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“I heard it’s even bigger than Camp Pendleton, and there should be a lot of planes on the air base because of the paratroopers.”
“You’re trying to impress Frogger?”
Frade nodded again.
“I don’t think that will work, and I don’t think taking him to see Putzi Hanfstaengl in Washington is a good idea.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ!” Frade said in exasperation.
“By now, you should know that the way this works is I make the decisions and you make them happen.”
“Colonel, what you said was, ‘Use your best judgment. I’ll back whatever you decide to do.’ This is my best judgment. If you don’t want to do it, Colonel, sir, that’s your call.”
“I don’t like your tone of voice, Major,” Graham said coldly.
Frade’s face showed that he didn’t much care whether Colonel Graham liked the tone of his voice or not.
After a long moment, Graham said, “You showed him that Office of War Information radioteletype about warning people to get out of Berlin?” When Frade nodded, Graham added, “If you really want to impress him, we could quote refuel end quote at Newark.”
“What’s going on at Newark?”
“It’s the jump-off point for B-17s, B-24s, and whatever else can make it across the Atlantic. The last time I was there, it was a sea of bombers.”
Frade nodded his understanding.
“And on the way,” Graham said, warming to his own idea, “we could fly over Manhattan—which has not been bombed—and then over the shipyards in New Jersey and around Baltimore . . . and finally Washington, the White House, and all those buildings untouched by the war.”
He saw the look on Frade’s face.
“Okay, Clete, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt. Allen Dulles thinks turning the Froggers is important.”
Frade did not reply.
“This isn’t the first time that I’ve given you the benefit of my very serious doubts, is it?”
“I don’t think I’d better answer that.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Graham said.
Frade didn’t respond.
“There are several problems with taking him to see Putzi at the Hotel Washington,” Graham went on. “For one thing, Frogger says he never heard of him—”
“He’s heard of him,” Frade said flatly.
Graham grinned. “Odd, we’ve found something we agree on. I’ll have to give Putzi a heads-up we’re coming, and why.”
“Just tell him we want him to convince Willi that Putzi was a pal of Adolf and his cronies, and—”
“I know what to tell him,” Graham cut him off. “What I’m thinking is that taking a German officer, in Afrikakorps uniform, into the Hotel Washington may raise some eyebrows.”
“If anybody asks, tell them he’s a character in one of Howard’s movies.”
Graham shook his head.
“And speaking of Howard,” Frade said, “are those guys in the white jackets on the Constellation his or yours? They’re the same ones who were in the Chateau Marmont, right?”
“You mean Howard’s Saints? I wondered how long it was going to take you to get around to asking about them.”
