“There was a misunderstanding,” Cronley said.
“About which the less said, the better,” Mattingly said.
“My lips are sealed,” she said, letting loose of Cronley’s hand so that she could cover her mouth with it.
“Is Colonel Schumann here?” Mattingly asked. “And what’s going on here?”
“He arranged to be in Vienna so he wouldn’t have to be here,” she said, and then pointed toward the entrance to the main dining room.
Cronley followed her gesture. He saw a brigadier general walking toward them. And then read a sign mounted on a tripod:
CIC/ASA WELCOME TO EUCOM LUNCHEON
MAIN DINING ROOM
1200 30 OCTOBER 1945
“Shit,” Colonel Mattingly said under his breath, and then he said, “Good afternoon, General.”
“Rachel,” the general said, “may I say how lovely you look?”
And how very sad, Cronley thought. I wonder what that’s about?
And who’s the general?
“Colonel,” the general said, “I’m more than a little surprised to see you here.”
“Truth to tell, sir, I forgot about the luncheon. I’m here on other business.”
“Really?”
The general put out his hand to Cronley.
“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m General Greene.”
“General, this is Captain Cronley,” Mattingly said.
“I thought it might be. I’ve heard a good deal about you, Captain.”
“How do you do, sir?”
A captain wearing the aiguillette and lapel insignia of an aide-de-camp walked up to them.
“I think, Jack,” General Greene said, “that you know everybody but Captain Cronley.”
“Yes, sir,” the captain said. “Ma’am, Colonel.” He put out his hand to Cronley and said “Captain” as he examined him very carefully.
“Colonel Mattingly has brought Captain Cronley as his newly arrived,” General Greene said. “So, what you’re going to have to do, Jack, is rearrange the head table so there’s a place for them.”
“General,” Mattingly said, “as I said, Captain Cronley and I are here on business—”
“So you said,” Greene interrupted. “But you have to eat, and if you eat with us, all the newly arrived will get to see the deputy commander of EUCOM CIC sitting right up there beside the president of the CIC Officers’ Ladies Club at the head table, won’t they?”
“Yes, sir,” Mattingly said.
This general is sticking it to Mattingly.
Ordinarily, I’d be delighted, but Mattingly is already pissed at me, and this is likely to make that worse.
“And we wouldn’t want to deny the newly arrived that, would we?” Greene went on. “So, Jack, you rearrange the head table while Mrs. Schumann, Colonel Mattingly, Captain Cronley, and I slip into the bar for a little liquid courage. When everything’s set up, you come fetch us, and we’ll make our triumphant entry.”
“Yes, sir,” the aide-de-camp said.
“How may I serve the general?” the German bartender asked, in British-accented English.
“Well, since Colonel Mattingly has so graciously asked us to join him for a little nip, I’ll have a taste of your best scotch, straight, water on the side. Better make it a double.”
This Greene is really sticking it to Mattingly. And enjoying it.
“Yes, sir. And you, madam?”
“I’ll have a martini, please,” Mrs. Schumann said.
“As before, madam? Vodka, no vegetables?”
A vodka martini, no vegetables? “As before”?
Lady, you don’t look like somebody who drinks vodka martinis, no vegetables, before lunch.
“Precisely.” She smiled.
“Colonel?”
“Scotch, please,” Mattingly said.
“Sir?” he asked Cronley.
“Jack Daniel’s, please. On the rocks.”
Their drinks were quickly served.
“I’d like to offer a toast,” General Greene said. “To our happy little CIC community.”
“Not to forget the ASA,” Mrs. Schumann added, as she raised her glass.
“To our happy little CIC and ASA community,” Mattingly toasted with no visible enthusiasm.
Yeah, the ASA, Cronley thought as they all sipped drinks.
Kloster Grünau and that station in Berlin are connected to the Vint Hill Farms ASA station in Virginia. Certainly the ASA here must also be connected. Does that mean then that the ASA here can read our encrypted traffic?
More important, why hasn’t Mattingly told me whether or not they can?
Which leads me to wonder what else I should know he hasn’t told me.
Mrs. Schumann’s leg brushed against his, and he quickly moved his out of her way.
“Can I ask what this luncheon is about?” Cronley asked.
“The CIC/ASA Officers’ Ladies Club…” Mrs. Schumann began, turning to him on her swiveling bar stool. Cronley was standing, so when she swiveled toward him, her knee grazed his crotch.
“Of which Rachel, Mrs. Schumann, is the very capable president,” General Greene furnished.
“… has a ‘Welcome Newly Arrived’ luncheon every month…” she went on.
Cronley pulled back his crotch, which caused her knee to move off his crotch as far as the inside of his left knee, against which it now lightly pressed.
That has to be innocent.
The bartender saying “as before” may mean this is her second martini — or her fourth.
She’s a little plastered — that would go along with those sad eyes — and doesn’t realize what she’s doing.
“… to which all newly arrived CIC and ASA personnel,” Mrs. Schumann continued, “and their dependents are invited. The idea is to welcome them, let them meet General Greene and Major McClung — he runs ASA EUCOM — and tell them what they can expect during their tour of duty in the Army of Occupation.”
She took a sip of her martini, then turned and set the glass on the bar. Her knee moved off his.
“You didn’t come to yours, Cronley?” General Greene asked.
“No, sir. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
What actually happened, General, was that when I joined the happy little EUCOM CIC community, the XXIInd CIC Detachment in Marburg, the executive officer thereof, Major John Connell, welcomed me by inquiring of my qualifications to be a CIC agent, and then said, “Well, we’ll find something for you to do where you can cause only minimal damage.”
“Well, pay attention when we get in there. It’s never too late to learn, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, sir.”
General Greene’s aide-de-camp appeared moments later to announce, “They’re ready for you, Mrs. Schumann, and the colonel, sir. The captain?”
“Show Cronley where he’s to sit at the head table.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cronley examined his drink, took another sip, then put the still-half-full glass on the bar. Mrs. Schumann put her martini glass on the bar, but only after drinking it dry. She then steadied herself to get off her bar stool by holding on to Cronley’s arm.
[FOUR]
General Greene’s aide installed Cronley in a chair near the center of the head table. He sat alone. Everybody else in the dining room was lining up across the room passing through the reception line. There were a dozen people in it, lined up apparently by rank. The first three people were Mrs. Schumann, General Greene, and Colonel Mattingly. Next was a large mustachioed major wearing the crossed semaphore flags insignia of the Signal Corps. Cronley decided he was probably Major McClung of the Army Security Agency.