“Probably take her to the Pullach compound. She wants to see how the Engineers are coming with the service club.”
“A lieutenant and three sergeants from the ASA in Frankfurt were on the Blue Danube last night. Major McClung sent them to install a Collins radio and a SIGABA in the compound. The lieutenant wanted to know where you wanted him to put it. I told him you would let him know.”
“Where did McClung get a SIGABA and a Collins?”
“I guess Colonel Frade brought them with him from Washington.”
“He didn’t say anything to me.”
“Maybe he had other things on his mind. I don’t think you should let Mrs. Colonel Schumann know about the radios when you’re in Pullach.”
“You don’t trust her?”
“She’s a woman. Women like to talk. She gets together with the girls at the CIC/ASA Officers’ Ladies Club. ‘You won’t believe the fancy radio I saw when I was checking on the club in the Pullach compound.’”
“Okay. Point taken, Freddy.”
“I wish she wasn’t going to the Pullach compound at all. But when I asked Major Wallace, he said we don’t want to make Colonel Schumann unhappy, which he would be if Mrs. Colonel Schumann was unhappy because she couldn’t go to the compound.”
“Well, I agree with you. I’ll see what I can do with Mattingly.”
“I don’t think he’ll want to make Colonel Schumann unhappy, either. Where do you want the radio?”
“Where would you recommend?”
“Your quarters. In a closet in your room where nobody can see it.”
“You going to tell McClung’s lieutenant, or should I?”
“You go out there and tell him. Officers don’t like enlisted men telling them what to do.”
“I never heard that.”
“I am constantly amazed at all the things you have never heard.”
“Officers don’t like smart-ass sergeants reminding them how dumb they are, either.”
“I can’t help being a smart-ass sergeant. I went to Harvard.”
“Did I ever tell you I wanted to go to Harvard?”
“No.”
“They wouldn’t let me in.”
“Why not?”
“My parents are married.”
“That’s funny. I like that. But enough of this camaraderie—since they wouldn’t let you into Harvard, I will tell you that means no more friendly good-fellowship . . .”
“I never heard that.”
“I am not surprised. Let’s get back to business. How do you plan to get the NKGB-er from where he is now onto the Argentine airplane?”
“Before or after we bury him—maybe before we execute him—we load him onto a Storch. And then, obviously, I fly him to Frankfurt.”
“We come back to Frankfurt in a minute, Jimmy. Let’s talk about the burying of him.”