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“Ken, get General Whatsisname, the Nuremberg Military Post commander, on the phone.”
“General Kegley, sir,” Brewster said, as he walked to the telephone on Jackson’s desk. “Major General George Kegley Junior.”
He then dialed a number.
“Chief Prosecutor Jackson for General Kegley, please,” Brewster said into the phone, paused, and then added, “One moment, please, General, for Mr.
Justice Jackson.”
Jackson took the phone.
“Good morning, General . . .
“Very well, thank you. Yourself? . . .
“Well, aren’t we all getting a little long in the tooth? . . .
“The reason I’m calling, General, is that I have a little problem. This is out of school, you understand. What’s happened is that President Truman has decided that Judge Biddle and I need the DCI to keep us safe—
“The Directorate of Central Intelligence. What used to be the OSS. It’s run by Admiral Souers, an old friend. Anyway, when the President speaks, as you can imagine, things happen rapidly. Mr. Cronley, the DCI man in charge, arrived the day before yesterday, and today all of his people arrived . . .
“Neither Judge Biddle nor I got a heads-up. Did you? . . .
“I didn’t think so. The problem is they need a place to stay. A secure place, preferably in, or very near to, the Tribunal, and they need it right now. There’s about twenty people in all . . .
“Well, what I was thinking, General, was that I would send one of Mr. Cronley’s people over to see you and tell you what they need, and then prevail upon you to have a discreet word with the Post housing officer . . .
“That’s very good of you, General. Thank you very much—
“When? Right now, if that would be convenient . . .
“I very much appreciate your understanding, General. My regards to Mrs. Kegley.”
Jackson hung up the phone.
“Within the next three hours,” he said, “every senior officer in Nuremberg will be told, in the strictest confidence, that President Truman has sent the DCI to protect Judge Biddle and myself from the evil minions of the Kremlin. And after General Kegley has a word with the Post housing officer, you and your noble warriors will have a place to rest your weary heads.”
“Thank you,” Cronley said. “Thank you very much.”
“How could I do less, Super Spook, for a man who’s trying to keep me alive? I presume you are going to send Captain Dunwiddie to see General Kegley?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ken, would you take Captain Dinwiddie to see the general?”
V
[ONE]
The Press Club Bar
Farber Palast
Stein, near Nuremberg
American Zone of Occupation, Germany
1725 21 February 1946
