Curtain of Death (Clandestine Operations 3)

“Miss Johansen,” Bischoff furnished.

Gehlen very slowly turned his head to Bischoff. His left eyebrow rose.

Bischoff’s face first flushed and then went pale.

“Vergeben Sie mir, Herr Generalmajor,” he muttered.

Gehlen turned his head back to Cronley and went on: “. . . to Pfungstadt.”

Cronley thought: So that’s how a German general shuts off someone who has spoken out of turn. A raised eyebrow and a glance icy enough to freeze the blood in the offender’s veins.

He looked at Bristol, and saw from the faint smile on his lips that he shared Cronley’s admiration.

“The timing here is important,” Gehlen went on. “This occurred before Major Wallace, and then you, called to tell me that Colonel Mattingly had gone missing.”

“He told you about that?” Cronley asked.

“Not at first. At first, he said he had come to ask clarification of the report on the significance of the recent movement of Soviet armored units in Hungary we’d given him the day before. When I answered his questions, he said that he wanted me to know that G-2, both here in Europe and in the Pentagon, was very impressed with the quality of the intelligence he was getting from me.

“Then he said he had come into intelligence himself that he felt he should share with me, but that doing so raised the delicate question of doing so because of you. He hoped I would consider what he was about to tell me as a confidence.

“Colonel Parsons then said he had been informed by General Seidel that Colonel Mattingly had gone missing, and that he presumed Major Wallace, and ultimately you, would be told of this by General Seidel very shortly, and that one or the other or both would probably be calling to tell me about Colonel Mattingly.

“He then went on to say that he knew I was aware of the friction between you and Colonel Mattingly and was sure that I knew it was nothing personal, that Mattingly’s only interest, and his, was that we—the Süd-Deutsche Industrielle Entwicklungsorganisation—continue to furnish the high-quality intelligence we have been furnishing.

“Colonel Parsons then said, ‘between soldiers’—don’t quote me—that he saw the root of the problem was that DCI was under a couple of sailors. He said something to the effect that I probably agreed that the Army and the Navy think differently. That he could not imagine, if Admiral Souers was a general, that he would have given such heavy responsibility to a young and inexperienced officer as he had to you.”

“The sonofabitch!” Cronley said, which earned him a raised eyebrow and a look nearly as icy as the one General Gehlen had given Bischoff.

When he looked at Colonel Bristol, he saw both admiration and amusement in his eyes and his smile.

Gehlen continued: “Colonel Parsons then said he had reason to believe that certain changes in the command structure were about to be made, and that . . . I forget exactly how he phrased it, but I took it to mean that he felt if I didn’t raise any objections to the change, or question it, I—the Süd-Deutsche Industrielle Entwicklungsorganisation—had nothing to worry about.”

Gehlen looked at Cronley as if waiting for his reaction.

When Cronley, not without effort, kept his automatic mouth in the off position, Gehlen went on: “Admiral Canaris once told me that it was a given that people would tell you untr

uths. The trick was to not only recognize this when this happened, but to ask oneself the liars’ motives.”

He paused, and—now with a faint smile on his lips—added: “In this case, I would suggest that even a young and inexperienced intelligence officer would have much difficulty in guessing the motives of this liar.”

“No,” Cronley said, “I think they’re pretty clear.”

“If I may, Jim,” Gehlen said. “I’m not quite finished.”

“Vergib mir, Herr Generalmajor,” Cronley said.

Bischoff flashed Cronley an angry glance.

Cronley saw that Gehlen, former Oberst Ludwig Mannberg, and Colonel Bristol were smiling.

“My old friend Rahil has been heard from,” Gehlen said. “The essence of her message is that we have something Nikolayevich Merkulov wants back, and he has something we want back. She suggests that not only should you, Jim, and I meet with Ivan Serov to discuss an exchange, but where we should do so and when.”

“I don’t understand any of that,” Bristol blurted, and then when he heard what he had said, added, “Vergib mir, Herr Generalmajor.”

Bischoff glared at Bristol. Gehlen and Mannberg smiled.

“And I can’t tell you, Colonel, without Jim’s permission,” Gehlen said.