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“What do we hear from Seven-K?” Cronley asked.
“We have communication scheduled for noon,” Mannberg said. It was the first time he opened his mouth. “We may get a schedule then.”
“Then there’s time for Winters to take Schröder on a tour of the border,” Cronley said. “I think that’s important. I saw a lot I didn’t see in the photos.”
“As you may have noticed, Tom,” Wilson said, “Captain Cronley has a tendency to volunteer people for things they’d really rather not do. Are you comfortable with what’s happening? Are you sure you want to get involved in something like this?”
“Sir, something like this is obviously more important than dropping bags of flour on M-8 armored cars, which is what I’ve been doing here.”
“Tom, you wouldn’t be here now if I hadn’t asked you to make the first tour of the border, the one with a photographer in the backseat. Then Cronley, who is clever at that sort of thing, and knew about that mission, figured out that it was you who flew it, and then cleverly convinced you that flying the border again with him in the backseat was something I would approve, so you flew it. Correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That being the case, I feel that I should say this: Intelligence, and especially black operations like this one, are indeed more exciting and important than dropping flour bags on M-8 armored cars. But there’s a downside for someone like you. You’re a West Pointer, a professional soldier, the son of a general officer. You know there is little love between intelligence types and . . . the Army Establishment. If you go with Cronley, you will almost certainly be kissing your career goodbye. And any chance of pinning stars on your own epaulets one day. And if your father were here, I know he’d agree with me.”
“Sir, I got the impression I didn’t have any choice in the matter.”
“Well, I’m going to give you that choice. Now, and think your answer over carefully before you reply. Let me add there’s no need for you to fly the mission Captain Cronley suggests. He can fly Schröder down the border as well as you can. Here’s the question: Would you like to just walk out of here and go back to your duties with the Eleventh Constabulary and forget anything like this ever happened? Colonel Fishburn doesn’t know you flew this
unauthorized mission, and I can see no reason that he should ever learn about it. Think it over carefully.”
You sonofabitch! Cronley thought, as his mouth went on automatic.
“I’ve got something to say,” he said.
“No, you don’t, Captain Cronley,” Wilson snapped. “This is between Lieutenant Winters and myself.”
“No, Billy, it isn’t,” Wallace said. “Cronley’s involved. Let’s hear what he has to say.”
“It’s none of Cronley’s goddamn business!”
“I disagree,” Wallace said. “Go ahead, Jim.”
I don’t have a goddamn clue what to say, Cronley thought, and then his mouth went on automatic again:
“The first thing I thought when I heard Colonel Wilson just now was that I wished he would keep his nose out of my business,” Cronley said. “Then, I thought, well, he’s actually a nice guy. Colonel Wallace—”
“Oops!” Wallace interrupted. “Another cow out of the barn. Watch yourself, Jim.”
“—has made that clear, and I know it from personal experience.”
“Why don’t you tell him to keep his nose out of my business?” Wilson asked.
“Pray continue, Captain Cronley,” Wallace said.
“And then I remembered another time Colonel Wilson had wisely counseled a junior officer. The day I met him. He knew that I had been promoted to captain from second lieutenant before I had enough time in grade to be a first lieutenant, and he was kind enough . . . as the youngest lieutenant colonel in the army . . . to explain to me what he believed that meant.
“I remember what he said. Word for word. I’ve thought of it a thousand times since then. And I even quoted it, and the source, when Captain Dunwiddie—another professional soldier like you, Tom—was uncomfortable with the direct commission as a captain I asked the admiral to arrange for him.”
“How long do I have to listen to this?” Lieutenant Colonel Wilson protested.
“For however long it takes him to make his point. Put a cork in it, Billy.”
“Quote,” Cronley said, “‘The advantages of getting rank, et cetera, means that you can do things for the good of the service that otherwise you could not do. And that’s what we professional soldiers are supposed to do, isn’t it? Make contributions to the good of the service?’ End quote.
“What I’m suggesting, Tom,” Cronley said, “is that you base your decision, as a professional soldier, on where you can make the greater contribution to the good of the service.”
After a moment, Wallace said, “Colonel Wilson, in the opinion of the senior officer present, Captain Cronley has just nailed your scrotum to the wall.”
