Orlovsky's face showed he was wondering if the question was innocent. And then Cronley saw disappointment on it when Orlovsky realized Cronley and Dunwiddie had an agenda.

Is he sorry he fell for our charm, and didn't immediately suspect an agenda?

Or maybe he's disappointed in me personally.

That disorientation of Bischoff's wasn't entirely ineffective. He had a lot of time to think in that cell with no lights and no company but the smell of his own feces.

And then I came along and was nice to him.

And was even nicer today.

He thought he had found a friend, and what he's disappointed about is that he knows he should have known better.

And then Cronley saw what he thought was resignation.

"No," Orlovsky said. "The Leningrad State University has no connection with the military or the NKGB. Actually, I was sent there by the NKGB. I took what you Americans would call a master's degree at Leningrad. Then I took what I suppose you could call my doctorate at the Felix Dzerzhinsky Federal Security Service Academy in Moscow. When I graduated, I was commissioned."

"As a second lieutenant?"

"As a captain."

He's telling the truth, which means (a) he suspects I already knew where NKGB officers come from, and (b) has decided that since he's a dead man, it doesn't matter what he tells me, unless it's the names of the Germans he's turned. And he's not going to give them to me.

"Who's Felix whatever you said?" Dunwiddie asked.

"Felix Dzerzhinsky founded the Cheka, which evolved over the years into the NKGB," Orlovsky replied. Then he laid his knife and fork neatly on his plate, and then pushed it several inches away from him.

"You can eat your breakfast, Konstantin," Cronley said. "You're not going to be shot. At least not by us."

When Orlovsky looked at him but made no move, Cronley said, "Don't be a fool. After the starvation diet our pal Bischoff has had you on, you need the strength."

"I'm sure you've heard that we Americans always feed the condemned man a hearty meal," Dunwiddie said, and smiled.

Orlovsky considered both comments for a moment, then pulled the plate to him. He began to saw a piece off the ham steak, and finally said, "Thank you."

"Our pleasure," Dunwiddie said. "Think nothing of it."

Orlovsky smiled as he forked a ham chunk into his mouth. When he had finished chewing it appreciatively, he said, "Delicious. Thank you for . . . encouraging . . . me to eat it."

"We could do no less, Konstantin," Dunwiddie said.

"What did you really hope to gain from your hospitality?" Orlovsky asked. "You know I am not going to give what you're asking."

"I think you will," Cronley said, hoping his voice conveyed more confidence than he felt. "We have three or four days for you to consider the advantages of telling us."

"And after four days, I'll be shot?"

"Not by us," Cronley said.

"By Bischoff? Or another of Gehlen's people?"

Well, here goes.

This probably won't work, but since I can think of nothing else . . .

"If you are shot," Cronley said, "I'd say the odds are the shooter will be a fellow alumnus of the Felix Dzerzhinsky Federal Security Service Academy."

Orlovsky looked intently at him, but his face showed nothing.

"Your a.s.sets-the Germans you have turned, Konstantin, and are so n.o.bly protecting-are going to be your downfall. Over the next few days, I'm going to make sure they see what great friends you and I have become. They're clever fellows, and I have every confidence that they will know how to pa.s.s that information along to whoever was out there waiting for you the night Sergeant Tedworth caught you."

He let that sink in for a moment, then went on: "There had to be someone waiting for you, Konstantin. You didn't miraculously appear at Kloster Grnau like the Christmas fairy does on Christmas Eve. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he-or they-are out there as we speak, peering at us through binoculars and wondering what the h.e.l.l you're doing in here right now. As a matter of fact, I hope they are.

"Step Two, or Three or Four, presuming you remain uncooperative, will be your being trussed up like a Christmas turkey and loaded into my Storch. I will then fly you to Berlin, put you into the trunk of a staff car, and drive you into the Russian Zone, where I will leave you sitting on the curb."

Orlovsky looked as if he was going to say something, but Cronley put up his hand to stop him.

"I don't want to sound rude, but right now I want you to think things over very carefully before you say anything."

Cronley stood.

"Finish your breakfast, Konstantin," he said, then turned to Dunwiddie. "When he's finished, have him taken back to das Gasthaus."

"Dressed like that?"

"Oh, no. Dressed as he was when we brought him here. For the time being, let's let everybody think we still don't like him."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll be in my office if you need me."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll see you soon, Konstantin, after you've had a little time to think things over," Cronley said, and then walked out of the sitting room.

[ FOUR ].

