"Not quite. I haven't figured out what to do with Ostrowski."

"Meaning?"

"That I haven't figured out what to do about . . . or with him."

"For example?"

"You do hang on like a starving dog does to a bone, don't you, Mr. Dunwiddie?"

"What are you thinking?"

"Among other things, he could fly one of our Storchs. He used to fly Spitfires."

"That would mean we would have an ex-Luftwaffe pilot and a Polish DP flying airplanes we're not supposed to have in the first place. And among what other things?"

"The OSS used to have civilian employees. Maybe the Directorate of Central Intelligence can."

"Interesting thought," General Gehlen said. "Ostrowski is an interesting man."

"With all respect, sir," Dunwiddie said, "whenever you and Captain Cronley agree on something, I worry."

[TWO].

Office of the Chief, Counterintelligence Corps Headquarters, European Command The I.G. Farben Building Frankfurt am Main American Zone of Occupation, Germany 1145 29 December 1945 Major Thomas J. Derwin, who was thirty-four, five feet ten, weighed 165 pounds, and to whose green tunic lapels were pinned the crossed rifles of Infantry and whose shoulder bore the embroidered insignia of Army Ground Forces, pushed open the door under the sign identifying the suite of offices of the chief, Counterintelligence Corps, European Command.

Derwin was carrying two canvas suitcases, called Valv-Paks. He set them down just inside the door and looked around the office. There were four people in it. One of them, sitting behind a desk, was a Women's Army Corps-WAC-chief warrant officer, an attractive woman in her late twenties. She was wearing the female version of pinks and greens-a green tunic over a pink skirt.

The three men were wearing OD Ike jackets and trousers. One of them was a stocky, nearly bald master sergeant. He was sitting behind a desk next to the WAC's desk. Sitting slumped in chairs before the master sergeant's desk were a captain-a good-looking young guy-and an enormous black man whose uniform was bare of any insignia of rank.

As they rose to their feet, Derwin realized he knew the captain.

Cronley, he thought. James D. Cronley Jr. I had him in a Techniques of Surveillance cla.s.s at Holabird. They were so short of officers in Germany that they pulled him out of school and sent him over here before he finished. Then I saw him again at the officers' club at Holabird a couple of months ago. He said he was in the States as an escort officer for some cla.s.sified material.

And then, immediately, Derwin knew he was wrong.

What the h.e.l.l. I've just spent twenty-six hours flying over here. Brain-wise, I'm not functioning on all six cylinders. Which is not going to help me when I meet my new boss. First impressions do matter. That captain is not Cronley. Cronley's a second lieutenant. Amazing physical resemblance.

"May I help you, sir?" the master sergeant asked.

"I'm Major Derwin, Sergeant. Reporting for duty."

"Yes, sir, we've been expecting you," the WAC said. "I'll let the general know you're here."

She went to an interior door and pushed it open.

"General, Major Derwin is here."

"Captain," Derwin asked, "has anyone ever told you that you bear a striking resemblance to a second lieutenant named Cronley?"

"Yes, sir," the captain said, smiling. "I've heard that."

A stocky, forty-three-year-old officer with a crew cut appeared in the inner office door. His olive-drab uniform had the single star of a brigadier general on its epaulets.

That has to be my new boss, Brigadier General H. Paul Greene, chief, Counterintelligence, European Command.

And he looks like the tough sonofab.i.t.c.h everybody says he is.

General Greene looked at the WAC.

"Why didn't you tell me these two were here?"

The captain answered for her.

"We're waiting for General Gehlen, sir. He said he'd like to be present, and I thought it was a nice gesture on his part, so I brought him along."

Did he say "General Gehlen"? Not, certainly, Generalmajor Reinhard Gehlen?

"And where is General Gehlen?"

"As we tried to sneak in the back door, General Smith's convoy rolled up," Captain Cronley replied. "He asked the general if he had a few minutes for him, and of course General Gehlen did."

General Smith? General Walter Bedell Smith, chief of staff to General of the Army Dwight D. Eisenhower, commander in chief, European Command?

"And that surprised you?" General Greene said, chuckling.

