They’re kindred souls . . . what else could it be?
“What the hell is that?” Cronley asked for the third time.
Gehlen looked at Frade, who nodded his permission.
“Jim, it’s a list of the Nazis who SS-Oberst Niedermeyer thinks would cause us the greatest embarrassment if the Russians could prove they’re here at Kloster Grünau. And a list of my people, some of them here, some in Argentina, who Niedermeyer suspects have already been turned or, in his judgment, are likely to turn if properly approached.”
“What are you going to do about them? The people who have been turned?” Cronley asked.
Gehlen acted as if he had not heard the question.
“I think we’re in agreement that we’re going to have to move all of the people who can embarrass us out of Kloster Grünau as quickly as that can be done,” Gehlen said.
“Mattingly suggested there may be a passport problem,” Frade said. But it was a question.
“Our friends in Rome are very cautious,” Gehlen said. “Perhaps that’s why they have been so successful for so long. In this connection, they dole out passports very sparingly, never more than a dozen at a time.”
“Mattingly told me that. But you have a dozen blanks?”
Gehlen nodded. “But they won’t give us any more until our Jesuit friend in Buenos Aires reports to them that the travelers have passed through Argentine immigration and disappeared. After handing him their Vatican passports, which he has destroyed. I understand their concern, of course—this way no more than a dozen passports are ever at risk of coming to light at one time—but it causes problems.”
“There will be an SAA Constellation here on Saturday,” Frade said. “It will refuel in Frankfurt before flying to Berlin, and will refuel again in Frankfurt on the return trip. That will be on Sunday or Monday. Can you select the dozen people who pose the greatest embarrassment and have their passports ready in that timeframe, so we can load them on the Connie when it refuels in Frankfurt?”
“Two hours after I give the names to Oberst Mannberg, the passports will be ready.”
“Mattingly has done all this before, and his system seems to work,” Frade said. “When I see him in Munich tonight I’ll tell him there are no problems about this.”
“Does he know about Otto’s list?”
“I’ll tell him about it tonight—there was no opportunity at that Schlosshotel.”
“Can I ask what you want me to do,” Cronley said, “or what you’re going to do about the people Colonel Niedermeyer thinks may have been turned?”
When he saw the looks on both men’s faces he knew he had asked a question that he should not have asked. Confirmation came immediately.
“Did you say something, Captain Cronley?” Frade asked.
“It wasn’t important, sir.”
The moment Gehlen has proof that any of his people have been turned, that’s the end of them. I should have known that.
Cletus knows that, and has decided it’s Gehlen’s problem, and Gehlen should deal with it.
But he seems to agree that Orlovsky is our problem, and that our solution should not be turning him over to Gehlen to be shot.
Why? Because he’s a Russian?
And we captured him?
And what would have happened if Orlovsky hadn’t broken down when Clete saw him?
Would Clete have then told me what Mattingly did—“Mind your own fucking business”?
A minute ago, Clete said, “I’m willing to do whatever is necessary to protect Operation Ost.” That would obviously include killing Orlovsky.
Those who suggest I’m naïve or stupid or both are right on the money.
“As I was saying before we got into our theological discussion . . .” Frade began.