XXIIIrd CIC Detachment Officers' Open Mess Kloster Grnau Schollbrunn, Bavaria American Zone of Occupation, Germany 1505 31 October 1945 Cronley was sitting alone at the bar with a bottle of Jack Daniel's when Dunwiddie walked in ten minutes later.

"It's a little early for that, isn't it, Captain, sir?" Dunwiddie greeted him.

"I've already had my breakfast, so why not?"

"Are you celebrating, drowning your sorrows, or just boozing it up?"

"I've been trying to make up my mind about that."

"Drinking just because it makes you feel good is decadent and depraved."

"I'll bet they taught you that at Maple Syrup U."

"Actually, my mother repeated that line to me no more than five million times."

Dunwiddie went behind the bar, took a bottle of Haig & Haig Pinch Scots whisky from the display, then sat on a stool next to Cronley.

"However," he went on, as he poured a gla.s.s nearly full, "under the circ.u.mstances, I feel a little taste is in order."

He took a very healthy swallow of the whisky, and smacked his lips appreciatively.

If it's true, Cronley thought, that the larger the corpus into which alcohol is introduced the less effect it has on said corpus, Tiny can do that all day without getting noticeably plastered.

As far as normal-sized people like me are concerned, I better not have any more of this. Right now, getting even slightly plastered is something I can't afford to do.

"Speaking of your sainted mother, Tiny, I thought that story about her sending you maple syrup worked well with Konstantin. We've got to get him thinking about his mother, his wife, his family."

"Yeah."

"I wish I knew if his father is alive, if he has any kids."

"You're thinking that if we can get him thinking about his mommy and daddy, his loving wife, and their little ones, if any . . . ?"

"He might start to think that while a bullet in the back of his head might solve his problems, the NKGB might turn its kind attention to them. I'm pretty sure he's been trying very hard not to think of them, so we have to make sure he does."

"He looked very unhappy when Tedworth was leading him back to his cell."

"He looked very unhappy when Tedworth led him in from his cell. What we have to do is give him some hope for the future."

"And reminding him that he's got a family about to get sent to Siberia, or shot, because he got caught is going to give him hope for the future?"

Tiny, looking past Jim, then quickly covered his mouth with his hand and said, "Change the subject."

Cronley looked over his shoulder. Former Oberst Ludwig Mannberg had entered the room and was walking toward them.

"Ah, I'd hoped to find you here, Captain Cronley," Mannberg said, smiling and offering his hand.

Cronley smiled, remembering what Tiny had said about habitual handshaking Germans: "They can't go to the can to take a leak unless they first shake hands with everybody in the room."

I don't want to call him Herr Oberst, because he's not a colonel anymore and I don't want him to think I don't know that.

On the other hand, I don't want to p.i.s.s him off, either. Unintentionally.

"Will you join us for a little taste, Herr Oberst?" Cronley said as they shook hands.

"It's a little early for me, thank you just the same," Mannberg said. "I'm hoping you can spare a few minutes for me."

"Anytime, Herr Oberst. You know that."

Mannberg gave his hand to Tiny, said, "Herr Dunwiddie," and then added, "I don't mean to be rude, but I was hoping to have a few minutes alone with Captain Cronley."

"Dunwiddie's my deputy, Herr Oberst. Anything you have to say to me-"

"Of course, of course," Mannberg said quickly. "No offense, Herr Dunwiddie."

"None taken," Tiny said. "What can we do for you?"

"It concerns the NKGB agent, Orlovsky."

"What about him?" Cronley asked.

"Well, what's happened is that Oberstleutnant Bischoff has gone to the general and said that somehow you and he got off on the wrong foot."

Cronley didn't reply.

"And the general asked me to see what I could do about straightening out the situation, the misunderstanding, between you."

"What misunderstanding is that?"

"Well," Mannberg said, "my understanding was that Herr Oberst Mattingly has told Herr Dunwiddie to keep an eye on the situation for him while we deal with it."

"He did."

"Well, Bischoff said that you had issued orders that he was not to be allowed to further interrogate the Russian."

"I did."

"I don't understand, Herr Kapitn."

"I didn't like what Bischoff was doing to Orlovsky, and I saw that he wasn't getting anywhere with him, so I've taken over the interrogation."

"Oberstleutnant Bischoff is a highly trained, greatly experienced interrogator, our best."

"I can only repeat what I said, that I didn't like what he was doing to Orlovsky and I saw that he wasn't getting anywhere with him, so I took over the investigation. There's no misunderstanding."

"With all respect, Herr Kapitn Cronley, I must protest."

"Duly noted."

"And I must ask you to reconsider. The Russian must be broken."

"I intend to get the information we both want from him."