Curtain of Death (Clandestine Operations 3)

“Well, I think he’s probably a colonel, and that he’s doing something in Strasbourg for de Gaulle besides being the local CIC or CID guy.”

“He also knows a lot more than you would expect,” Finney said.

“For example?” Wallace asked.

“He knew all about the DCI . . . that it was like three weeks old,” Finney said. “And he knew who General Greene is.”

“So, what do you think Fortin is doing for de Gaulle, besides being the local CIC or CID guy?” Wallace asked.

“I don’t have a clue. But I think I know why he’s personally interested in Odessa.”

“Why?”

“His family was in Strasbourg . . .” Cronley said.

“And he picked up right away on the captain’s Strasbourg accent,” Finney said. “Which may have had something to do with the way he opened up to us.”

“May I ask a question?” Hammersmith asked.

“Shoot,” Cronley said.

“I’m getting the feeling that you were all talking with this man in German.”

Cronley nodded.

Hammersmith said: “Hessinger is a German Jew. And you got your German from your mother.”

“So how come I speak German?” Finney asked.

Hammersmith nodded.

“Tell him, Al,” Cronley said.

“I grew up in Yorkville,” Finney said. “Upper East Side of Manhattan. Lots of Germans. My pals were Germans. I went—kindergarten up—to a German school. We went to a Lutheran church, services conducted in German. So when I turned eighteen and promptly got drafted and I told the Army I spoke German, they tested me, and then the SNAFU began—”

“As another linguist, General,” Cronley put in, “let me translate. SNAFU means Situation Normal, All Fucked Up.”

Gehlen gave one of his small smiles.

“I was told that was FUBAR,” he said.

“No, sir. That means Fucked Up Beyond All Repair.”

“Thank you,” Gehlen said.

“Go on, Al,” Cronley ordered.

“So some guy comes to see me in basic training, flashes his CIC credentials—which having never seen them before, impressed hell out of me—and then asks, in German, how come I speak German, and says, ‘Answer in German.’

“So I did. Then he tells me the CIC is looking for people who speak German to chase Nazis, and was I interested? I knew my other option was being sent overseas to work as a stevedore, or fix roads, et cetera, which is where the Army was assigning people with my complexion, so I told him I was really interested. So I’m off to Camp Holabird—”

“You’re CIC?” Hammersmith blurted in surprise.

“I was for a while, Jack,” Finney said.

“What the hell do you mean, you were for a while?” Hammersmith asked.

“Let him finish, Hammersmith,” Cronley ordered curtly.