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Smith’s face tensed, and it was a long moment before he replied.
“Frankly, Captain, my initial reaction was to deny that request. But on reflection I realized that a photograph of us with General Gehlen among us ranks pretty low on the list of highly classified material with which you are already entrusted.
“General Gehlen, if you would, please stand here with us,” General Smith went on. Then he turned to the photographer. “Corporal, the photograph you are about to take, the negatives and prints thereof, will be classified Top Secret–Presidential. You will personally develop the negative. You will then make four eight-by-ten-inch prints from the negative. You will then burn the negative. You will see that I get two of those prints, one of which I will send to Admiral Souers, and the other to General White. You will also give two prints to General Greene, who will get them to Captain Dunwiddie. You understand all that, son, or should I go over it again?”
Who the hell, Major Derwin again wondered, is Admiral Souers?
“I understand, sir.”
“And I don’t want you telling the boys in the photo lab anything about this. Clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right, gentlemen,” General Smith said, “stand tall and say, ‘Cheese.’”
Ninety seconds later, General Smith and his entourage were gone.
“Let me add my ‘welcome to the officer corps of the United States Army’ to General Smith’s, Captain Dunwiddie,” General Greene said.
“Thank you, sir.”
“And mine,” Colonel Mattingly said, without much enthusiasm.
“Thank you, sir,” Dunwiddie repeated.
“What I’m going to do now is bring Major Derwin up to speed on what’s going on around here. You’re welcome to stay for that, of course.”
“I think we can pass on that, sir,” Captain Cronley said.
“It’s always a pleasure to see you, General,” Greene said.
“Thank you,” Gehlen said.
Cronley stood to attention.
“Permission to withdraw, sir?”
“Post,” Greene said.
Cronley saluted, did an about-face movement, and started for the door. He waved General Gehlen and Captain Dunwiddie ahead of him and then followed them out of the office.
Colonel Mattingly stood up.
“If you don’t need me, sir?”
“I think it would be best if you stuck around for this, Bob,” Greene said.
“Yes, sir. Of course,” Colonel Mattingly said, and sat down.
“I suppose the best place to start, Major, is to tell you that what just transpired in here is classified. Twice. Maybe three times. First as Top Secret–Presidential. And as Top Secret–Lindbergh. And of course as simple Top Secret. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All of that also applies to what I’m going to tell you now. And the best place to start that is at the beginning.
“On December twenty-first, Lieutenant Colonel Anthony Schumann, who was the inspector general of European Command CIC, and also of the Army Security Agency, Europe—which reports to the ASA in Washington through me, I think I should tell you—went home for lunch. Moments after he arrived, as well as we can put things together, there was an explosion. Apparently, the gas water heater had leaked, filled the house with gas, and something set it off. Maybe Mrs. Schumann lit the stove. We just don’t know. There was a considerable explosion, which totally destroyed his quarters and severely damaged the houses on either side and across the street.”
“My God!” Derwin said.
