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V
[ ONE ]
Suite 507
Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten
Maximilianstrasse 178
Munich, American Zone of Occupation, Germany
1920 25 January 1946
When Captain James D. Cronley Jr. and Miss Claudette Colbert walked into the office—the former holding the foil-wrapped necks of two bottles of Crémant d’Alsace, the latter carrying the heavy leather briefcase stuffed with the Odessa material—they found several people waiting for them.
“The man at the Compound airstrip told me you landed at seventeen hundred,” Lieutenant Colonel George H. Parsons—the assistant chief of staff, G-2, the War Department’s senior liaison officer to the Directorate of Central Intelligence–Europe—greeted Cronley.
It came out as an accusation, and Cronley’s temper flared and his mouth went on automatic.
“Mr. Hessinger,” he said, “find out who told Colonel Parsons that, and tell him the next time he tells anyone but you or Miss Colbert when and where I land anywhere, I will be very distressed and will deal with him accordingly.”
Hessinger said, “Yes, sir.”
He thought, Scheiss! He’s about to get into it with Parsons!
Major Warren W. Ashley, who was Colonel Parsons’s deputy, said, not very pleasantly, “The colonel needs to talk to you concerning an important matter, Captain!”
Cronley turned to Claudette and extended the bottles to her.
“Miss Colbert, will you put these in the refrigerator, please, while I see what’s on Colonel Parsons’s mind?”
Claudette said, “Yes, sir.”
She thought, Oh, Jimmy, watch your mouth!
“We have been waiting for you since seventeen-thirty,” Colonel Parsons said. “No one seemed to know where you were.”
“Colonel, with all due respect,” Cronley said, his tone short, “I don’t see how you can fault me for not being where and when you expect me to be if I don’t know where and when you expect me to be.”
CIC Supervisory Special Agent John D. Hammersmith thought: You arrogant little sonofabitch! That’s a lieutenant colonel you’re talking to!
CID Supervisory Special Agent August Ziegler thought: Five to one this light bird is going to stand him tall and eat his ass out!
Then what’s Cronley going to do?
And what the hell has he been up to for two hours with Claudette and that champagne?
“I think it might be a good idea to set up a protocol, Captain Cronley,” Colonel Parsons said, “so that I can contact you in an emergency.”
“Hessinger,” Cronley snapped, “did Colonel Parsons tell you he wanted to see me about an emergency?”
Before Hessinger could reply, Parsons said, “Actually, this isn’t an emergency.”
“Oh,” Cronley said. “Colonel, about an emergency protocol to contact me: There is one. If you had told Mr. Hessinger you wanted to see me on an emergency basis, he would have put it into play.”
“And what would have happened had he done so?” Major Ashley demanded sarcastically.
Cronley looked as if he was about to say something and then changed his mind.
