Cronley considered that a moment.
“I’m tempted to have you share that, or go hear it from him, but it can wait until morning. Augie can tell me when he reports how he’s coming with the funerals, or reburials, whatever the hell it is.”
“Ziegler,” Bristol said, “came to me early this morning to ask if I could put him onto a stone cutter for the tombstones. I did.” Bristol then added, “He had a photographer with him.”
“Good,” Cronley said. “To prove to Comrade Serov that I’m a fellow Christian obeying his orders, I want to give him pictures of everything connected with reburying those bastards.”
“Major Wallace is taking Kurt and me to the Gloria Palast,” Gehlen said. “They’re showing Gilda with Rita Hayworth and Glenn Ford.”
Wallace is taking Gehlen and Schröder to a Rita Hayworth movie?
Gehlen doesn’t seem in a hurry to discuss how to get Mattingly back . . .
“And Tom and I are going to meet our wives there,” Bristol said. “At seven-thirty. Which means we’re going to have to leave now. You want to come, Janice? Jim?”
“I saw it in Frankfurt,” Janice said.
“And I’m so tired I’d fall asleep in five minutes,” Cronley said. “But thanks.”
“Does that mean we can go back in the bar?” Janice asked.
“Janice, I love you, but if I went back to the bar and had another drink, you’d have to carry me to my room.”
“I don’t think I could carry you, but I’m sure we can get a wheelchair somewhere.”
Gehlen, Schröder, Wallace, Winters, and Bristol chuckled and smiled as they rose from the table.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Jim,” Gehlen said. “Get a good night’s rest.”
Does he know Janice isn’t kidding?
Do any of them?
[ SIX ]
Suite 507
Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten
Maximilianstrasse 178
Munich, American Zone of Occupation, Germany
0830 1 February 1946
PFC Karl-Christoph Wagner was wearing ODs bearing the blue triangles identifying civilian employees of the Army when he and Augie Ziegler walked into the office.
Cronley’s mouth went on automatic: “Where’d you get the triangles, Wagner?”
Wagner’s face reddened.
“My idea,” Ziegler said. “We went to the NCO club last night. Neither of us belonged there. We stood out like—”
“Ladies of the evening in church?” Janice asked.
“Something like that. And since I think we should move him in here, I think we better get him CIC credentials.”
Ziegler read Cronley’s face.