"Yes, sir, Captain."

"Okay. Now the question, Major Orlovsky, is, 'What do I do with you?'"

Orlovsky didn't reply.

"What the Germans want from you are the names of the people here who gave you those rosters Sergeant Tedworth took away from you. Once you give them the names, you'll all be . . . disposed of."

"That's the scenario I reached, Captain Cronley."

"It doesn't seem to worry you very much."

"Are you familiar with Roman poet Ovid, Captain?"

"I can't say that I am. I'm just a simple cowboy. We don't know much about Roman poets-for that matter, about any poets-in West Texas."

Orlovsky smiled.

"Ovid wrote, 'Happy is the man who has broken the chains which hurt the mind, and has given up worrying once and for all.'"

"Which means what? That you're happy to be locked up in the dark, waiting to be shot?"

"Which means that my only worry is that I will be subjected to a painful interrogation-for you a useless interrogation-before I am shot. That I will be shot is a given."

"Why useless? And why is you being shot a given?"

"So far as your first question is concerned, since I know I'm to be shot, why should I give you those names? And how could you be sure, if I gave you a name, or names, that they would be the names of the people you want? As to the second, what alternative do you have to eliminating me? You can't free me, and you can't keep me here for long."

Cronley didn't reply. He instead asked, "Where'd you learn your English?"

"In university. Leningrad State University. Why do you ask?"

"You speak it very well. I was curious."

"And you speak German very well," Orlovsky said, his tone making it a question.

"My mother taught me-she's German. I'll tell you what, Major: You think some more. Think of some way that you can give me the names I want in exchange for your life. And I'll do the same. Maybe we can make a deal."

"Why should I believe you have the authority to 'make a deal'?"

"Because I'm telling you I do."

"And what would Major Bischoff have to say about you making a deal?"

"I don't know, and I don't care. The Germans lost the war. I'm the honcho here. 'Honcho' is West Texas talk for 'the man in charge.'"

"That's a good deal of authority for a simple West Texas cowboy to have. Why should I believe you?"

"I don't see where you have another option."

He nodded at Orlovsky and turned to Staff Sergeant Lewis.

"I'm going, Sergeant. Bring people in here and make absolutely sure Major Orlovsky doesn't have the means to pull the plug on himself."

"Bischoff already thought of that, Captain."

"Look again. And keep Bischoff out of here."

"Yes, sir."

"Good night, Major Orlovsky. We'll talk again."

"Good evening, Captain Cronley."

[ SIX ].

When he had taken the chart case to his room and laid its contents out on his desk, Cronley quickly saw that Army Aviators used Air Force aerial charts, and that Air Force charts were essentially identical to the civilian charts with which he was familiar.

The case also contained a "knee-pad"-a clipboard onto which a chart could be fitted under a sheet of plastic. It had a spring clip on its underside so the board could be clipped to his pant leg-and not fall off-in flight.

He spent the better part of an hour planning his flight to Eschborn, using a grease pencil to write the critical data on the plastic over the chart, and then very carefully checking everything twice.

Then he took a shower and went to bed.

He went to sleep wondering what to think of his last conversation with Orlovsky. Was he really so resigned to being shot? Or was it a case of a skilled NKGB officer being able to use that to put a young and inexperienced officer in his pocket?

That raised the question of why he was putting his nose into something that could be-and more than likely should be-handled by Gehlen, Mannberg, and Bischoff without his interference.

The Squirt was lying asleep on her side on the couch along the right side of the Beech Model 18's cabin. She was wearing Western boots with a skirt that had come pretty high up as she moved in her sleep.

Jimmy had always found boots on girls in skirts very erotic.

He dropped to his knees and touched the Squirt's face tenderly with his fingertips.

Her eyes opened.

"What are you doing back here and not flying?" she said.

"I have designs on your virginal body."

"Not so virginal anymore, thanks to you. Who's flying the plane?"

"We're at ten thousand feet over Midland making five-minute circles on autopilot."

"You're crazy."

"I'm h.o.r.n.y, is what I am."

She sighed. "Me too, now."

They kissed.

He put his hand up her skirt.

She put her hand to the front of his trousers.

"Well, look what I found!" the Squirt said, smiling.

- "s.h.i.t! s.h.i.t! s.h.i.t!" he said furiously as he awoke.

And then he wailed, "Oh, G.o.d!" in anguish.

And then he wept.

For a long time.

And then he went to sleep again.

IV.

[ ONE ].

Kloster Grnau Schollbrunn, Bavaria American Zone of Occupation, Germany 0715 30 October 1945 First Sergeant Chauncey L. Dunwiddie, easily holding two large china mugs in his ma.s.sive left hand, knocked at the door to Captain James D. Cronley Jr.'s bedroom with the knuckles of his right fist.

"Come!"

Cronley was sitting on his bed, pulling on his pointed-toe boots.

"Coffee?" Dunwiddie asked.

"Oh, yeah. Danke schn."

Dunwiddie handed him a mug.

"You all right, Jim?"

"Why do I think you have a reason for asking beyond a first sergeant's to-be-expected concern for his beloved commanding officer?"

Dunwiddie hesitated momentarily, then said, "I've been wrong before. But when I got back at oh-dark-hundred and walked past your room, I thought I heard you crying in your sleep. I almost came in then, but my back teeth were floating, so I took a leak. When I came back, you'd stopped."

Cronley hesitated momentarily, too, before replying.

"I wasn't crying in my sleep. I was wide awake. I had what is politely called 'a nocturnal emission.' I started crying when I woke up and realized that wet dream-and every G.o.dd.a.m.ned thing a.s.sociated with it-was never going to come true."

Dunwiddie didn't reply.

"Am I losing my mind, Tiny?"

Dunwiddie hesitated again before replying, and when he did it wasn't a reply, but a question. He pointed at the chart case. "What's that?"

"That's an aviation chart case. Experienced pilots such as myself use them to carry maps-aviation navigation charts-around."

"You're going somewhere?"

"Eschborn. As soon as I have breakfast."

"Mattingly sent for you?"

"I told him I needed to talk to him."

"You going to tell me what about?"

"Orlovsky."

"He told me to deal with Orlovsky, Jim."

"That's what I want to talk to him about."

"I heard you went to see our Russian friend. Twice."

"Sergeant Lewis told you?"

"Sergeant Lewis waited until I got back from Sonthofen to tell me."

"I gather he didn't approve?"

"Actually, he began the conversation by saying, 'You know, our baby-faced captain isn't really a candy-a.s.s. He told Bischoff to f.u.c.k off, and then he told me if I told anybody but you what he said to Orlovsky he'd cut off my d.i.c.k with a dull bayonet.' Or words to that effect."

"That's close enough."