“It would appear that I have cheated death once again,” he said to Schröder.
Schröder’s expression did not change.
“May I ask where we are?” Schröder said.
“No.”
Tiny walked toward the airplane. Cronley made a slight hand signal to him, which he hoped would make Dunwiddie salute him and — more important — play the respectful role of a non-com dealing with an officer.
Dunwiddie understood. He saluted crisply and Cronley returned it.
“Two things, Sergeant,” Cronley ordered. “Have your men push the aircraft off the strip, and then have them put a tarpaulin over it. And then get someone to escort this gentleman while he’s here.”
“Yes, sir,” Dunwiddie said, and gestured for one of the jeeps to come to them.
When the jeep stopped before him, Dunwiddie pointed to the machine gunner, a corporal, and ordered: “You will escort this gentleman until you are relieved.”
“You got it, First Sergeant.”
Dunwiddie pointed to the driver.
“You go to the barracks and get enough men to push this airplane up beside the chapel. Then put a tarp over it so it’ll be hard to see from the air.”
The jeep driver, a sergeant, nodded, and the moment the corporal had tied down his Browning and jumped free of the jeep, turned it around and drove off.
“You can get out now, Herr Schröder,” Cronley said in German.
They set out for the headquarters building, Cronley and Dunwiddie walking side by side. Schröder walked behind them as the corporal, now cradling a Thompson submachine gun like a hunter’s shotgun, followed him.
As they approached the building, Cronley saw General Reinhard Gehlen and Oberst Ludwig Mannberg standing just outside. That made moot the question he had had in his mind about how he was going to get one or the other of them out of the mess in order to explain the situation.
Cronley also saw on Schröder’s face that he recognized one of them. Or both.
“Good afternoon, Herr Cronley,” Gehlen said courteously.
“I hope my arrival didn’t disturb your lunch, sir.”
“It did, but the sound of a Storch coming in here caused my curiosity to overwhelm my hunger.” He looked closely at Schröder. “We know one another, don’t we?”
Schröder snapped to rigid attention, clicked his heels, bobbed his head, and said, “Herr General, I had the honor of flying the general on many occasions. In Poland and the East, Herr General.”
“I thought you looked familiar,” Gehlen said. “Schröder, isn’t it?”
Schröder bobbed his head and clicked his heels again.
“Herr General, I am flattered that the general remembers.”
“We don’t do that here, Schröder,” Mannberg said. “The war is over and we are no longer in military service.”
“Jawohl, Herr Oberst.”
“And,” Mannberg added, drily sarcastic, “it would follow that since we are no longer in military service, neither do we have military rank.”
“Corporal, take our guest around the corner, please,” Cronley said, “while I have a word with these gentlemen.”
Schröder went around the corner of the building with the corporal three steps behind him.
Gehlen looked expectantly at Cronley to see what he wanted.
“General, how would you feel about Schröder joining us here?”
“In connection with that Storch he just flew in here, you mean?”
Cronley nodded.
“The Storch, and another one, is now ours,” he said.
“I think he could prove quite useful. But I suspect you have some doubt?”
“Yes, sir. You think he can be trusted?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Could you tell me why?”
“Because right now he’s wondering whether he’s going to be put to work, or be shot for having seen too much,” Gehlen explained.
Cronley thought there was a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
“Exactly what has he seen?”
“Mannberg and myself,” Gehlen said, more than a little condescendingly.
Cronley felt a wave of anger rise. He recognized it and waited until he felt he had it under control before he replied.
“General, keeping in mind that three days ago I was a second lieutenant, you’re going to have to have a little patience when I ask what you and Oberst Mannberg, with your far greater experience, consider to be dumb questions.”
“The general meant no disrespect, Hauptman Cronley,” Mannberg said.
“Actually, quite the opposite, Hauptman Cronley,” Gehlen said. “My problem with you is that I’ve seen — and I mean seen here, not what you did in Argentina, but that also obviously applies — what a competent intelligence officer you are, and I sometimes forget there probably are… how do I say this?… certain gaps in your professional experience.”
“My professional experience can be written inside a matchbook cover with a thick grease pencil,” Cronley said. “And the gaps in it make a hole somewhat larger than the Grand Canyon. And I think you both are fully aware of that.”
Mannberg laughed.
“Is something funny?” Cronley snapped.
“Yes,” Mannberg said. “That colorful expression of annoyance, I’m afraid, did not translate very well into German.”
“I was speaking German?” Cronley blurted.
So I didn’t have my temper firmly in hand.
“You sounded like a Strasbourger on his fourth liter of beer,” Mannberg said.
“That’s bad.”
“But you made your point,” Gehlen said, “and it was taken, Hauptman Cronley. I apologize for not understanding. You were — as you should have been — concerned that taking Schröder here might pose security problems. When I so quickly suggested I didn’t think it would be a problem, you wondered — as you should have — how quickly I had made that decision. I thought it should have been obvious to you. My mistake. One of the gaps in your experience is that you have had no experience in the East.”
By East he means Russia.
Why are these guys so reluctant to say Russia?
Gehlen met his eyes a long moment, then went on: “Let me tell you what it was like in the East when Schröder was flying me and Mannberg around at the front. It was understood that under no circumstances could we fall into the hands of the Red Army. Specifically, Schröder knew that when we took off, there was an explosive charge aboard the Storch that I would detonate, or he would, if it appeared there was any chance at all that we were going to go down behind the Red Army’s lines.
“Even after the flight, or flights, Schröder understood that it was unacceptable for him to be captured with knowledge of the location of any Abwehr Ost detachment or the like. He gave his word as an officer to die honorably by his own hand in that circumstance.”
“Jesus Christ!” Cronley said softly.
“When you brought him here, and he saw Mannberg and me, he naturally assumed the same security protocol would be in place here. And I’m sure he knows the Red Army is looking for any former member of Abwehr Ost.
“Schröder knew the moment we saw and recognized one another that he would not be allowed to leave in possession of such intelligence. I had those facts, plus my knowledge that he was a courageous and trustworthy officer — as well as a very good pilot — in mind when I made what appeared to you to be a casual decision about whether he would be useful here.”
Gehlen let that sink in a moment, and after Cronley nodded, went on: “My mistake, Hauptman Cronley, was to forget about those gaps in your experience, and again, for that I apologize.”
“There’s no need to apologize, General,” Cronley said. “The problem as I see it is that I’m afraid we’ve only begun to learn how large those gaps, those many gaps, in my experience are.”