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“If that’s the case, General,” Cronley said, “you can have Sergeant Tedworth, too.”
“That might even be better,” Gehlen said. “One final thing. May I bring Colonel Mannberg into this?”
“Of course,” Frade said. He paused, then went on: “That about winds it up for me here. Unless you have something else, General?”
Gehlen shook his head.
“In that case, sir, what I would like to do—if it makes sense to you—is go see Orlovsky, taking Cronley with me. I will tell him we have to leave—hell, I’ll tell him the truth: I’ll tell him I have to get back to the States, and then to Argentina, and that he will be dealing with you and Cronley.”
Gehlen nodded. “I think it important that Jim remain involved.”
“And this time, Captain Cronley, you will heed the sage advice of this expert interrogator no matter what he suggests.”
Cronley nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“And, Jimmy, you and I should get back in the Storch and go to Munich. The sooner I can get a look at Pullach and get to Frankfurt, the better.”
“Taking the Storch may not be a good idea. We better drive.”
“Why?”
“The Air Force doesn’t like Storches.”
Cronley explained the trouble he had had at Eschborn and the trouble he thought they would encounter at the Army airfield outside Munich.
“I don’t want to lose the Storch, Clete. Either of them. I think I’m really going to need them. And losing them’s a real possibility.”
“You are a lucky man, Captain Cronley,” Frade said. “When you fly back here in your Storch after dropping me off at Rhine-Main tomorrow morning, you will be privileged to witness a genuine expert outwit a Russian NKGB agent. Few people have an opportunity to see something like that. And when we land at this airfield where you think they will try to take away your airplane, you will be privileged to watch a genuine Marine expert outwit difficult Army—or Air Force, as the case may be—bureaucrats in uniform. Few people are privileged to see something like that, either.”
Cronley shook his head.
“Say, ‘yes, sir,’” Frade said.
“Yes, sir.”
General Gehlen laughed and smiled warmly.
Clete offered his hand. Gehlen took it, but what began as a formality turned personal. They wound up hugging each other.
[ THREE ]
Schleissheim Army Airfield
Munich, American Zone of Occupation, Germany
1710 2 November 1945
“Schleissheim, Army Seven-Oh-Seven understands Number One to land on Two-four,” Cronley said into his microphone, then moved the switch to INTERCOM and went on, “This is certainly going to be interesting.”
“What?” Frade asked.
“Well, Schleissheim means ‘Home of Strip,’ so I’m hoping we’ll be greeted by two fräuleins in their underwear. But I’m afraid what we’re going to get is some of those officers I told you about, the ones who’ll want to take my plane away from me.”
“Just do what I told you to do. Say, ‘yes, sir.’”
“Yes, sir.”
Jimmy moved the switch back to TRANSMIT and announced, “Seven-Oh-Seven on final.”
