Curtain of Death (Clandestine Operations 3)

Cronley looked at Wagner.

“You sure you want to do this, son? That you know what you’re volunteering for?”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Yes, sir, I really want to help the old lady cross the street. To do my duty to God and my country!

“And slay dragons!”

“How long’s it going to take you to go to your kaserne and pack an overnight bag?” Cronley asked.

Why do I think I’m going to regret this decision?

“I won’t have to do that, sir. If there’s a PX and a clothing store at Pfungstadt, I can get whatever I need there.”

Cronley considered that for a moment.

“Okay, here’s the schedule: Wagner drives Miss Johansen to Pfungstadt. If they leave now—it’s about a hundred and sixty miles, all autobahn, so that’s about four hours—they’ll get there about 1500. That’ll give Miss Johansen time to tell the Stripes people that she’s going to leave Wagner there for a couple of days. And for them to go to the PX and the clothing store. And while that’s happening, I’ll go to the PX here and get the goodies Sergeant Finney is going to take to Strasbourg. Then I’ll get in a Storch and fly to Eschborn, pick up one of the Ford staff cars we’ve got stashed there, and go to Rhine-Main to meet the SAA flight arriving at 1700 and get the tourist pictures of the Likharevs seeing the sights in Buenos Aires. It’s a short haul from Rhine-Main to Pfungstadt, so I should get there by 1800. That makes it too late to get back here today, but we can take off at first light and be at Kloster Grünau by, say, ten tomorrow morning.”

r /> “Where will you spend the night?” Claudette asked.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Cronley admitted.

“I’m surprised,” Claudette said.

Cronley sensed something in her tone of voice and looked at her.

What is that, the Green-Eyed Monster?

He saw in her eyes that it was.

“Eschborn is right down the road from the senior officers’ hotel, Schlosshotel Kronberg,” Janice said. “What about that?”

“That’d work,” Cronley said.

“I’m sure it will,” Claudette said, with a knowing smile.

Is Augie picking up on this? Or anybody else?

“Well, let’s get the show on the road. Get out of that MP gear, Wagner,” Cronley ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Wagner said, and began to divest himself of the white MP Sam Browne belt and holster, the MP brassard on his arm, and the white leggings.

“I’ll hang on to that stuff for you, Wagner,” Ziegler said.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Dette, give him fifty—no, a hundred—dollars from the safe,” Cronley ordered.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

Ziegler saw Wagner take the .45 Colt semiautomatic pistol from his holster.

“Karl, you can leave the .45 in its holster,” Ziegler said. “I’ll take care of it.”

Wagner ejected the magazine, racked the action, checked to see that it was unloaded, and then reinserted the magazine.

“I thought I’d take it with me,” Wagner said, holding the pistol in his large hand.