"More sabotage. A helluva lot more. We're already supplying some of General Sikorski's guerrillas. I want to give them the means to take out these camps and the trains supplying them. The Germans are building more death camps because all the others are at capacity." He paused, then added, "Frank, it's become a logistical problem for Hitler. His SS simply cannot 'cleanse' fast enough. And the killings have only gotten worse since Count Raczynski spoke to the United Nations."

The President shook his head in disgust.

"How the hell can I say no to that? Do it, Bill. But with this caveat: keep our fingerprints off it. I fear that if Hitler gets the idea we are targeting these camps-as opposed to it being just guerrillas-he will make an extra effort to kill those poor people faster. Just as happened after Raczynski's UN speech."

"Understood. Done."

Roosevelt then looked down, turned to the second message, and began reading:

TOP SECRET.

29MAY43 1750.

FOR OSS WASHINGTON.

EYES ONLY GEN DONOVAN.

FROM OSS BERN.

BEGIN QUOTE.

1. NAMES OF REDS ACQUIRED FROM THE SPARROW SAID TO HAVE INFILTRATED THE NEW MEXICO SANDBOX ARE BEING INVESTIGATED THROUGH TINY'S SOURCES.

2. TINY SAYS THAT YOUR BOSS'S DECLARATION OF ONLY AN UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER LEAVES NO ROOM TO NEGOTIATE WITH THOSE WHO COULD BE IN CHARGE OF TAKING OUT HITLER.

DULLES.

END QUOTE.

TOP SECRET.

Roosevelt poked his index finger at the sheet.

"What the hell!" the President blurted. "Does that say what I think it does? 'Reds' in 'New Mexico sandbox'?"

"We are checking it out. But, yes, Allen says our Russian friends have spies in the Manhattan Project."

Donovan noticed that the President seemed to stiffen at the suggestion of his Top SecretPresidential project not being absolutely secret.

The OSS was deeply invested in the MANHATTAN PROJECT, FDR's race to build the atomic bomb before Nazi Germany developed its own. A number of highly distinguished scientists-many Jewish, such as Albert Einstein and Niels Bohr-had fled the horrors of Nazi Europe. In a letter signed by Einstein and sent to Roosevelt in August 1939, they convinced the President that they believed that the scientific community could soon discover how to create the world's most powerful weapon-one producing the explosive equivalent of twenty thousand tons of TNT-by harnessing the power of a nuclear reaction.

FDR quickly understood that whoever was first to build such a weapon would win the war.

Thus, the OSS's first priority became the acquisition of whatever the MANHATTAN PROJECT needed-uranium ore, smuggled scientists, materiel, et cetera-as well as depriving the Germans of the same.

The President angrily shook the message.

"I'll have the bastards lined up and shot!" he said. "When those names come, I want a copy of them immediately!"

"Yes, sir. But if we do find that there are indeed Russian spies, they'd be worth more to us alive than-"

"Who the hell is this 'Tiny,' Bill?" Roosevelt interrupted. "We are getting one hell of a lot of information from one source. And I can only gather that he's also involved with where the Russian names came from."

"First, he is far from being our only source-it was the Sparrow, an American citizen whose parents are Russian, who sold us one short list of purported spies in Los Alamos, which Allen says Tiny is checking against Abwehr lists. Second, while it is a lot from one source, everything he has given us has been good. Everything, Frank. Tiny is even writing a book documenting how he's helping bring down Hitler. He lists who's who in the German High Command, what war crimes they're committing, et cetera, in anticipation of them being brought to justice after the Reich collapses."

"A book, you say?"

"A book," Donovan confirmed. "He works on it in Dulles's office, and keeps it locked up there for safekeeping. And of course Allen uses it for a reference."

"So then these Russian names are from the Abwehr," FDR said.

"Canaris, as you would expect of the head of German military intelligence, has his agents keeping a close eye on Stalin. And, in the course of that, it's logical that the Abwehr could come across such information."

"What's Tiny's real name?" FDR pursued, handing back the messages.

Donovan, stalling, folded the messages and put them in his shirt pocket. Then he took a sip of his drink, put it down, and took his fishing rod out of its holder. He raised the tip as he checked on his fishing lure.

FDR turned to him and repeated, "What's his real name, General?"

Donovan, the formal tone and use of his rank not lost on him, met FDR's eyes.

"Mr. President, I believe you will agree that what Tiny has told us thus far has proven to be invaluable. As Allen Dulles will tell you, it is extremely difficult for us to get anti-Nazi Germans to stick out their necks to help us when all they hear is that the Allies will not make any separate peace."

"So that is what the line about 'unconditional surrender' being a problem is about?" FDR pursued, his tone now icy. "That if Germany must surrender, any negotiations as to who takes over will be rendered null and void? You're telling me that this Tiny-or even Admiral Canaris-has no desire whatsoever to become head of a post-Hitler Germany?"

"What I know is that there are Germans who fervently believe that Hitler has lost the war and that the most important thing that they can do is remove him to stop the destruction of Germany and its people." He paused, then went on, "Mr. President, the fewer people who know of Tiny, the better. With all due respect, if I do not tell you, then it would be impossible for you to accidentally reveal his identity. And we cannot afford to lose him. I promise to share more as soon as possible."

