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“This place is white-hot with the anticipation of the Husky Op,” Fine said, his tone matter-of-fact. “There’re spies here from every Allied power. Then we’ve got the Communists, the Fascists—and of course the Nazi spies, who no doubt are putting two and two together. It would surprise me not one bit if the pope himself came walking through town….”
Canidy, deep in thought, gazed out across the water.
“So they just might be expecting someone like me slipping into Sicily….”
Fine nodded solemnly.
“Yes, unfortunately the odds are good that they would.”
“The boss must understand that.”
They were silent a moment.
“Wait,” Canidy said again. “I do need something else from you. When I get ashore, I’d like to set some things to blow in case I need a diversion or two. So, some Composition C-2?”
“Not a problem.”
“Okay, then. That’s it.”
“Good. Let me make a call, then we’ll get some dinner.”
[ FIVE ]
1010 East Eighty-third Street
New York City, New York
0135 8 March 1943
Eric Fulmar followed Ingrid Müller out the door of Wagner’s Restaurant and Market. As they walked west, there was an awkward silence, which Fulmar desperately wanted to break while consciously avoiding the mentioning in public of anything about the German-American Bund.
“So,” he said finally, “have you seen any good movies lately?”
“Not really. You?”
“Heaven Can Wait was pretty funny.”
“Heaven Can Wait simply made me sick.”
Fulmar looked at her.
“Why?” he said, incredulous. “I thought it was hilarious. And very romantic.”
She looked at him.
“I auditioned for the lead role.”
“Oh. Sorry I mentioned it.”
They did not speak again till after they were across Park Avenue.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Ingrid said, switching her clutch between hands. “Gene Tierney did a marvelous job as Martha Strable. She’s a doll. I do love her.” She paused. “But I really wanted that part—needed that part.”
“What happened?”
“It’s what I told you earlier—it’s what didn’t happen.”
Fulmar gave that some thought.
