“I think we have,” Gehlen said. “Wouldn’t you agree, Jim?”
Before Cronley could reply, Frade went on: “And that hasn’t changed in the last couple of days?”
“Because of Major Bischoff, you mean?”
“That’s your interrogation expert?”
“Yes.”
“Then because of what happened between Captain Cronley and your major.”
“I think, Colonel, that when I hear Captain Cronley’s version of the dispute, and weigh it against Bischoff’s, Bischoff’s far greater experience in these matters will be evident. But that certainly won’t cause me to dislike Jim.”
“You haven’t heard Cronley’s version?”
“I was going to ask him about it today.”
“Tell the general what you have been thinking, Captain Cronley,” Frade ordered.
“I offered Major Orlovsky a deal, General,” Cronley began.
“Based on his extensive experience in these matters, of course,” Frade said sarcastically. “And his very fertile imagination.”
The appearance of Sergeant Tedworth, carrying two coffee mugs and a plate of doughnuts, caused Cronley, at the last possible split second, not to say what had leapt to his lips.
Thank God!
Telling Clete to go fuck himself would have been really stupid. He couldn’t let me get away with it in front of Gehlen, and Gehlen wouldn’t like it either.
It would be one more proof for both of them that while Little Jimmy Cronley might be a nice boy, even a bright nice boy, that’s all he is, and thus any ideas he has are beneath the consideration of Frade, Gehlen, Bischoff and Company, the Wise Old Men of Kloster Grünau.
“We’re waiting, Captain Cronley,” Frade said.
Try to sound like a fellow intelligence professional. Use big words.
“When I realized that Major Bischoff’s deprivation of senses and humiliation tactics of interrogation were not working on Major Orlovsky, and actually were counterproductive—Orlovsky has resigned himself to being shot—I decided something else had to be done.
“‘What does this skilled NKGB officer want? What can I give him to get those names?’
“The answer was hope.”
“I don’t understand,” Gehlen said.
“I told him, General, that if he turned, I would move him to Argentina, and once he was there, if he gave us the names of your people that he has turned, I would get you to get his family out of Russia.”
The eyebrows on Gehlen’s normally expressionless face rose.
“I see what you mean about a fertile imagination,” he said.
“I went to see Major Orlovsky just now, General,” Frade said. “I walked into his cell, gave him a moment to wonder who I might be, and then said, ‘Well, Major, have you decided whether or not you want to go to Argentina?’”
“And?” Gehlen asked.
“What would you have expected his reaction to be, General?” Frade asked.
Gehlen considered the question for a moment before replying.