Pilot of SAA flight 777 eta Rhine main 1700 local 26 Jan has photos you requested of daddy showing wife and kiddies buenos aires cultural attractions.
Polo
End
Top Secret Lindbergh
Cronley handed it to Janice.
“What am I looking at?” she asked.
“This changes our schedule,” he said. “I think we should have these pictures before we go see Lazarus.”
“Who the hell is Lazarus?” Augie asked.
“You should have paid attention in Bible class, Augie,” Cronley replied. “If you had
, you would know that Lazarus is the guy Christ raised from the dead. Religiously speaking . . .”
“Or blasphemously,” Tiny said.
“. . . the guy Dette popped and we reported as dead has probably decided he’s in purgatory, which, Augie, my heathen pal, is the place between heaven and hell. He expects that he will soon be on his way to hell, with his mortal remains buried in an unmarked grave in Kloster Grünau. I will show him his other option by showing him photographs of former NKGB Polkóvnik Sergei Likharev and his wife and children in heaven. In other words, Buenos Aires. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if ol’ Sergei and his family are shown saying ‘cheese’ before the Colón Opera House. Which Lazarus, the Russians being big on opera, will recognize. He then has the choice between going to heaven or to the unmarked grave I mentioned.”
Both Ziegler and Hammersmith wondered: Is he actually thinking of shooting this guy?
“So the first thing we have to do is get Janice and her driver to Pfungstadt.”
“That driver is going to be a problem,” Tiny said. “You said you want a German speaker. Unless schlafzimmer Deutsche counts, my guys don’t.”
“We need somebody who speaks German and knows what to listen for,” Cronley said.
“I got a guy,” Ziegler said.
Cronley motioned for him to continue.
“He speaks Pennsylvania Dutch, which is really Hessian German.”
“Another Pennsylvania Dutchman?” Hessinger asked.
Ziegler nodded. “He’s an MP PFC. Seventeen years old.”
“Wonderful!” Cronley said.
“I was in the PX snack bar when I heard someone cussing in Dutch. He had spilled his Coke and hot dog in his lap. So I talked to him. He’s from Kunsterville in Bucks County. He finished high school in June, joined the Army to get the GI Bill. They ran him through six weeks of basic training and sent him over here. The 403rd MPs had him working as a translator.”
“You said you had a guy,” Cronley said.
“I decided I needed a translator more than the 403rd did.”
“And he was a fellow Dutchman,” Cronley said. “You’re not seriously proposing we send this kid to snoop around Odessa?”
“His ambition in life is to be a CID agent. And he’s smart.”
Cronley sighed audibly.
“Jim,” Hammersmith said, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but why not? Ziegler says he’s smart, he speaks the language, and who’s going to suspect a seventeen-year-old PFC of being anything but a seventeen-year-old PFC? All he’s going to have to do is hang around the Stars and Stripes motor pool and keep his eyes and ears open.”
“Oh, shit,” Cronley said. “Well, let’s get him over here and have a look at him.”