aeronautical genius, has gone off to sell his talents to a country whose

whole interest in science is geared to its aggressive potential in other

words, Hitler's Third Reich.'

'So?' Taylor said.

'So, since the Third Reich is devoted to war, we should be keeping

tabs on Wilson but we can't do it because we don't have the

necessary intelligence-gathering organization.'

'But we do have that.'

'No,' Bradley insisted, 'we don't. What we have is an

uncoordinated collection of different intelligence agencies. Army

Intelligence, or G2; the Office of Naval Intelligence; the FBI; the

Secret Service; the State Department; the Customs and Immigration services; the Federal Communications System Service; and the Treasury's Foreign Funds Control Unit not one of which deals with

the others, let alone recognizing them.'

'So?'

'So what we need is a centralized, coordinated intelligence, like the

British Secret Intelligence Service.'

'A sort of Central Intelligence Agency,' Taylor said.

'Right, General. You got it'

'Ah!' the general exclaimed softly. 'So that's why you came all the

way from New York to see me, instead of using the phone. You want

to ride your favourite hobbyhorse again and persuade me to include

you in the formation of a proper, coordinated intelligence-gathering

agency. Have I got it right, Mike?'

'Yes, General, you have. I'm a highly successful, thirty-eight-yearold lawyer with a plush office in Manhattan, but the best time I ever

had in my life was during the war.'

'So I gathered,' the general said. 'The Distinguished Service Cross,

the Distinguished Service Medal, and the Medal of Honor...' 'Right,' Bradley interjected. 'Which proves I'm a survivor and

that I'm willing to hang in when the chips are down.'

'No argument there,' the general murmured. 'Come on, let' s head

back.'

They turned away from the river, heading back to where the men

with the saws and hammers and nails were swarming like flies over the

frames of buildings that would soon house a branch of army air force