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“Cronley,” Frade said.
Well, Cronley thought, that answers the question “Does McClung know about the Collins and the SIGABA?”
Then, without thinking about what he was doing, Cronley leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his neck. When he saw that Frade, Mattingly, and Mrs. Greene were looking askance at him, he quickly lowered his arms, shifted in his chair, and moved it closer to the table. Rachel’s toes moved immediately to his crotch. After a moment, she withdrew, and then put her foot back on his instep.
“And I’m sure you have considered the possibility,” Mattingly said sarcastically, “that when the Soviets inevitably breach the security of Kloster Grünau or Pullach, they might wish to ask Captain Cronley what he knows about Operation Ost.”
“All Cronley has to do is say, ‘I’m the commanding officer of the guard company. Colonel Mattingly told me I don’t have the Need to Know what’s going on in the compound and am not to ask.’ And, as Mrs. Greene and others have pointed out, he’s only a captain. Captains are unimportant.”
“And you think he could handle pressure like that?” Mattingly asked. His tone made it clear that he didn’t think so.
“I do. But what matters is that Admiral Souers does.”
“I’m really getting tired of all this shop talk,” Mrs. Greene announced. “I want to dance.”
“Colonel Frade,” Colonel Schumann said, “do you think it would be useful if I took a look at your security arrangements for the Pullach operation? I know McClung is going down there in the near future, and I could go with him.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Frade said. “And—I don’t know how this fits into your schedule, Colonel Mattingly—but how about us all meeting in Munich after I deal with Gehlen?”
Before Mattingly could answer, Rachel said, “Grace, if you and I went down there with them, we could see what will have to be done for the dependent quarters before people start moving in.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” General Greene said. “I’d like to see the Pullach compound myself.”
“We could take the Blue Danube,” Grace Greene said, smiling. “It has a marvelous dining car. And then we can stay at the Vier Jahreszeiten. I like the Vier Jahreszeiten. There’s nothing as nice in Frankfurt.”
Cronley thought both that it was the first time the general’s lady had smiled since she’d walked into the dining room and also that Frade’s face showed that he had no idea what the Blue Danube was.
Cronley did: Tiny Dunwiddie had told him what had happened to the private trains used by Nazi bigwigs. The Army Transportation Corps had gathered them up and assigned Hitler’s and Goering’s to Eisenhower and U.S. High Commissioner for Germany John J. McCoy.
The other super-luxury private trains had been given to General George S. Patton and other very senior American officers. Except for one. While other deserving three-star generals had been scrambling for trains for themselves, that one, Tiny had told him delightedly, had been “lost” by an old 2nd Armored “Hell on Wheels” officer in Bad Nauheim. When Major General I. D. White returned to Germany to assume command of the U.S. Constabulary, it would be “found” with Constabulary insignia painted all over it.
What was left of the first-class cars and the best dining cars had been formed into trains and put into Army service between the six hubs of American forces in Europe—Paris, France; Berlin, Frankfurt, and Munich in Occupied Germany; and Salzburg and Vienna in “liberated” Austria.
The Paris–Frankfurt luxury train was dubbed the Main-Siener, making reference to the rivers that flowed through those cities, and the Berlin-Frankfurt-Munich-Vienna train the Blue Danube.
“Then it’s settled,” Frade said. “We’ll all meet in Munich the day after tomorrow.”
I’ll be damned, he did know what the Blue Danube was!
No. He just decided that if Mrs. Greene wanted to “take the Blue Danube,” whatever it is, she was unstoppable.
“And now,” Frade announced, “because Captain Cronley and I are going flying as the rooster crows tomorrow morning, I must beg that we be excused from this charming company.”
Before Cronley could stand, Rachel’s foot gave his instep a final caress, and when he shook her hand to say good night, she said, “Well, I guess we’ll see each other soon.”
[ TWO ]
As they entered the lobby, Clete said, “Don’t even look at the bar. We have more to talk about.”
“Oh, boy, do we.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Wait until we’re someplace no one can hear us.”
—
When they were in Clete’s room, he pointed to an armchair and then the bottle of Dewar’s.
