The boar fell over dead.

There was a rush of sound and fleeting glimpses of other boars and sows rushing past him through he trees, and then the sound of the Graf's pistol firing, once, twice, and then a third time.

And then all was silent except for the diminishing sound of the herd moving away from them in the forest.

"You all right?" the Graf called.

"You?"

"I got a double," the Graf called back, pleased.

Felter walked to his. boar and could see from thee condition of the, skull That it had, to be dead, And then he saw the chest. He hadn't missed. There was a nearly halfinch hole on the boar's chest. What it was, was that the most powerful handgun cartridge ever developed could not penetrate the layer of gristle over the chest cavity of a 325-pound wild boar.

The Graf walked over.

"Mine aren't neatly that big," he said. "That'll go a hundred and sixty kilos." Felter was aware that his heart was beating fast, that he was excited, even exulted.

"Well" now that we've done this," he said, "can we go find something to eat-and drink?"

The "Graf von Greiffenberg laughed aloud and then put his arms around Felter's shoulders and hugged him.

Then came the sound of electronic beeping. The Graf took a small radio from his pocket.

"Ja?" he asked, and then told Major von Methes-Zach that, everything was fine; that they'd had some luck; and-to bring the jeep. He put the radio back in his , pocket and took out a monogrammed silver flask.

Generalleutnant Graf von Greiffenlberg and Colonel Sanford T. Felter sat on the ground and emptied the flask of Marnier Lapastolle cognac between them before the jeep found them.

(Three) Headquarters United States Strike Command McDill Air Force Base, Florida' 5 January 1964 General Matthew J. Evans! a tall, well-built, silver-haired man in his middle fifties, walked into the Secure Reading Room of the Classified Documents Section, trailed by his junior aide-camp. Both were wearing khaki trousers and open-collared short sleeve khaki shirts.

Evans was Commander-in-Chief, (CINC), 'pronounced "sink," u.s. Strike Command (STRICOM) charged with the exercise of United States Military Force-Army, Navy,' and Air Forces in the Middle East, South Asia, and Africa, one-third of the world. STRICOM was a multiservice headquarters, but it was only a staff. When the Joint Chiefs of Staff issued marching orders, Army, Navy, and Air Force units normally assigned elsewhere were put under CINC-STRICOM's command, otherwise STRICOM was the headquarters of a phantom force.

General Evans had been heard to quip, "Never have so many stars [four stars were on each of his collar pins] commanded so few." There were four people at tables in the Secure Reading Room, a lieutenant colonel and two master sergeants in khaki, and a full colonel in greens. The Colonel had removed his blouse, revealing that he held up his trousers with red suspenders. The Lieutenant Colonel and the two Master Sergeants started to get to their feet when the Commanding General, Strike Command, entered the room. General Evans smiled and waved them back into their chairs. The Colonel seemed oblivious to General Evans' presence. Evans walked to his table. The Colonel, slumped back in a chair with a thick folder propped on his stomach, did not raise his eyes from it.

General Evans smiled and chuckled.

"I like your suspenders, Felter," he said. "What did you do, steal them from a fireman?"

Colonel Sanford T. Felter got quickly to his feet.

"I'm sorry, Sir," he said. "I didn't know you were there."

"What are you reading?" Evans asked.

"OPLAN 515, Sir," Felter said. "Ready Move."

"There's a sequel," General Evans said. "Five Fifteen Slash One, Ready Move Two."

"Yes, Sir," Felter said. "I have that too."

"Why don't you bring them over to my office, Felter?" General Evans said. "It's more comfortable and I'll throw in a cup of coffee. "

"I don't want to interfere with your schedule, General."

"Question of priorities," Evans said. "Right now a 'Counselor to the President is the closest thing I have to a VIP around here."

"Yes, Sir," Felter said. "Thank you, Sir."

General Evans looked at his aide.

"Sign those documents out, Eddie," he ordered. "I think I'll want to have a look at them when Colonel Felter is finished."

"Yes, Sir," the aide-de-camp said.

"You'll have to put your blouse on, Felter, I'm afraid," General Evans said with a smile. "Those suspenders would raise eyebrows around here." Years before, when he had first met Felter, General Evans had decided that he liked him. He thought of him privately as a mean little sonofabitch, but that was more In approval of him as a smart and an officer than a reaction to Felter's reputation as an officer who could not be safely crossed. Felter didn't look much like a warrior, but it was the General's experience that few warriors looked the part. And from what he knew of Felter (which included what he had heard and what he had taken the trouble to find out for himself), Felter was a warrior, with the Purple Hearts and the medals for valor, including the Distinguished Service Cross, to prove it.

"General Dyess, my J-3, was a little disappointed you didn't have, the time to say hello," General Evans said.

Dyess was plans and training staff officer. The numerical designation was proceeded by an S at battalion and regimental level; by a G-j for General) at Division, Corps and Army level; and by a J. (for Joint on a multiservice staff, such as Strike Command, which included Navy and Air Force components.

(What General Dyess had in fact said was, "General, I just found out that that goddamned little Jew, Felter, is snooping around in the WarPlans. And I thought you'd want to know."

"It was my intention, Sir," Felter said, as he buttoned-his blouse, "to pay my respects to, General Dyess and you if you had time to see me, before I left."

"That's what I told him, Felter," General Evans said. "I told him I Was sure you would make every effort to fit us into your busy schedule."

"General, if I've, offended you, I'm sorry," Felter said. "I wanted to look at those plans before I saw you. I certainly intended no disrespect."

