"What's Parsons going to do now?"

"Spend an uncomfortable thirty minutes or so with Ashley, wondering what incriminating things they said in the messages you turned over to Hessinger and me."

"Jimmy, I told you to stop that."

"Yeah, but you didn't sound as if you really meant it."

"And then what's he going to do?"

"See about getting another communications route to the Pentagon. Which will probably be hard, as he would first have to explain what's wrong with the one he has, and then if he did that, said he had good reason to believe I was reading his correspondence, he would then have to explain to Greene, or ol' Iron Lung, what it was he wanted to tell the Pentagon he didn't want me to know.

"Oh, there they are! I knew they had to be in there somewhere!"

"Are you listening to me? What if Freddy comes back and comes in here? . . . Oh, G.o.d, Jimmy! . . . Jimmy, let me do that, before you tear something!"

[FIVE].

Schleissheim Army Airfield Munich, American Zone of Occupation, Germany 0545 17 January 1946 Captain Chauncey L. Dunwiddie squeezed himself out of the Storch, and a moment later, Max Ostrowski followed him. Kurt Schrder started to follow Ostrowski.

"Stay in there, Kurt," Cronley called to him, "we're leaving right away." And then asked, "Have you enough fuel to make Eschborn?"

Schrder gave him a thumbs-up.

"Why are we going to Frankfurt?" Dunwiddie asked.

"Actually, we're going to Rhine-Main," Cronley said, directing his answer to Ostrowski.

"Rhine-Main or Eschborn?"

"Rhine-Main, and we have to be there by nine-thirty."

"Got it," Ostrowski said, and headed back for the Storch.

"Why are we going to Frankfurt?" Tiny asked.

"Get in the airplane, I'll tell you on the way."

"I've got things to do in Pullach."

"Not as important as this. Get in the G.o.dd.a.m.n airplane."

"Yes, sir," Tiny replied sarcastically.

- "Schleissheim departure control, Army Seven-Oh-Seven, a flight of two aircraft, request taxi and takeoff."

"Army Seven-Oh-Seven, take Taxiway Three to threshold of Two Seven."

- "Schleissheim departure control, Army Seven-Oh-Seven, on the threshold of Two Seven. Direct, VFR to Rhine-Main. Request takeoff."

"Army Seven-Oh-Seven, you are number one on Two Seven."

"Schleissheim, Oh-Seven rolling."

"Why are we going to Frankfurt?"

"For Christ's sake, Tiny, put a f.u.c.king cork in it."

"Army Seven-Oh-Seven. Schleissheim. Say again?"

- "You had something you wished to ask me, Captain Dunwiddie?"

"Why are we going to Frankfurt?"

"We are going to see your beloved Uncle Isaac."

"You're referring to General White?"

"Unless you have another G.o.dfather you call Uncle Isaac."

"You're saying General White is in Frankfurt?"

"ETA Rhine-Main ten hundred."

"How do you know that?"

"Hotshot Billy Wilson told me."

"You're referring to Lieutenant Colonel Wilson?"

"Who else, for Christ's sake, is known as 'Hotshot Billy'?"

"And why are you taking me to Frankfurt?"

"Because I need ten minutes, maybe a little more, of White's time, just as soon as I can get it, and you're going to arrange it."

"I'll do no such thing."

"What?"

"My personal relationship with General White is exactly that, personal. And if you don't mind, please refer to him as 'General White.'"

"Are you constipated, or what?"

Dunwiddie did not reply.

"Just for the record, Captain Dunwiddie, I do not wish to intrude on your personal relationship with General White. I'm not going to ask him, for example, if he has any pictures of you as a bare-a.s.s infant on a bearskin rug he'd be willing to share with me. This is business."

"Official?"

"Yes, official."

"Then I suggest that if you need to see General White that you contact his aide-de-camp and ask for an appointment."

"If I had the time, maybe I would. But I don't have the time."

"Would you care to explain that?"

"Hotshot Billy told me he can't do anything more for me to get Mrs. Likharev and the kids across the border than he already has, unless he gets permission from White."

"Can you tell me what Colonel Wilson has done for you so far?"