FDR grunted, broke off eye contact, then silently turned his attention to his fishing lure. He looked to be in deep thought.

Ten minutes later, with not another word uttered between them, FDR suddenly pointed toward a twenty-two-foot-long Chris-Craft luxury motorboat. It was moving down the Potomac at full speed. The captain of the vessel and two other men waved to the Sequoia.

I think I know that boat, Donovan thought.

FDR said: "With your luck, Bill, that Chris-Craft is going to get close to your lure and scare off all your fish."

As the boat passed, the gold lettering painted on its transom came into view: CIRRHOSIS OF THE RIVER.

GEORGETOWN.

Yeah. I do know that boat.

Wonder who's aboard and where they're going?

Just as Donovan was going to reply to FDR, the brightly varnished red mahogany vessel made a sweeping U-turn and began to bear down on the stern of the Sequoia.

"Who the hell is that?" FDR idly wondered. "And who the hell would name their boat that?"

Jimmy Whittaker would, Donovan thought.

U.S. Army Captain James M.B. Whittaker (Harvard '39) was on an OSS mission in the Philippines. He had attended Saint Mark's prep school with Dick Canidy, and came from family wealth beyond imagination.

He who calls you "Uncle Frank" and owns not only the Georgetown mansion that we use as a safe house but God Only Knows What All Else. And who is unafraid of pissing you off.

That's who, Mr. President.

But I'm damn sure not going to bring him up now.

Three Secret Service agents, cradling Thompson submachine guns, suddenly appeared on the deck and went to stand at the starboard and stern railings, putting themselves between the President and the approaching vessel.

Donovan got up and stood beside the tall agent at the starboard railing. He now saw a man in a suit and tie standing at the stern of the Chris-Craft. In his right hand the man carried a black briefcase. The left hand had what looked like a death grip on the chrome railing that ran the length of the low cabin roof.

When the man saw Donovan at the railing, he put down the briefcase and saluted him.

"Friend of yours, Bill?" FDR said. "Are you getting picked up so you can avoid our fishing contest?"

After a moment, Donovan said, "Yes, sir. That is, about him being a friend. He works for me."

"You're absolutely sure of who this man is, sir?" the taller Secret Service agent said as he adjusted his grip on his Tommy gun.

Donovan, knowing that at least one M2 .50 caliber Browning machine gun-and maybe even an antiaircraft 40mm Bofors cannon-was trained on the approaching watercraft, looked at the President.

FDR put in: "Son, you heard the General. Let him aboard."

The agent looked over his shoulder, said, "Yes, sir, Mr. President," and passed the order for the crew to prepare to receive a visitor.

As the Chris-Craft slowed its approach, two lean U.S. Navy seamen apprentices, who Donovan thought looked to be all of fifteen, went amidship and put heavy bumpers made of hemp over the side, then tied them off so that they rested against the hull just above the waterline. The smaller boat then slowly came in alongside the Sequoia. Lines were tossed and cleated, and then the man in the suit was helped aboard the Sequoia.

Donovan turned to Roosevelt.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll be right back."

As Donovan started walking to intercept his OSS man, FDR, clenching his cigarette holder in his teeth, checked the line on his fishing reel.

He said, "And I'll be right here catching your fish."

Three minutes later, Donovan, holding a manila envelope and reading an unfolded sheet of paper, walked up to FDR. The Chris-Craft, with the courier back aboard, then could be seen dropping back behind the Sequoia and pulling away.

"What is so important?" Roosevelt said.

Donovan handed him the paper.

"A follow-up message from David Bruce concerning those aerial torpedoes. I think that, considering our conversation just now about London, you'll find this interesting."

III.

[ONE].

OSS Algiers Station Algiers, Algeria 1023 30 May 1943 Stan Fine motioned with his hand for John Craig van der Ploeg to pass him the new messages.

"Tell me why you're convinced about Tubes," Canidy said.

"It's mostly from the chickenfeed."

"I get that," Canidy said. "But what kind of chickenfeed?"

"For example," John Craig van der Ploeg said, "when President Roosevelt in his Fireside Chat announced he was significantly raising war production numbers-those hundred and twenty thousand additional fighter aircraft-I added another fifty percent and messaged 'a hundred and eighty thousand Lockheed Lightnings' along with news that Bizerta and Tunis were captured on May seventh and we had taken more than a quarter million German and Italian POWs. And I mixed in mindless information-weather forecasts, sports scores. All things that the Germans either already knew or that they could cross-check elsewhere. There's no question that the Krauts analyze every word FDR utters, so those aircraft numbers were easy to confirm, and the extra sixty thousand either made them think there'd been a keystroke error-or that the message was actually more accurate. And they of course are well aware of their own losses here in North Africa."

"Nice work."

John Craig van der Ploeg smiled. "Thank you. But the part of the chickenfeed that tells me whoever is running Tubes's W/T isn't really Tubes comes from the personal stuff I send him. We exchanged a lot of information when we practiced-including, of course, about . . ."

"About what?"

Canidy could see that John Craig was embarrassed.

"For Chrissake, the man's life is at stake. What the hell can you be embarrassed about?"