“I didn’t.”
“James, you disappoint me. You didn’t really think I would entertain the notion of this friend of yours being a substitute for the Likharevs, did you?”
“It ran through my mind.”
“Why should I think he’s of any value at all?”
“Well, he allowed us to bag two Nazis I know you’ve been looking for.”
“Who would that be, James?”
“SS-Brigadeführer Ulrich Heimstadter is one of them.”
“Never heard of him.”
“And Standartenführer Oskar Müller is the other.”
“Never heard of him, either. Why were you looking for them?”
“What we were thinking, General . . .” Frade began.
“You don’t listen very well, do you, Colonel? Either that, or you’re trying, and succeeding, to be very rude. I’ve told you my rank twice. Enough!”
“. . . is that Heimstadter and Müller plus Jimmy’s friend in Odessa certainly would be more valuable to you than Colonel Mattingly.”
“You’re a fool, Colonel!”
“Now who’s being rude, General?”
“Pay close attention to me, Colonel,” Serov said, coldly furious. “I’m not going to exchange Mattingly for Heimstadter and Müller! Have the Likharevs here on Thursday!”
“I politely suggest, General,” Frade said, “that you don’t have the authority to make a decision like that. So why don’t you ask Commissar of State Security Nikolayevich Merkulov what he thinks of my offer and let us know on Thursday?”
Serov, white-faced, glared at Frade but said nothing.
“I don’t see any point in meeting tomorrow,” Frade said. “For one thing, it will probably take Comrade Merkulov, who we both know is a little slow, longer than twenty-four hours to make up his mind, and for another, you’re not going to do anything to Colonel Mattingly without his permission. So we’ll see you here same time on Thursday.” He paused and then raised his voice. “See you on Thursday, Mattingly!”
“You will come to regret this, you arrogant sonofabitch!” Serov exploded.
He turned and marched quickly away, gesturing impatiently for the truck to start moving. The doors remained open and swung back and forth as the truck drove off.
When the truck turned right at the end of the bridge and disappeared from sight, Cronley turned and, with the others following him, walked off the br
idge.
—
“Well,” Cronley asked, when he, Frade, Mannberg, Ostrowski, and Dunwiddie were crowded into the staff car, “has anyone got anything to say except Clete really pissed off Serov?”
“How about the die has been cast?” Mannberg said.
“Pissing him off was the idea, wasn’t it?” Dunwiddie said. “And Colonel Frade really did that.”
“Well, as soon as we get back to the house, we can find out what happened at Wissembourg,” Cronley said. “I think we should all start praying.”
Frade and Ostrowski chuckled.
“That’s what I have been doing,” Mannberg said, obviously dead serious. “I think we’re at the point where we need a little help from the Almighty.”