‘‘Yes, I know,’’ Douglass said. ‘‘But don’t take that to mean that I am acting impulsively. Before we sent for you, you were gone over very thoroughly. The decision to send for you was made by Colonel Donovan himself.’’
‘‘What would I be doing?’’ Baker asked.
Douglass ignored the question. ‘‘You’re about to be promoted at the State Department,’’ he said. ‘‘Which was one of the reasons Mr. Murphy couldn’t have you as a control officer. The State Department had high-priority plans for you. Our priority is even higher.’’
Douglass waited a moment for that to sink in and then went on. ‘‘You will, in any case, be given that promotion. If you come over here, State Department records will indicate that you are a special assistant to the undersecretary of state for European affairs. For the time being, at least, you will remain on the State Department payroll. But you will answer to me, not to anyone in the State Department. If I ever find out that you told anyone in the State Department anything that you learn here—and I would, Mr. Baker— you will spend the balance of your government career stamping visas. Do I make that point?’’
‘‘We’re back to the melodrama,’’ Baker said.
‘‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’’ Douglass said.
‘‘How much time do I have to think this over?’’ Baker asked.
‘‘Until you leave the room,’’ Douglass said.
‘‘Wouldn’t you be likely to think I’m a fool if I jumped into this impulsively?’’
‘‘I’ve read your files; you’re no fool. The question before me now is how decisive you are.’’
‘‘I’ll call your bluff,’’ Baker said.
‘‘I’m not bluffing,’’ Douglass said.
‘‘As I understand your offer, I retain my State Department status . . ."
‘‘For the time being. You may be asked to transfer to us later,’’ Douglass confirmed.
‘‘And I am to report to you, as head of a French/French North West African desk that is somehow involved in intelligence? ’’
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘All right,’’ Baker said.
‘‘Would you be offended if I said that I am not surprised? That, in fact, I have already arranged an office for you?’’ Douglass asked.
Baker thought that over.
‘‘No,’’ he said.
‘‘What is the highest security classification with which you are familiar, aside from Presidential Eyes Only?’’
‘‘Secretarial Eyes Only, I suppose,’’ Baker said.
‘‘Until we run you through the administrative process around here, I’m afraid I can’t let you take this out of the office,’’ Douglass said. ‘‘But I want it running through your head while you’re over at State this afternoon cleaning out your desk.’’
‘‘That quick?’’
Douglass ignored the question. ‘‘The classification of this—we haven’t come up with a satisfactory classification system yet, frankly—is somewhere below Presidential Eyes Only and somewhere above Secretarial Eyes Only. Only those Cabinet members with a need to know have access to it.’’
He handed Baker a file.
‘‘There’s as much information as we have on a man named Louis Albert Grunier in there,’’ Douglass said. ‘‘The first thing we have to do is find him, and the second thing we have to do is figure out the best way to get him here without arousing the suspicions of the Germans.’’
A quick glance at the first couple of lines showed Baker that Louis Albert Grunier was a French national who was last known to be an employee of Union Minière in the Katanga Province of the Belgian Congo. His present whereabouts were unknown.
‘‘May I ask why this man is valuable?’’ Baker asked.
‘‘Grunier knows the location of a certain raw material that is considered of great importance. We think he will be able to help us get our hands on it.’’