And that concertina wire has to go, too. If we're going to pretend that what's going on in here is an industrial development organization, the entrance can't look like a POW enclosure.

And maybe get those Poles some different uniforms. So they look like cops, not soldiers.

And, obviously, the sooner I get some of Tiny's people down here the better.

- Two hundred yards down the road, there was another checkpoint. More Poles in dyed fatigues, but also an American soldier, a stocky technical sergeant armed with a .45 as well as a carbine.

He walked up to the Kapitn and waited for Cronley to roll down the window.

"You from the CIC?" the sergeant asked.

"That's what's painted on the b.u.mpers, Twenty-three CIC," Cronley replied.

"Where's Captain Cronley?" the sergeant asked.

Obviously, the sergeant does not think I could be a captain.

Well, there are very few twenty-two-year-old captains.

"My name is Cronley." He produced his CIC credentials.

The sergeant saluted. Cronley returned it.

"Sorry, Captain."

"I look so young because I don't drink, smoke, fornicate, or have impure thoughts," Cronley said. "I'm actually thirty-six."

The sergeant laughed.

"Yeah, you are. Sir, there's a Signal Corps lieutenant looking for you."

"Where is he?"

"At your quarters."

"My quarters?"

"You're going to be the CO of whatever this is, right?"

Cronley nodded.

"Then your quarters are right next door to the general offices. You know where that is?"

Cronley nodded again.

"There's a sign on it. Says 'Military Government Liaison Officer.' In English. And in German."

"I think I can find it. Thanks."

- Three minutes later, having pa.s.sed through the third, inner checkpoint-this one manned by three Polish guards and two American soldiers-he found a Signal Corps lieutenant he thought was the one looking for him. He and three soldiers were sitting in a three-quarter-ton truck parked in front of a small house. It was next to the larger building on which was a sign identifying it as the GENERAL-BROS SD-DEUTSCHE INDUSTRIELLE ENTWICKLUNGSORGANISATION.

If these guys came on the Blue Danube train from Frankfurt, where did they get the truck?

The sign on the smaller building was only slightly smaller.

UNITED STATES MILITARY GOVERNMENT LIAISON OFFICER.

US-MILITR REGIERUNG LIAISON OFFIZIER.

- Clever intelligence officer that I am, I guess that's what Mattingly decided they should call the commanding officer. You really wouldn't want to hang a sign that read OFFICE OF THE CIC OFFICER IN COMMAND OF THIS OPERATION WE DON'T WANT ANYBODY TO KNOW ABOUT.

- Cronley pulled the Kapitn in beside the truck and got out. The lieutenant got out of the truck and walked over to the staff car. So did the men with him. They were all sergeants, he saw, a sergeant, a staff sergeant, and a technical sergeant.

"You're from the Twenty-third?" the lieutenant asked.

Cronley nodded.

"Where's Captain Cronley?"

"You're looking at him."

The lieutenant's eyebrows rose.

That's two people in a row who can't believe that sweet-faced Little Jimmy Cronley could possibly be a captain.

No. Not two. Five. Two of the sergeants look incredulous. The older one, the tech sergeant, looks disgusted.

And I really can't get indignant, because they're right; I shouldn't be a captain.

More important, I really have no business being put in charge of this place.

When did Frade say Major-what's Polo's name?-Major Maxwell Ashton III is going to get here?

"Sir, I'm not trying to be difficult," the lieutenant said, "but have you got some identification?"

Cronley produced his CIC credentials.

"I look younger than I am," Jimmy volunteered, "because I don't drink, smoke, fornicate, or have impure thoughts."

I didn't even think before that came out of my mouth.

Maybe what I really should be is a Special Services comedian, entertaining the troops.

The lieutenant and the tech sergeant laughed.

"Maybe I should try that," the lieutenant said. He put out his hand. "Sir, my name is Stratford"-he pointed at the sergeants one at a time-"and this is Tech Sergeant Mitch.e.l.l, Staff Sergeant Kramer, and Sergeant Fortin."

