“Which brings us back to the funeral. How’s that going?”
“Sir, when I left the cemetery just before coming here, a backhoe that Colonel Bristol sent over was about to open the graves. He also found somebody to make the tombstones.”
“Greg, he’s Norwich, too, ’40, I think,” White said. “Engineer. Good man. I suspect—but don’t know—that Captain Cronley has brought him into the loop.”
“Yes, sir. I did.”
“How long is this exhumation/reburial process going to take?” White asked.
“It depends on how soon we get the tombstones. Augie Ziegler found a Russian Orthodox priest—”
“An archiereus,” Wagner interjected. “That’s like a bishop.”
“I stand corrected,” Cronley said. “An archiereus who will conduct the burial.”
He turned to Wagner and asked, “Does this guy have priests under him? I mean, can we get priests, broth
ers, whatever to participate?”
“There was a price. Augie said he thought you’d be happy to pay it.”
“And I will be. I want this done right.”
“My question was,” White said, “how long is this going to take?”
“Colonel Bristol said he’s been promised the tombstones by the day after tomorrow, but not to hold my breath. I’m working with the day after the day after tomorrow. That would be February fourth.”
“And since Serov wants the exchange to take place on the thirteenth, that would leave nine days.”
“Yes, sir,”
“Mr. Cronley,” Colonel McMullen said, “General White said something about you having a relationship with Commandant Jean-Paul Fortin of the DST?”
Cronley nodded.
“In connection with SS-Brigadeführer Ulrich Heimstadter. I hope, I hope?”
“If you’re talking about the guy from Peenemünde, his name never came up when I was with Fortin.”
“Damn,” McMullen said.
“Can I ask what you were doing with Fortin?” Major Lomax asked.
“Trying to get into Odessa by . . .” Cronley paused, then said, “Bottom line is that my clever idea didn’t work.”
“What didn’t work?” McMullen asked.
“It’s a long story, Colonel.”
“My wife and the other ladies won’t be back for an hour and a half,” White said, after looking at his watch. “Will that give you enough time?”
“Yes, sir. Well, my mother is a Strasbourgerin, a World War One war bride . . .”
—
“. . . Finney said he’s sure my cousin Luther was onto our little scheme,” Cronley concluded. “And Finney is a very clever guy.”
“Chauncey speaks very highly of him,” White said. “Do you think it would be useful if you raised the question of this chap Heimstadter with Fortin? McMullen suspects Heimstadter and the other Peenemünde Nazi . . .”