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[FOUR]
Office of the Chief, DCI-Europe
Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten
Maximilianstrasse 178
Munich, American Zone of Occupation, Germany
1745 17 January 1946
When Claudette Colbert returned from driving Dunwiddie to Kloster Grünau, Cronley greeted her the moment she closed the door. “Dette, we’re going to have a meeting. I want it to be formal. Set it up in my office. I’ll be at the head of the table. Put General Gehlen at the other end . . .”
“I get the idea.”
“Major Wallace will be joining us.”
“Got it.”
“And, for the future, as soon as you can, arrange with your former buddies in the ASA to make absolutely sure it’s not bugged, with emphasis on my office.”
“Done,” she said. “I mean, already done. I arranged for that when I came here. It was last swept just before we went to pick you up at the bahnhof, and they’ll sweep it again at 0500 tomorrow.”
“Great! You are a woman of amazing talents.”
“Of all kinds,” she said.
She looked around the room to make sure no one was looking at her, and then, smiling, stuck her tongue out at him in a manner which she intended to be, and which he interpreted to be, somewhere between naughty and lascivious.
When General Gehlen and Colonel Mannberg arrived ten minutes later, the conference table was already set. There was a lined pad, three pencils, and a water glass before each chair. There was a water pitcher in the center of the table, and a small canvas sack, which was stenciled all over, in bright yellow, “BURN.” In front of Cronley’s chair was a secure telephone.
Gehlen had brought former Major Konrad Bischoff with him.
Mannberg and Bischoff were in well-tailored suits and looked like successful businessmen. Cronley thought, for the umpteenth time, that Gehlen looked like an unsuccessful black marketeer.
I guess Bischoff saw Mannberg in his nice suit and figured, what the hell, if he can do it, why not me?
Claudette, who was sitting to Cronley’s side with her shorthand notebook in front of her, looked at Cronley questioningly.
“Miss Colbert, will you set a place for Major Bischoff? Konrad, this is Miss Colbert, our new administrative officer.”
Bischoff nodded at her curtly and sat down. Claudette got a lined pad, three pencils, and a water glass and set them before him.
“Before we get started, General,” Cronley said, “I know you’ve met Major Wallace, but I don’t know how much you know about him.”
“Actually, Jim,” Gehlen replied, “the three of us, Ludwig, Konrad, and I, were very much aware of the irony when Major Wallace flew into Elendsalm to accept our surrender. We’d been hoping to . . . have a chat . . . with him for years. We almost succeeded twice, once in Norway and again in Moravia. But failed. And now there he is, all smiles, coming to chat with us.”
“You didn’t mention that, General, either at Elendsalm or here,” Wallace said, smiling.
“At the time, Major, it didn’t seem to be the appropriate thing to do.”
“And here?”
“Jim never shared with me what you’re really doing here, and I thought it was best . . .”
“To let the sleeping dog lie?”
“Sleeping tiger, perhaps. We always thought you were far more dangerous than a dog.”
