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“Very well,” Gehlen said. “I would have said, ‘Jim, we’ve heard again from Seven-K.’”
“Aha!” Ashton said. “We’ve already turned up something I know nothing about. What is Seven-K?”
“It’s a her,” Cronley said. “A/K/A Rahil.”
“And who is Seven-K A/K/A Rahil?”
“An old acquaintance of the general’s and Ludwig’s,” Cronley said, smiling at Gehlen.
Ashton picked up on the smile and, literally visibly, began to suspect that his leg was being pulled.
“Tell me about the lady,” Ashton said.
“Tell you what about her?”
“Why was she sending you a message?”
“She wants fifty thousand dollars,” Gehlen said. “Another fifty thousand dollars.” He paused, and then, anticipating Ashton’s next question, added: “She’d probably say for expenses.”
“You’ve already given this woman fifty thousand dollars? For what?”
“Expenses,” Cronley said, smiling.
“What’s so goddamn funny?”
“Funny?”
“You’re smiling.”
“With pleasure, because your idea seems to be working so well,” Cronley said.
“I told you to tell me about this woman.”
“Well, for one thing, she’s Jewish,” Cronley said.
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“You ever heard of the Mossad?”
“This woman is Mossad? A Mossad agent?”
“And also a Podpolkóvnik of the NKGB,” Gehlen said.
“A what?” Ashton asked.
“More probably, General, by now a Polkóvnik,” Mannberg said. “Tha
t massive wave of promotions right after the war?”
“You’re probably right, Ludwig,” Gehlen said, and then, to Ashton, added: “The NKGB jokes that one either gets promoted or eliminated.”
“What’s that you said, General, ‘Pod-pol’ something?” Ashton asked.
“A Podpolkóvnik is a lieutenant colonel,” Gehlen explained. “And a Polkóvnik a colonel.”
Ashton, visibly, thought something over and then made a decision.
“Okay,” he said. “I find it hard to believe that you’re pulling my leg. On the other hand, with Cronley anything is possible. If you have been pulling my chain, the joke’s over. Enough.”
