But, as my mother told me, there is always an exception to every rule.
My gut tells me I can trust General Greene, and thus this cold-eyed colonel.
Supporting that argument is that Hammersmith is here. If Greene wanted someone to report to him on me, it would be Hammersmith.
Should I go with my gut feeling, or listen to Gehlen’s Trust No One?
Yet another factor bearing on this problem is that until I’m relieved—and Major Harold Wallace more than likely is working hard on that right now—I’m chief, DCI-Europe.
And, as such, I’m supposed to make decisions without—what did Patton say? “Do not take counsel of your fears”—immediately deciding that the worst-case scenario is the one most likely to bite me on the ass.
“In that case, Colonel, I’m very glad you’re here,” Cronley said.
“So, what can I do for you?”
“Did General Greene tell you why I’m interested in the Glienicke Bridge?”
Ledbetter nodded.
“I’d like to have a look at it as soon as possible. How far is it from here?”
“Not far, but you’re not going to be able to see anything at this time of day.”
Hessinger and Claudette stepped closer.
“There’s not much to see, Mr. Cronley,” Hessinger said. “Miss Colbert and I took a look before we came here.”
“And?”
“Girder bridge, two lanes.”
“What about Russians?”
“There were maybe half a dozen Russian soldiers at their end of the bridge,” Claudette said. “Just standing around.”
“And on our end?”
“Two MPs sitting in a jeep.”
“Colonel,” Cronley asked, “has this—a prisoner swap or, for that matter, any interaction between us and the Russians—ever happened at the bridge before?”
“Just the return of Red Army soldiers who got drunk and locked up in our zone,” Ledbetter said. “Or GIs who got drunk and locked up over there. Nothing like this.”
“What I would like to do tomorrow,” Cronley said, “after they put Colonel Mattingly on display on the bridge, is to try to see where they take him afterward. Any ideas how we can do that?”
“I’m already working on that,” Mannberg said. “There are two possibilities. One is the Cecilienhof Palace in the Neuer Garten—”
“Where they held the Potsdam Conference, right?” Cronley interrupted.
Mannberg nodded. “Comrade Serov might be staying there. As it was good enough for Crown Prince Wilhelm Hohenzollern, he may have decided it’s appropriate quarters for Commissar of State Security Nikolayevich Merkulov, his deputy, and a visiting American.”
“And possibility two?”
“They’re holding Mattingly someplace else, God and Serov only knowing where.”
Ledbetter looked at Mannberg and said, “I gather you’re no stranger to Berlin, Mr. . . . ?”
“Sorry,” Cronley said. “Colonel, this is Mr. Ludwig Mannberg of the DCI. And Claudette Colbert, Fred Hessinger, and Max Ostrowski, ditto.”