"Hell, Felter, I'm just pulling your leg," Evans said. "I know if you wanted to sneak in here, you wouldn't have flown in, in a White House Special Missions jet. . . and wearing fireman's suspenders."

They were nearly at the head of the stairs from the basement by then, and General Evans's aide-de-camp, carrying the OPLANs, rushed past them to open the door.

And then he walked quickly down the corridor and opened the private door to General Evans's office.

General Evans gestured for Felter to sit down on a couch facing a coffee table, and then walked behind-the desk and sat down.

A woman master sergeant appeared at a door.

"Get us some coffee, will you please, and then call General Dyess and ask him to keep himself available?" General Evans ordered courteously. He turned to his aide. "Find something to do, Eddie. Colonel Felter and I are about to start singing bawdy songs and I wouldn't want you to be embarrassed." General Evans waited until the coffee was delivered, and until the aide had closed the door after him. Then he said, "OK, Colonel, what the hell is going on?"

"The President's asked me to keep an eye on the Congo," Felter said, "and authorized me to take certain precautionary, contingency, actions."

"Any special reason? Or is something going on over there I'm not important enough to be told about?"

"I would like to think this is in response to a report I gave him on what I think is liable to happen over there." Felter said, "but more likely, he's reacting to Senator Goldwater."

General Evans grunted.

"You mean that 'change sides' speech?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Are you telling me that nothing is going on over there?"

"Nothing, Sir, that your man in the Congo hasn't already told you."

"I gather you've met Colonel Wills?"

"I just came from the Congo, Sir. I spent a day with him when I was there, Sir. Good man."

"Yes, he is. He's retiring, I guess you know, in August?"

"Yes, Sir, he told me."

"And I don't have any funds to replace him," General Evans said. "Did you know that?"

"No, Sir," Felter said, "I didn't." He, paused, just perceptibly.

"I think funding can be found, Sir."

"Can I count on that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then there is something going on over there. Or you think there will be."

"I have a gut feeling, nothing more. The communists tend to try to fill a vacuum."

"But enough of a feeling to come down here and look at the OPLANs?"

"Yes, Sir," Felter said. "Sir, before we go any further. If you have no objections, I'd like to get Lieutenant Colonel Lowell in here."

"Why?" General Evans asked simply.

"Do you know Lowell, Sir?"

"I met him when he reported in," Evans said. "And I know that the opinion of the Army is about equally divided about him. There are those who believe that he's a no-good sonofabitch who should have been thrown out of the Army years ago. And there are others for whom he is sort of a reincarnation of Georgie Patton with traces of Ernie Harmon and I. D. White thrown in for good measure. I haven't had a chance to make up my mind about him."

"Sir," Felter said, "how do you feel about the old saw that says the truth is usually equidistant from the extremes?" General Evans did not respond to that.

"I've also heard that you two are great buddies, Felter," he said. He waited a moment and then went on. "But I do know enough about you to know you would not let that color your judgment." He picked up a telephone.

"Sergeant, go find Lieutenant Colonel Lowell. Get him over here right now."

"Thank you, Sir," Felter said.

"Or does he already work for you, Colonel? Is that why he was sent here?"

His tone of voice was cold, as if he had just thought of the possibility, considered it likely, and didn't like it at all.

"No, Sir. I understand his assignment here may have been influenced by General E. Z. Black-who is an admirer-but I had nothing to do with it. He knows nothing about why I'm here."

"OK," General Evans said.

"Sir, I'm going to need a contact here. And Lowell possesses unique qualifications. He's an aviator, with contacts with them. He has close contacts within the Green Berets. And he's a fine staff officer."

"I have a dozen other officers meeting those qualifications," Evans said. "You left out he's a pal of yours."

"I also omitted mentioning his father-in-law is Generalleutnant Graf von Greiffenberg."

"I thought he was a bachelor."

"Mrs. Lowell was killed some years ago, Sir," Felter said.

"But he and his father-in-law have remained close."

"The Germans are involved in this?"

"Yes, Sir, but I'm not in a position to discuss that further at this time." Evans looked at him a moment and then nodded his head as if he'd just made up his mind.

"OK." One of his telephones rang. He picked it up and said his last name, grunted, and hung up.

"Lowell's on his way. Take him a couple of minutes. While we're waiting, why don't you tell me what you think of the OPLAN 515/1, Evacuation of American Natitonals from Leopoldville, Democratic Republic of the Congo?"

"I wasn't quite through it, Sir, when you came down," Felter said. "I was curious that it calls for a platoon of airborne infantry."

"It originally called for two companies," General Evans said.

"Plus a third in reserve. A light battalion, in other words. That got shot down in Washington. The State Department apparently feels that many men would be provocative. JCS as usual, caved in to their superior wisdom."

"Two PFCs in uniform would be provocative," Felter said.

"And just about as effective as a platoon."

"You're preaching to the already converted, Felter," General Evans said. "But that was the decision. Unless you can get some minds changed. . . ."

"I don't think that's possible, Sir."

"I'm disappointed in you, Felter. Rumor has it that you have the Commander in-Chief's ear."

"Purely for planning purposes, General Not to go as far as submitting it anywhere else for comment, it might be interesting to get into the logistics of beefing up Five Fifteen Slash One to a battalion-sized force."

"Huh!" General Evans snorted.

"All the Americans in the Congo are not in Leopoldville, Sir. There's some all over the Kivu Province. We have a consulate in Stanleyville, too. I think we have to be concerned about their welfare, too."

"I take your point, Colonel."

"May I suggest that Colonel Lowell might be helpful in drawing up the plan?"