"Yes?"

"Sir, with respect, I have conditions. Before I'll agree to be transferred to DCI."

Now, what the h.e.l.l?

"Conditions, Sergeant?" Cronley asked unpleasantly. "Before you 'agree to be transferred'? You don't have to agree to being transferred. I decide whether or not that will happen."

"Sir, with respect. Would you want me in DCI if I didn't want to be here?"

Turn off the automatic mouth or you really will say something stupid.

"What sort of conditions, Sergeant?" Lieutenant Colonel Ashton asked.

Cronley saw Schultz flash Ashton a withering look, and then he said, "She has a point, Jim."

"What sort of conditions, Sergeant?" Cronley asked.

"Just two things, sir. I'd like permission to wear civilian triangles. And if you're issuing what I guess could be called special IDs, I'd like one of those, too. I suppose what I'm saying-"

"That will not pose a problem," Cronley said. "We're all aware that it's easier to get things done if you're not wearing rank insignia. And that ties in with what I said before that in the DCI authority is based on your job, not your rank."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"You said 'two things,' Sergeant."

"Yes, sir. I'd like to bring three of my girls with me."

What?

Her girls?

Jesus Christ, she's a d.y.k.e!

"Excuse me, Sergeant?"

"They want to get out of the ASA house . . ."

That she was queer never entered my mind!

Until just now.

So much for that intuition bulls.h.i.t we were just talking about!

". . . and not only will they be useful here, but they'll be able to keep an eye on anything going to or from Washington," Sergeant Colbert went on, and then stopped, and then went on again, "It's not what you're thinking, sir."

So what do I say now?

Ask her what she thinks I'm thinking?

Cronley was literally struck dumb.

"Sir, I'm no more interested in other women-that way-than you are in other men."

"Sergeant, I hope I didn't say anything to suggest-"

"May I continue, sir?" she interrupted.

How could I possibly say no?

"Certainly," Cronley said.

"I'm glad this came up," she began. "To clear the air. One of the reasons I want to get out of the WAC is because I'm really tired of being suspected of being a d.y.k.e. And I've learned that every man, officer or enlisted, who looks at me thinks there is no other explanation for an attractive, unmarried woman being in the WAC except that she's a lesbian."

Cronley thought: That's true. It may not be fair, but it's true.

But he remained struck dumb.

"I'm heteros.e.xual," Sergeant Colbert said. "And so are the women I want to bring with me into DCI. Is that clear?"

Cronley found his voice.

"Perfectly clear," he said. "And I appreciate your candor, Sergeant Colbert. Hessinger, get the names of the women Sergeant Colbert wants to bring with her, and see that they're transferred."

"Yes, sir," Hessinger said.

Sergeant Colbert stood up, came to attention, and looked at Cronley.

What the h.e.l.l is that all about?

"Permission to withdraw, sir?" she asked.

Oh!

"Granted," Cronley said.

Sergeant Colbert saluted. Cronley returned it. Sergeant Colbert executed a snappy "left turn" movement and marched toward the door.

Cronley's automatic mouth switched on.

"Colbert! Just a minute, please."

She stopped, did a snappy "about face" movement, and stood at attention.

"Sir?"

"First of all, at ease," Cronley said. "You can knock off just about all the military courtesy, Colbert. For one thing, this isn't the Farben Building. For another, I'm wearing triangles, not bars. Pa.s.s that word to your girls."

"Yes, sir."

"Welcome to DCI, Claudette. Freddy will see that you have everything you need."

"Thank you."

She smiled and left the room.

Hessinger started to follow her, but stopped halfway to the door and asked, "Where do I put them?"

"To live, you mean? I hadn't thought about that," Cronley admitted.

"I think it would be a good idea if you did," Hessinger said.

"And I'm sure you have already given the subject some thought and are going to share those thoughts with me."

"I think it would be a good idea to get the three women she's bringing with her out of the ASA building, where they are now. With half a dozen other women, who are probably very curious about what's going on over here."

"So?"

"So I suggest you take the 'Guesthouse' sign off the guesthouse and put up one that says 'Female Quarters, Off Limits to Male Personnel.'"

"Do it."

"And I suggest that as soon as I can get Sergeant Colbert into blue triangles, you put her in one of our rooms in the Vier Jahreszeiten. She'll be working there."

"And what is Major Wallace going to think about that?"

"You'll have to think of something to tell him, and I think you should count on Major McClung telling him by this time tomorrow that you stole her from him."

s.h.i.t, I didn't think about that. McClung will certainly tell Wallace . . .

Or will he?

Now that I think about it, I don't think he will.

But this is probably one of those times that Mannberg talked about, when you really want to trust your gut feeling, and therefore shouldn't.

"As soon as you get Sergeant Colbert into blue triangles, put her in the Vier Jahreszeiten," Cronley said. "What she's doing there is none of Major Wallace's business."

Hessinger nodded and left the room.

"Don't let it go to your head, Jim," El Jefe said, "but you handled the sergeant well. Finally. For a while, I thought she was going to eat you alive."

"'Formidable' describes her well, doesn't it?"

"So does 'well-stacked.' Is that going to be a problem, now that she's made it so plain she's not a d.y.k.e?"

"Not for me. Ostrowski may have to watch himself."

That got the expected chuckles.

"So what do we do now?" Cronley asked.

"You get on the phone and get Polo and me seats on the next SAA flight to Buenos Aires. If they're sold out, tell them they're going to have to b.u.mp two people."

"What makes you think they'd do that?"

"Because, for the moment, at least until Juan Peron takes it away from us, South American Airways is a DCI a.s.set and you're chief, DCI-Europe."

"But do they know that?"

"I told Cletus to make sure they know."

There he goes again.

"I told Cletus . . ."

El Jefe is a lot more-and probably was for a long time-more than just Clete's communications expert.

And the admiral sent him here. And not to take care of Polo.

So how do I find out what he's really up to?

Ask him?

Why not?

The worst that could happen would be for him to pretend he doesn't know what I'm talking about.

So I'll ask him.

But not now. In private, when the moment is right.

Cronley reached for the telephone, dialed "O," and told the Pullach compound operator to get him South American Airways at the Rhine-Main Air Force Base.

Five minutes later, he put the phone in its cradle and turned to Schultz.

"You're on SAA Flight 233, departing Rhine-Main at 1700 tomorrow."

"Which means we'll have to be there at 1600," Schultz replied.

"Which means we can have a late breakfast and leave here at ten, ten-thirty. Or even eleven," Cronley said. "That'll give us plenty of time for Ostrowski and me to fly you up there."

"No," Schultz said. "What that means is that so I can make my manners to Generals Smith and Greene, and the admiral would be very disappointed if I didn't, we have to get up in the dark so that we can leave at first light. And that means, of course, that you don't get anything more to drink tonight. Nor does Ostrowski."

It makes sense that he has to see Greene, but General Walter Bedell Smith, Eisenhower's deputy? I'm supposed to believe he's only a Navy lieutenant, the same as an Army captain, and he's going in for a social chat with General Smith? Even if the admiral sent him, there's something going on n.o.body's telling me.

Like there's something n.o.body's telling me about the appointment of Captain James D. Cronley Jr. as chief, Directorate of Central Intelligence, Europe. There's something very fishy about that, too. There's at least a platoon of ex-OSS colonels and light birds, now unemployed, better qualified than I am who should be sitting here.

My gut tells me-and screw Ludwig's theory that when you really want to trust your intuition, don't-that El Jefe has the answers to all of this.