“I hardly know where to begin,” Frade said. “There’s a number of them. Perhaps the greatest of them is that if I went to Admiral Souers with this—you know he’s the ultimate authority?”
Gehlen nodded.
“I don’t think he’d give me permission to do it. So far, he doesn’t even know we have Orlovsky. It almost came out at dinner last night, but the conversation went off at a tangent when Colonel Schumann regaled everyone with his descriptions of Sergeant Dunwiddie and his ferocious fellows, and the subject of NKGB penetration of Kloster Grünau got lost. Fortunately.”
“I’m surprised Colonel Mattingly didn’t bring Orlovsky to everyone’s attention,” Gehlen said. It was a question as well as a statement.
“So was I,” Frade said. “I’m guessing he wanted to dump the problem in my lap. He would have preferred to hang Jimmy out to dry, but right now Admiral Souers—and for that matter, the President—think Cronley can walk on water. So that would be risky.”
“Do you think you could go to Admiral Souers and argue the merits of taking Orlovsky to Argentina?”
“No, I don’t,” Frade said simply. “He would decide the risk to what I’ve got going in Argentina would be too great. And he’d probably be right. Which means that we’re going to have to keep both Mattingly and the admiral in the dark about this operation.”
“One, you’re willing to do that? Two, can you do that? And, three, if you can do it, for how long?”
“I’m willing to do whatever is necessary to protect Operation Ost. As far as keeping how I do that from the admiral and Mattingly, all I can do is hope that when they finally find out—and they will—it will be a done deal.
“Now, for obvious reasons, we can’t just add Orlovsky to our family of refugees in Argentina . . .”
“Obvious reasons?” Gehlen asked.
“Before this in
teresting development came up, General, I was going to come see you with this”—he took an envelope from his tunic and handed it to Gehlen—“with the compliments of Oberst Otto Niedermeyer.”
“I’ve been expecting this,” Gehlen said.
“What is it?” Cronley asked.
“Why do I suspect, General Gehlen,” Frade asked, smiling, “that you and Oberst Niedermeyer have a communications link I’m not supposed to know about?”
Gehlen smiled back. “Because you have a naturally suspicious mind. Which is very useful in our line of endeavor.”
“What is that?” Cronley asked again.
And was ignored again.
“And,” Gehlen went on, “possibly because Otto tells me that, for an Anglican, you have an unusually close relationship with a certain Jesuit priest and he told you.”
Frade laughed. “No comment.”
“You’re wondering why Otto sent this with you, rather than using this communications link you suspect us of having?”
“Yeah.”
“Because if he used—what should I say?—the Vatican channel, not only that Jesuit but others would have read it. There are some things we prefer not to share with Holy Mother Church.”
“Shame on you,” Frade said.
Gehlen and Frade were smiling at each other.
Gehlen has smiled more in this room in the last twenty minutes than in all the time I’ve known him.
And cracked jokes.
They just met and they’re already buddies.
Even if Niedermeyer got word to Gehlen that he thinks Clete is a good guy, that wouldn’t have made them pals.