"He told me that when, a couple of days ago, he flew the East/West German border around Fritzlar, he thinks he saw places, fields, roads, right across the border in Thuringia where we could get the Storchs in and out.

"And as we speak, at least one and maybe more than one Piper Cub of the Fourteenth Constab-"

"The nomenclature is L-4," Dunwiddie interrupted.

"-which is stationed in Fritzlar, is flying the border taking aerial photographs of these possible landing sites. He has promised to give me what they bring back. But when I asked him to teach me and Ostrowski and Schrder what he knows about s.n.a.t.c.h operations-and Hotshot Billy knows a lot-he said he couldn't do anything more, now that White has returned to Germany, without White's permission."

"That's the way things are done in the Army."

"f.u.c.k you, Tiny."

"You might as well turn the airplane around, Jim. Because I flatly refuse to be in any way involved with getting General White involved in one of your loose-cannon schemes."

"Before I respond to that, I think I should tell you the reason I know White will be in Frankfurt is because Wilson told me. And it was Wilson who suggested that the quickest way for me to get permission from White for him to help me was to get you to Frankfurt to meet your Uncle Isaac when he gets off the plane. Wilson says he's sure White will invite you to ride on his private train, and if you get on it, so will I. How could they do less for the man who flew Chauncey to meet his Uncle Isaac?"

"You're not listening, Jim. I refuse to become involved."

"You're not listening, I told you this was important. And a word to the wise: I've had about all of your West Point bulls.h.i.t I can handle, Tiny."

"I went to Norwich, not West Point. So did General White."

"Well, pardon me all to h.e.l.l. I forgot that Wilson's the West Pointer, not you and your Uncle Isaac. Same comment, I've had enough of this bulls.h.i.t. Grow the f.u.c.k up, you're in the intelligence business, not on the parade ground of some college. That I will not lie, cheat, or steal, or tolerate those who do philosophy doesn't work here."

"I beg to disagree."

"You will get me on that f.u.c.king train, Tiny, because this isn't a suggestion, or a request, it's what you proper soldiers call a direct order. Once I'm in with the general, you can tell him you're there against your will, or even-s.h.i.t, why not?-that I threatened to shoot you if you wouldn't go along."

"Now you're being soph.o.m.oric."

"Am I? You saw how little the a.s.sa.s.sination option upset me when it was necessary. I will do whatever is necessary to get Mrs. Likharev and her two kids out of the East. If I thought I had to shoot you because you were getting in the way of my getting them out, I would."

"You're crazy."

"Or dedicated. Now take off your headset. I have no further interest in hearing anything you might wish to say."

[SIX].

Rhine-Main USAF Air Base Frankfurt am Main American Zone of Occupation, Germany 0955 17 January 1946 As Cronley trailed a Follow me jeep down a taxiway to a remote area of the Rhine-Main airfield, he saw there was an unusual number of Piper Cubs parked on the gra.s.s beside the taxiway. And then he saw that just about all of them bore U.S. Constabulary markings.

There were a number of vehicles lined up beside a mobile stairway where the general's plane was expected to stop. Three buses, one of them bearing Constabulary insignia, three 6x6 trucks, a dozen staff cars, and two Packard Clippers.

He hand-signaled Tiny first to look where he was pointing, and then for him to put on his headset.

"There's a welcoming party," he said. "Jesus, there's even a band."

Dunwiddie did not reply.

"I don't know how long it's going to take for General White to get off his plane and into one of those Packards, but it won't take long, and I can't afford you giving me any trouble. Got it?"

Dunwiddie did not reply.

When the Follow me had led Cronley to where he wanted him to park the Storch on the gra.s.s-maybe a quarter-mile from the cars and buses-an Air Force major wearing an Airfield Officer of the Day bra.s.sard drove up.

Oh, s.h.i.t!

More trouble about the Storchs.

Cronley got out of the airplane as the major got out of his jeep.

"Interesting airplane, Captain," the major said.

Christ, I forgot I'm wearing my bars!

Belatedly, Cronley saluted.

"They're great airplanes," Cronley agreed. "Plural," he added, pointing to the Storch with Ostrowski and Schrder in it.

"I also understand the Air Force has grounded them."

Cronley took his DCI credentials from his pocket and handed them to the major.