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“Yes, sir.”
“Christians, such as myself and General Gehlen, Sergeant Lewis, believe to err is human, to forgive divine. You may wish to write that down.”
“Yes, sir. Will that be all, sir?”
“Carry on, Sergeant Lewis.”
[ TWO ]
Commanding Officer’s Quarters
Kloster Grünau, Schollbrunn, Bavaria
American Zone of Occupation, Germany
1235 5 November 1945
Preceded by Staff Sergeant Harold Lewis Jr., two of Tiny’s Troopers led Major Konstantin Orlovsky into the room. The Russian was shackled, his arms strapped to his sides, his hands cuffed behind him, and he had a duffel bag over his head.
Cronley gestured for Lewis to take off the bag.
“Konstantin,” Cronley said as Orlovsky squinted in the sudden light, “I asked Sergeant Lewis to tell you that General Gehlen, Colonel Mannberg, and myself would be pleased to have you join us for lunch, over which we will answer any questions you might have about the latest SIGABA message. And if you just came to ask questions about the latest SIGABA message, I will understand that is a matter of principle. But I hate to ask my men to go through the inconvenience of getting you out of what you’re wearing and into something more appropriate for lunch if it is your intention to sit there with your arms folded self-righteously across your chest while you watch the three of us eat. Which is it to be?”
“I accept your kind invitation to lunch,” Orlovsky said.
“Please assist the major in changing, Sergeant Lewis,” Cronley ordered.
—
When they had gone into Cronley’s bedroom and the door had been closed, General Gehlen very quietly said, “An unorthodox interrogation technique, but I’m starting to think an effective one. Wouldn’t you agree, Ludwig?”
“Captain Cronley has the advantage of a Strasburgerin mother. Everyone knows Strasbourgers can charm wild beasts.”
Does he mean that? Or does he realize I’ve won the interrogation technique argument with the general?
—
Orlovsky came back into the room, now dressed in olive drab trousers and a shirt from Cronley’s closet.
“Can I have Sergeant Lewis get you a beer, Konstantin?” Cronley asked.
“That would be kind of you.”
“Get the major a beer, please, Sergeant Lewis. And then ask them to serve our lunch.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Before we get into any questions you might have about the SIGABA message, Konstantin, Ludwig—Colonel Mannberg—is curious why you changed your mind about breaking bread with us.”
“I gave the matter some thought after I passed on dinner last night,” Orlovsky said. “I realized there was nothing I could do to get you to stop this . . . this childish theater of yours. And then it occurred to me that there was no reason I shouldn’t eat while I was being forced to listen.”
“That not eating was sort of cutting off your nose to spite your face?”
Orlovsky shook his head.
“If you like,” he said.
“Good for you. And you’re drinking beer, presumably, because of what Christ said according to Saint Timothy?”
