Top Secret Part 12

"There's no need to apologize, General," Cronley said. "The problem as I see it is that I'm afraid we've only begun to learn how large those gaps, those many gaps, in my experience are."

"And your decision about Schrder?" Gehlen asked.

"I suggest we take him inside, give him lunch, and welcome him to Kloster Grnau."

Gehlen nodded, and then smiled.

"An expression Colonel Mattingly uses frequently seems appropriate here," he said, and then quoted, "'The true test of another man's intelligence is to what degree he agrees with you.'"

"I'm flattered, sir," Cronley said, and then raised his voice: "Corporal!"

The corporal appeared around the corner of the building a moment later, prodding Schrder ahead of him with the muzzle of his Thompson.

"Lower that muzzle, Corporal," Cronley ordered. "Herr Schrder has been declared one of the good guys."

A look of enormous relief flashed over Schrder's face.

Not that I doubted what Gehlen said about Schrder wondering if he was about to be shot, but if I needed proof, there it was on Schrder's face.

"Pa.s.s the word," Cronley continued. "And then find First Sergeant Dunwiddie and ask him if he's free for lunch."

"Yes, sir," the corporal said.

"Come with us, Schrder," Gehlen said. "And while we have lunch, I'll try to determine where you'll be most useful around here."

- "So, what we're going to do now," Dunwiddie said, as the discussion about the airplanes and Schrder and his men died down, "is send a couple of trucks-probably it would be better to send four-to Sonthofen to pick up the other airplane, the mechanics, and the parts. Right?"

Cronley made a Time out signal with his hands and announced, "I've been thinking."

"That's always dangerous," Tiny said.

"Kurt, now that you know what's going on here, what about your men?" Cronley asked.

"What Hauptman Cronley is asking, Schrder," Mannberg said, "is (a) whether you trust them to keep their mouths shut about what they might see here, and (b) whether they understand what will happen to them if they talk. We simply cannot have them talking, even to their wives."

It took Schrder a good fifteen seconds to frame his reply.

"Two of them served with me in the East," he began. "When I tell them the same security protocol we had there will apply here, they will understand. If they don't wish to subject themselves to that protocol, I won't bring them here."

"And the third man?" Mannberg asked.

"He is a brother of one of the men who was with me in the East. If he is reluctant to accept the protocol, then I will not bring either of them here."

"How long would it take you to hold this conversation, conversations, with them?" Cronley said.

"Do I understand that I am to return to Sonthofen with the trucks?"

"Answer my question, please."

"Thirty minutes or so. No longer than that."

"And how long would it take to tell them, 'Say nothing to anyone, I will return here shortly'? With confidence that they would obey that order?"

"You've lost me, Jim," Dunwiddie said.

"It would take me twice as long to say that than it did for you to say it. Because I would say it twice, to make sure they understood."

Cronley nodded, then turned to Tiny.

"What's going to happen now is that Schrder and I are going to fly back to Sonthofen. When we land, Schrder will deliver that little speech to his men. I will then get out of Storch One, and Schrder will immediately get in Storch One and fly back here. I will then get in Storch Two and fly it back here. When I land, you and Schrder and four trucks will go to Sonthofen, pick up the mechanics and the parts, and drive very slowly and carefully back here."

When he saw that everyone was considering his remarks with what appeared to be little enthusiasm, Cronley provided amplification.

"If we fly Storch Two back here, that will (a) get it out of Sonthofen immediately, (b) eliminate the risk of it getting damaged while moving it by truck, and (c) questions will not be raised by anyone about a Storch with U.S. Army markings being driven down the roads to here."

Gehlen and Mannberg nodded their understanding and acceptance. Schrder's face remained expressionless.

Tiny asked, "And I'm going with the trucks? Why?"

"Because, Marshal Earp, you have your marshal's badge with which you can dazzle anybody who wants to ask you about anything."

"Marshal Earp?" General Gehlen asked.

"He was a famous American cowboy, General," Mannberg said.

"A U.S. Marshal," Cronley corrected him. "In the Arizona Territory before it became a state. He and his brothers and a dentist named Doc Holliday were involved in-I should say won-a famous gunfight in the O.K. Corral in Tombstone."

"Actually, it wasn't in the O.K. Corral, but near it," Tiny further clarified.

Gehlen, Mannberg, and Schrder obviously had no idea what they were talking about.

"Ready to go flying, Kurt?" Cronley said.

Schrder stood.

Cronley handed him the zipper jacket Lieutenant Colonel Wilson had given him.

"Put this on," he ordered. "If we find ourselves in the hands of the MPs or anyone else asking questions, your answer is you are under orders to answer no questions without the permission of Colonel Robert Mattingly, deputy commander, Counterintelligence, European Command. Got it?"