"No, sir, it did not."

"You're Derwin?"

"Yes, sir, I'm Major Derwin."

The general's face showed he was thinking.

"Okay, everybody come in," he said finally. "They call that 'killing two birds with one stone.'"

He turned and they followed him into the office.

There was an elegantly turned out, handsome colonel of Armor slouched on a couch before a coffee table. He wore a green Ike jacket over pink trousers. His trousers were pulled up high enough to reveal highly polished Tanker boots.

The general went behind his desk.

Derwin marched up to it, came to attention, and saluted.

"Sir, Major Thomas G. Derwin reporting for duty."

The general returned the salute, said, "You may stand at ease," then extended his hand. "Welcome to EUCOM CIC, Major. How was the flight?"

The general gestured for the captain to sit, and he did so, in an armchair at one end of the coffee table.

"Long and noisy, sir."

"I am having symptoms of caffeine deficiency," the general said, raising his voice.

"Antidote on the way, General," a female voice called.

A moment later, the WAC chief warrant officer pushed a wheeled tray holding a silver coffee service into the room.

"We can pour our own coffee, Alice-or get Cronley to pour it . . ."

Did he say Cronley?

". . . and then no calls except from the Command Group. When General Gehlen appears, show him in."

"Yes, sir," the WAC officer said.

"Cronley, what's Gehlen doing here?" the Armor colonel asked, somewhat unpleasantly.

"He said that he'd like to be present, so I brought him along."

"Was that necessary?" the colonel asked.

"I thought it was appropriate," Cronley replied.

The colonel doesn't like Captain Cronley. And Cronley-twice-didn't append "sir" when replying to the colonel's questions.

But he-and Greene-let him get away with it.

"Bob, this is Major Derwin. Major, this is Colonel Robert Mattingly, my deputy," the general said.

"Welcome to EUCOM, Major," Mattingly said, and offered his hand.

"Coffee, Cronley, coffee," General Greene said.

"Yes, sir," Cronley said. He stood up and started pouring coffee for everybody.

When he got to Derwin, Derwin asked, "Have we met, Captain?"

"Yes, sir," Cronley said.

"At Holabird?"

"Yes, sir."

The sonofab.i.t.c.h is smiling. What's so funny?

The master sergeant appeared at the door.

"Sir," he announced, "Generals Smith and Gehlen."

General Smith, a tall, trim, erect officer who was in ODs, and General Gehlen walked into the office. Everyone rose and stood to attention.

I'll be d.a.m.ned, Derwin thought. That is him, Generalmajor Reinhard Gehlen, former chief of Abwehr Ost, the intelligence agency of the German high command, dealing with the Ost . . . which meant the Russians.

What the h.e.l.l is he doing here?

With General Walter Bedell Smith, Ike's Number Two?

What's going on here?

"Rest, gentlemen, please," Smith said. "General Gehlen just told me what he was doing in Frankfurt, and I invited myself to the ceremony. I hope that's all right."

"Yes, sir, of course," General Greene said, not quite succeeding in concealing his surprise.

General Smith turned to Captain Cronley.

"Cronley, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"I had no idea who you were, Captain, just now at the rear entrance. Until General Eisenhower corrected me a few minutes ago, I thought the Captain Cronley who is to be chief, DCI-Europe, was going to be a barnacle-encrusted naval officer formerly on Admiral Souers's staff."

General Greene and Colonel Mattingly dutifully chuckled at General Smith's wit.

Major Derwin wondered, What the h.e.l.l is DCI-Europe? And who the h.e.l.l is Admiral Souers?

"No, sir. I'm just a simple, and junior, cavalryman."

"Well, you may be junior, Captain, but you're not simple. General Eisenhower also told me the circ.u.mstances of your recent promotion. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."

He offered Cronley his hand.

"Yes, sir," Cronley said.

General Smith turned to the enormous black man.

"Now to the second case of mistaken ident.i.ty," he said, and then asked, "Son, are you still a first sergeant?"

"Sir, at the moment I'm sort of in limbo. I was discharged yesterday."

He spoke softly in a very deep voice.