When Schultz and Ashton finally got off the ground, he knew there was no chance of his making it to the monastery strip before dark, so he went to the snack bar in the terminal and had a greasy hamburger, fries, and a c.o.ke before leaving Rhine-Main.

He had another-much better-hamburger at Schleissheim, the Munich military post airfield, when he landed, and then got a ride to the hotel.

As he walked down the corridor to his room, he saw light under the door to 507, which was where Fat Freddy held court, and he pushed the huge door handle down and walked in.

I will tell Freddy everything Schultz said in the generals' mess and see what he has to say.

Hessinger was not behind the desk. Technical Sergeant Claudette Colbert was.

She rose from behind the desk at which she was typing when she saw him.

She was wearing a "pink" as in pinks-and-greens officer's skirt and a khaki shirt, and he saw an officer's green tunic on the coatrack.

Well, it didn't take much time for her to get in triangles, did it?

"Good evening, sir."

"Now that you're a civilian, you can drop the 'sir,' Claudette."

"Sorry, I forgot."

"Where's Freddy?"

"He said he was going to visit a friend."

"Yeah."

"He left a number, shall I call him for you?"

"I try not to call Freddy when he's visiting friends. He sulks."

She smiled.

"Is Mr. Ostrowski with you?"

"He's at Kloster Grnau. I had to wait until Schultz and Ashton took off, which meant it was too dark for me to land there. So I came here."

"Major Derwin called. He said he'd like to see you at ten hundred tomorrow."

What does that sonofab.i.t.c.h want?

"Wonderful!"

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you. I'm going to go to my room, have a stiff drink, and go to bed."

"How did things go with General Greene?"

"It was interesting, Claudette, but not worthy of an after-action report."

Subject: Screw Up and Get Thrown to the Wolves.

"That's what I've been doing," she said, nodding at the typewriter. "After-action reports."

"Claudette-"

"My friends call me 'Dette,'" she said.

"Because if they shortened it the other way, it would be 'Claude'?"

"And I don't want to be called 'Claude.'"

"Well, Dette, as I was about to say, Freddy will push you around if you let him. Don't let him. It's quarter after eight. Knock off. The after actions aren't that important."

"Okay, I'll finish this one and knock off," she said. "Thank you."

"Good night, Dette."

"Good night . . . What should I call you?"

"Good question. When no one's around, call me Jim. Otherwise, Mr. Cronley."

"Got it. Good night, Jim."

"Good night," Cronley said, and walked out.

Cronley went to his room, which was actually a suite, found a bottle of scotch, poured himself a stiff drink, and then decided he would first have a shower and then have the drink, catch the 2100 news broadcast on the American Forces Network Munich radio station, and then go to bed.

Ten minutes later, as he pulled on the terrycloth bathrobe that came with the suite, he heard over AFN Munich that he was just in time for the news. It was always preceded by a solemn voice proclaiming, "Remember, soldier! VD walks the streets tonight! And penicillin fails once in seven times!"

And he wondered again, as he often did, how Daddy or Mommy explained the commercial to nine-year-old Jane or Bobby when they asked, "Daddy, what's that man talking about?"

When he came out of the bathroom, Technical Sergeant Colbert was sitting in an armchair.

"You almost got a look at something you don't want to see," he snapped. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing in here?"

"Well, I finished the first after-action report, and thought you might want to see it. Wrong guess?"

"I don't think being in my room is smart," he said.

"Since Freddy gave me the master key, I thought coming in made more sense than waiting in the hall for you to finish your shower," she said. "Shall I leave?"

"Let me see the after action," he said.

She got out of the chair, walked to him, and handed him some typewritten sheets of paper. He glanced at the t.i.tle: "Likharev, Sergei, Colonel NKGB, Capture Of."

He became aware that she was still standing close to him.

He looked at her.

"We cleared up one misunderstanding between us yesterday," she said. "Why don't we clear up this one?"