Cronley shook their hands. None of them said a word.

"Sir, we've got a system for you," Stratford said. "I guess you know that?"

Cronley nodded.

"I think you also know what kind of a system," the lieutenant said. "The one cla.s.sified Top Secret."

"I've been wondering where you got it," Cronley said.

"Major McClung . . ." He paused, asking with his eyes if Cronley knew who he meant.

"Iron Lung. Also known as 'the Whisperer.'"

That got smiles from the two junior sergeants, a look of displeasure from the tech sergeant, and an uncomfortable smile from Lieutenant Stratford.

"Major McClung," Stratford went on, "had one system in the vault with the crypto machines. There was a sign on it, 'Not to Be Issued Without Specific Authorization from CO, ASA Europe.' I guess we now have that authorization. You have the access code, right? Otherwise we're just spinning our wheels."

"I have the access code for the SIGABA at Kloster Grnau, if that's what you mean," Cronley said.

"Major McClung told us we're not supposed to say out loud either of the two things you just said out loud," Technical Sergeant Mitch.e.l.l said.

"Thank you, Sergeant Mitch.e.l.l, I'll keep that in mind," Cronley said, then turned to Stratford. "What do you mean, without the code we'll be spinning our wheels?"

"Well, we can install those unnamed devices, but they won't work without the access code. Major McClung didn't give it to us."

"Probably because he didn't have it," Cronley replied. "How long is it going to take you to get these nameless devices up and running?"

"Not long. The ASA guys here in Munich-the ones who are going to move in here-put up the antennas with the antenna farm they're going to use. They were not told what they were for and know better than to ask. They ran a buried cable over there."

He pointed between the headquarters and liaison officer buildings. Cronley saw a coil of heavily insulated cable.

"So all we have to do is run that into wherever you want these installed in your building."

"Let's do it."

"Before we do: Major McClung said he thinks you know how to operate these things, but not how to maintain them. True?"

"True."

"All of us have Top Secret clearances . . ."

"What about Lindbergh?"

"Lindbergh?"

"Top SecretLindbergh."

"Never heard of it."

"Major McClung has. He's got one. That's the clearance we work under here."

"So where does that leave us, sir?"

"I don't know. You were saying?"

"The major said you can have us-one of us, several of us, or all of us-for as long as you need us."

"To keep these nameless devices running, as well as install them?"

Lieutenant Stratford nodded.

"The system here," Stratford said, "and at that other place we're not supposed to say out loud. I thought you might want to make up your mind about what you're going to need before we install these things."

"Well, that's very nice of Major McClung," Cronley said. "Let me think about it."

And he did so out loud: "So, if I said just one of you would be enough to set up the system here, and at the other place, the rest of you could wait in the truck and would not know what actually happened to those things we're not supposed to talk about?"

"That's the idea. I could probably offer a helpful suggestion if I knew what was going on here and at the other place we're not supposed to say out loud. But you can't tell me, right?"

"No, I can't," Cronley said. "Or . . . Two things. There is actually another place with a system. And I'm making up my mind just how much I can tell you."

"I understand."

"Decision made. I'll keep everybody. If it turns out I don't need everybody, I can . . ." He stopped. "If it turns out I don't need everybody, I'll still have to keep everybody."

"Because everybody would know all about these things we can't say out loud?" Lieutenant Stratford asked, smiling.

Cronley nodded.

"Your call," the lieutenant said.

"How is the Whisperer going to feel if I keep all of you?"

"I got the impression it's really your call, that you get whatever you think you need, including all of us."

"All of you, then. They call that redundancy. It's important that these things work over the next ten days."

"Okay, let's get them up and running. You show us where you want them."

"I really wish I could tell you more," Cronley said as they walked to the door of what was going to be his quarters.

Before he actually reached the door, he realized that he was going to have to do exactly that.

[ FOUR ].