“It may not have started out that way, but yeah, I think — I damned well know—that’s what he’s doing. He considers you and me expendable, Tiny.”
“Operation Ost is really important, Jim.”
“So important that Mattingly is perfectly willing to throw you and me to the hungry lions to keep it going. That’s the point. But I’m not willing to be fed to the lions.”
“You realize the spot you’re putting me in?”
“Are you going to obey the direct order I gave you?”
“You heard me say ‘Yes, sir.’”
“Then you’re off the spot. I just moved onto it.”
Dunwiddie threw up his hands in resignation.
“Let’s go get some breakfast,” Cronley said.
[TWO]
“Eschborn, Seven-Oh-Seven understands Number Two to land on Niner-zero behind the C-47,” Cronley said into the microphone.
He looked at his wristwatch and saw that he was ten minutes early.
A minute later, he saw that Colonel Robert Mattingly was also ten minutes early; he was leaning against the front fender of his Horch, which was parked next to what had to be Base Operations.
Did he come early to be a nice guy?
Or has Gehlen called him and complained about my behavior — and he can’t wait to put me in my place?
A minute after that, the Storch was on the ground. A Follow me jeep led it to the visitors’ tarmac in front of Base Operations.
As he was shutting down the Storch, Mattingly walked up to the airplane and waited for him to climb down from it.
He smiled and offered his hand.
“Right on time, Jim. Ready to go?”
I guess Gehlen did not complain.
“Sir, I have to see about getting it fueled, and I want to check the weather.” He pointed to the Base Operations building. “It won’t take a minute.”
“Fine,” Mattingly said with a smile, but Cronley sensed he was annoyed.
There were two signs over the Flight Briefing Room. One read FLIGHT PLANNING/WEATHER. The other read PILOTS ONLY.
Mattingly nevertheless followed Cronley into the room.
Why not? Full bull colonels get to go just about anyplace they want to.
Cronley studied the weather map, and then caught the eye of an Air Force sergeant.
“It doesn’t look good for the south this afternoon, does it?”
“Not good unless you’re a penguin. Penguins don’t fly.”
“When do you think that front will move through southern Bavaria?”
“Very late this afternoon.”
“You think it will be clear in the morning?”
“Probably.”
“Who do I have to see to get fuel?”
“Me,” the sergeant said, and produced a clipboard with a form on it. “Name, organization, type of aircraft, tail number, and fuel designation. And signature.”
Cronley filled in the blanks and the sergeant examined the form.
“Twenty-third CIC, huh?” the sergeant said, pronouncing it “Ex Ex Eye Eye Eye See Eye See.”
“Guilty,” Cronley said.
“And what the hell is a Fieseler Storch?”
Cronley pointed out the window.
“Funny-looking,” the sergeant opined.
“It flies that way, too.”
“Kraut?”
“Not anymore.”
“I’ll have your tanks topped off in half an hour.”
“No rush. I’m not going to fly into that weather. I’ll try to get out in the morning. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Cronley looked at Colonel Mattingly and gestured toward the door.
When they were out of the building, Mattingly said, “I gather you have to spend the night?”
“Yes, sir. There’s a front moving across Bavaria that I don’t think I should fly into.”
“I defer, of course, to your airman’s judgment. But what I had in mind was that I don’t like leaving that airplane here overnight. Questions might be asked.”
“What would you like me to do, sir?”
“Well, if you can’t control something, don’t worry about it. You might wish to write that down.”
He saw Cronley smile. “Did I say something funny, Captain?”
“No, sir. But that’s a paraphrase of what Major Orlovsky said to me. He quoted a Roman poet named Ovid. ‘Happy is the man who has given up worrying.’ Something like that.”
“You’ve been discussing Roman poets with an NKGB officer?” Mattingly asked incredulously.
“It came out during my interrogation of him, sir.”
“Your interrogation of him?” Mattingly asked even more incredulously.
“Yes, sir.”
They were now at the Horch.
“Get in,” Mattingly ordered.
“Sir, where am I going to stay tonight?”
When Mattingly didn’t immediately reply, Cronley said, “I’ve got an overnight bag in the plane. Should I get it now?”
“Get your bag,” Mattingly ordered.
Immediately after they had left the airfield, Mattingly explained what was going to happen.
“We’re going to the Schlosshotel, which is now a field grade officers’ facility. We’re going to get you a room. After lunch, we will have our little chat in the privacy of that room. Following that, I will go back to my office, and you will stay in the room, leaving it only for supper and breakfast. You will not, in other words, take advantage of the golf club, nor whoop it up tonight in the bar. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I will arrange for a car to take you from the hotel to the airport after you’ve had your breakfast.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The fewer people who see you in the hotel, the better. Questions would be asked. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
[THREE]
Mattingly and Cronley had taken perhaps ten steps into the lobby when they were intercepted by an attractive American woman. Cronley noted that she had a shapely figure, a full head of black hair, and appeared to be in her early thirties.
“Well, I didn’t expect to see you here, Colonel,” she said. “But you’re very welcome!”
“Mrs. Schumann,” Mattingly said, turning on the charm. “What an unexpected pleasure.”
“And have you brought us a newly arrived?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, he’s wearing the triangles,” she said. “And he doesn’t look old enough to be a major. And he’s with you. So I have leapt to the conclusion that he’s one of us.”
“Mrs. Schumann, this is Special Agent Cronley.”
She offered Cronley her hand. He took it. She didn’t let go.
“I’ve so wanted to meet you,” she said.
“Excuse me?” Cronley said.
“You are the young man who shot the engine out of my husband’s car, right?”
“He told you about that?” Mattingly blurted.
“Well, Tony is pretty sure I’m neither a Nazi nor a member of the NKGB, and we are married. So why not?”
Mattingly gathered his thoughts.
“Well, are you or aren’t you?” she pursued, still hanging on to his hand and looking into Cronley’s eyes.
He thought she had very sad eyes, not consistent with her bubbly personality.