“Where did you get that? Even with my connections, I can’t beg, borrow, or steal good shit like that anywhere.”
Canidy put it on the desk.
“It’s yours—no begging, borrowing, or stealing. Friend to friend.”
Palasota raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, what do you want? I’m already working on the other things we discussed.”
Canidy pointed to the Thompson and Johnson machine guns.
“For starters, that’s my Johnny gun.”
Palasota glanced at it, then nodded at Canidy.
“I wondered where that came from.”
Canidy went on: “I need to grab the SS guy, Kappler. And then I’m going to need a boat—something—to shuttle us out to our ride back to Algiers. All sometime in the next three days.”
“You mean Müller?”
Why are these guinea bastards always correcting me, telling me what I think I think?
“No, goddammit!” Canidy blurted. “I mean Müller’s boss in Messina. SS-Obersturmbannführer Oskar Kappler.”
Palasota looked at Canidy.
“SS-Obersturmbannführer Oskar Kappler?” he parroted.
“Yeah. I need to get to Messina yesterday.”
“You’re shitting me. Right?”
“What are you talking about? How can I be any clearer?”
Skinny Jimmy Palasota then laughed out loud.
Canidy was about to blow his cork when he heard Palasota then say: “SS-Obersturmbannführer Oskar Kappler just walked out of the hotel.”
* * *
“So you are the Messina Abwehr agent?” Dick Canidy said twenty minutes later to the man in the suit as they both stood in Palasota’s office in practically the same spots as they had about an hour earlier.
Ernst Beck nodded and grinned.
“And you’re Jupiter,” Beck replied.
Canidy nodded and grinned.
“This is just fucking surreal,” Canidy said.
“Now what?” SS-Obersturmbannführer Oskar Kappler then said, somewhat anxiously.
“Jupiter here gets you the hell out of Sicily,” Ernst Beck answered.
“Whoa!” Canidy blurted. “Unless someone is planning on a long swim, we’re going nowhere until the sub gets here. Which will be probably in three days. Meantime—”
“I saw the message,” Beck interrupted, “and with all due respect, it is imperative that Oskar disappear now.”