Schrder nodded, and then repeated, as if to fix it in his memory, "Colonel Robert Mattingly, deputy commander, Counterintelligence, European Command."

"That's it," Cronley confirmed, and then turned to General Gehlen. "When I get back, I want to see our guest."

Gehlen nodded.

[ THREE ].

Kloster Grnau Schollbrunn, Bavaria American Zone of Occupation, Germany 1705 29 October 1945 The machine gun jeeps were already moving off the road when Cronley made his first pa.s.s over Kloster Grnau. He decided they had seen-or heard-the Storch approaching.

When he turned and made his approach, he saw that a small convoy-a lead machine gun jeep, the Opel Kapitn, two GMC 66 trucks, and a trailing machine gun jeep-was lined up on the road from Kloster Grnau.

Tiny's ready to go, he thought. Why not? It's a long ride to Sonthofen and back.

Only two trucks; Schrder must have told him he wouldn't need four.

And then his attention was abruptly brought back to what he was doing-flying.

He was far to the left of the runway; winds had blown him off his intended track.

Well, I guess we're going to need a windsock.

He corrected his approach and touched gently down where he had originally intended to land.

Not bad, Eddie Rickenbacker!

Especially for someone who professes to hate flying.

Who are you kidding? You love flying and really missed it.

He completed the landing roll, turned the Storch, and taxied to the convoy at the end of the runway. He saw Tiny and Schrder get out of the Kapitn.

Cronley shut down the engine and opened the window.

Schrder, smiling, made a gesture with his hand demonstrating Cronley's last-second efforts to line up with the runway.

"I was thinking we might need a windsock," Cronley said.

"I think that's a very good idea."

"On the way to Sonthofen, why don't you tell Sergeant Dunwiddie here how to make one?"

"Why don't you tell Tedworth how to make one," Dunwiddie challenged, "while Herr Schrder and I are bouncing down the b.u.mpy roads in the dark?"

"Because as an officer I am dedicated to preserving the privileges of rank," Cronley said piously.

Dunwiddie smiled and shook his head.

"Speaking of officers," he said, "Mattingly called. I didn't think you wanted him to know what you were really doing, Charles Lindbergh, so I told him you were off in a jeep somewhere, and I would have you call him when you got back. That was about an hour ago."

"Okay. Thanks. I'll call him. Have a nice ride."

I'll call him after I see the Russian NKGB agent.

He nodded and smiled at Schrder, then in a loud voice called out "Clear!" and started the engine. He taxied back down the runway to where a dozen soldiers were waiting to push the Storch off the runway and out of sight.

- Cronley found Mannberg in the officers' mess bar. He was reading Stars and Stripes, the U.S. Army newspaper, over a cup of coffee.

Cronley sat beside him and said, "When you're through with the Stripes, I'd like to see the NKGB agent."

"Of course," Mannberg replied, and laid the newspaper down.

Cronley could see that Mannberg was unhappy.

"I don't want to interfere in any way with your interrogation," Cronley said. "I just want to see him."

"May I ask why?"

"I think I should."

"Of course," Mannberg said, and stood.

As they walked out of the bar, Cronley saw the zipper jacket Lieutenant Colonel Wilson had given him. It was hanging from a peg by the door.

Schrder must've left it there-returning it to me-when he came back from Sonthofen. It still has the Liaison Pilot's wings.

To which neither of us is ent.i.tled.

Cronley took the jacket and put it on as they walked to what had once been the monastery's chapel.

At least it'll cover my captain's bars, and if I speak German, the NKGB guy will think I'm another German.

Why is that important?

Because, on the rank totem pole, a U.S. Army captain is far down from Gehlen and Mannberg.

Unless he already knows Kloster Grnau is being run by me. Which he probably does.

Which means-Tiny's people grabbed him before I returned from the States with my brand-new captain's bars-that if he does know who I am, he thinks I'm a second lieutenant, which is really at the bottom of that totem pole.

To h.e.l.l with it. My gut feeling is to wear the jacket; go with that.

- There were four of what Cronley thought of as "Tiny's Troopers," plus two of Gehlen's men, just inside the foyer of the former chapel. They were seated around a card table playing poker. Packs of cigarettes and Hershey chocolate bars were used as chips.

It was less innocent than it seemed. Cigarettes and Hershey bars were the currency of the land when dealing with the Germans, and could be used to purchase what little the Germans had to sell, including very often the s.e.xual favors of the women.

Everybody quickly rose to their feet when the senior non-com among them, a staff sergeant, barked, "Ten-hut!"

The sergeant-who was uncommonly small for a trooper, not much over five-feet-two, the Army minimum height-casually held an M-3 .30 caliber carbine in his hand. The others were holding Thompson .45 caliber submachine guns.

"At ease," Cronley said. "I'm here to investigate rumors that gambling is taking place on the premises."