“Maybe they don’t like Argentines,” Frade offered.

“Unfortunately, Clete,” Mattingly said, “there is a slight but real chance—one-in-three or -four, I would judge—that you would’ve been taken under fire by Russian aircraft had not Colonel Dooley here caused you to alter course. Or have been ordered—this is my most likely scenario—to land at Leipzig and interned. You were east of Fulda when Colonel Dooley turned you.”