"Which one is that?"

"Officers, and you're a good one, don't fool around with enlisted women, right?"

"I'm glad you understand that."

"And everyone knows that a recently widowed officer would have absolutely no interest in becoming romantically involved with another woman, especially a subordinate enlisted woman seven years older than he is, right?"

She must have really gone through my personal files.

"Right again. Is there going to be a written test on this?"

"But you would agree that there is a great difference between a continuing romantic involvement and an every-once-in-a-while-as-needed purely physical relationship, if both parties are (a) aware of the difference, and (b) have been forced into the strangest perversion of them all?"

"What the h.e.l.l would that be?"

"Oscar Wilde said it was celibacy," she said.

"I don't think I like this conversation, Sergeant Colbert."

She laughed deep in her throat, and then pointed at his midsection.

His erect p.e.n.i.s had escaped his bathrobe.

Her right hand reached for it, and with her left she pulled his face down to hers.

She encountered little, virtually no, resistance.

VIII.

[ONE].

Suite 507 Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten Maximilianstra.s.se 178 Munich, American Zone of Occupation, Germany 0955 16 January 1946 Knowing that Major Thomas G. "d.i.c.k Tracy" Derwin was either already behind the door or would be there shortly triggered many thoughts in Cronley's mind as he put his hand on the enormous door lever and pushed down.

He remembered being with Derwin at the officers' club bar in Camp Holabird when the Squirt came in.

He remembered why his fellow spooks in training had called Derwin "d.i.c.k Tracy," and that it had not been rooted in admiration.

What the h.e.l.l does he want from me?

He had dressed to meet him. That is, in triangled pinks and greens, not in his captain's tunic, as that would have established the captain/major relationship between them.

While he was putting on the triangled pinks and greens, he had thought about Ludwig Mannberg's elegant wardrobe, now shared with Max Ostrowski. He thought it would be a good idea to get some civvies for himself. There were a lot of bona fide U.S. civilians around wearing civvies, so why not?

The problem there was, where could he get some? He had two Brooks Brothers suits in Midland-two because his mother said he could be counted upon to spill soup on the first one he put on-and he didn't think they would fit anyway.

And, of course, he was concerned, deeply concerned, about what was going to happen when he faced Sergeant Claudette Colbert after their most-of-the-night romp in the sheets, which was probably the dumbest thing he'd done since he started s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g Rachel Schumann. Or more accurately, had allowed Rachel Schumann to play him for the three-star nave fool he could not deny being.

There were only two good things he could think of concerning his new relationship with Sergeant Colbert. He was willing to bet she wasn't an NKGB agent, and she sure knew how to romp.

And he wondered about not if, but how soon Fat Freddy would pick up on what was going on between him and good ol' Sergeant Colbert.

He pushed open the door and entered the room.

Fat Freddy was behind his desk and Dette behind hers, hammering furiously at her typewriter. The door to Major Harold Wallace's office was open. He was chatting with Major Thomas G. Derwin, who sat in front of his desk with a briefcase on his lap. Both looked out at him.

"Good morning, sir," Freddy said. "Major Derwin is here to see you. He's in with Major Wallace."

"Sir," Dette said, "General Gehlen said that he'd like to see you as soon as it's convenient."

When Cronley looked at Colbert, she met his eyes. She smiled warmly, but it was just that, nothing more or less.

"Did he say where he was?"

"At the compound, sir."

"Please call him back and tell him I'll come out there as soon as Major Derwin and I have finished talking about whatever he wants to talk about."

"Yes, sir. I'll make sure a car is available."

Cronley walked to Wallace's office door.

"Good morning, gentlemen."

"Major Derwin has been waiting to see you, Jim," Wallace said.

"Captain Cronley," Derwin said.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Major," Cronley said. "What's on your mind?"

"It would be better, I think, if we discussed that privately."

What the h.e.l.l does he want?