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“There is one detail von Wachtstein didn’t tell you, Colonel Dooley,” Mattingly said. “Some time later, Peter’s father was executed, in a very cruel manner, for his role in the bomb plot.”

Mattingly poured a half-inch of scotch in his glass and tossed it down.

“Well, I hope that everybody is now very sorry for all the cruel things you’ve been saying to one another, and that we can now play nice and maybe even get on with the business at hand.”

The comment—and the tone of his voice—made everyone smile or chuckle.

“Which is?” Frade asked.

“First, I tell Colonel Dooley that everything he sees or hears from now on is top secret, and that if he ever—now or ever—breathes a word of it to anyone, he will be soundly spanked, or castrated with a chain saw, or both.”

That earned him more smiles and chuckles.

“And to answer Colonel Frade’s question about what happens now, what happens now is that we drive out into the countryside, to Kronberg im Taunus, where after we get something to eat I will tell you what happens now. You know Kronberg im Taunus, von Wachtstein?”

“The Schlosshotel, Colonel?”

Mattingly nodded.

“It used to be a club for senior officers,” von Wachtstein said.

“It has been requisitioned as the headquarters of the Forward Element of OSS SHAEF,” Mattingly said.

“Is that what you guys are?” Dooley asked. “OSS? I knew it had to be something like that.”

“Colonel, I told you before that patience is a virtue right up there with chastity. This time, write it down. Von Wachtstein, can you find the Schlosshotel?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then why don’t you lead the way in Dooley’s car? We will follow you in the Horch, presuming Frade can show me how to get it out of low gear.”

“I know the Schlosshotel,” Enrico Rodríguez said. “And how to get there.”

“And he also knows how to get a Horch out of low range,” Frade said. “I suggest you let him drive.”

“Splendid idea,” Mattingly said. “That will permit you and me to ride in the backseat and acknowledge the roar of the party faithful.”

Mattingly then mimed waving regally at an imaginary crowd.

[FOUR]

Frankfurt am Main, Germany 1815 19 May 1945

“Not very pretty, is it, Clete?” Mattingly asked as Enrico drove them down what was a narrow alley through the rubble of what had been a suburban area of Frankfurt am Main.

Only some walls of a few buildings were left standing. Here and there, gray-faced men and women searched the rubble for whatever they could salvage.

“It’s unbelievable,” Frade said.

“And you ain’t seen nuttin’ yet. Berlin is worse.”

“You’ve been to Berlin?”

“I flew over it in a puddle jumper,” Mattingly said, “as the Russians were taking it.”

He saw the look on Frade’s face and went on: “In North Africa, before I was called to the priesthood of the OSS, I was a tank battalion commander in Combat Command A of Second Armored Division—”

“I saw the armored division patch,” Clete said.