Curtain of Death (Clandestine Operations 3)

Neat, and obviously new, signs, one nailed above the door of the small, freshly painted cottage and another stuck into its snow-covered lawn, read OFFICE OF THE OMGUS LIAISON OFFICER.

OMGUS was the acronym for Office of Military Government, U.S.

It was, de facto, the headquarters of DCI-Europe.

The chief, DCI-Europe, one James D. Cronley Jr., sat near the head of a conference table in the main downstairs room. At the head of the table, wearing a shabby suit, shirt, and necktie, was a slight, pale-faced forty-three-year-old with a prominent thin nose, piercing eyes, and a receding hairline. He was former Generalmajor Reinhard Gehlen.

Across from Cronley was the only woman in the room. Claudette Colbert was wearing a WAC officer’s pinks-and-greens uniform with triangles. Her first role in the meeting had been that of witness to the attack on her and Technical Sergeant Miller. Following that, for the past hour and a half, she had been performing her duties as administrative officer of DCI-Europe, which translated to mean she was taking notes in case it was decided—as Cronley or Major Wallace almost certainly would—that a record of the meeting be kept. Augie Ziegler was sitting next to her.

Wallace was sitting on the other side of the table beside Cronley. Jack Hammersmith was sitting next to Wallace. Scattered elsewhere around the table were former Oberst Ludwig Mannberg, a tall, aristocratic-looking man who had been Gehlen’s deputy in Abwehr Ost and now held the same position in the Süd-Deutsche Industrielle Entwicklungsorganisation, who was wearing a well-cut single-breasted glen plaid suit; Max Ostrowski; and Captain “Tiny” Dunwiddie.

The table was just about covered with documents of all kinds, photographs, ashtrays, and coffee mugs.

“My stomach just told me for the third time that it needs to be fed,” Cronley announced. “And my watch just told me it’s the noon hour. And all we’re doing here is kicking the same thoughts around.”

“I think Jim is suggesting we adjourn for lunch,” Mannberg said, lightly sarcastic.

Mannberg had a pronounced upper-class British accent. It was the result of his having spent four years in London, the first two (1933–1935) as a junior military attaché of the German embassy, and the last two, ending in 1939, as the military attaché. He had spent most of 1936 and 1937 in Russia, with the result being that his Russian was nearly as fluent as his English.

“We didn’t get to discuss two things,” General Gehlen said, his English also fluent, sounding almost American, but with a pronounced accent. “What was the motive for the attempted kidnapping and who did it? Depending on who did it, the NKGB or Odessa, the motive, I suggest, may be different.”

“I’ve been holding off on that, General,” Wallace said. “The admiral has some thoughts on Odessa he wants me to share with you during our deliberations.”

“In that case, may I vote with Jim?” Gehlen asked, and got to his feet.

The others followed, then started to walk out of the room. Wallace made a discreet gesture to Hammersmith not to rush.

When they were the last in the room, Wallace gestured again, signaling Hammersmith to slow down.

Outside the cottage, as the others walked ahead of them toward the nearest of the three kasernen, Wallace put his hand on Hammersmith’s arm.

“We need a quick word,” he said. “Which I would rather have had before that meeting got started. But you weren’t here, then.”

“Yes, sir?”

“But, since you were there, give me a quick take on what you thought.”

“About what, sir?”

“Start with Cronley.”

“He acts like he’s in charge,” Hammersmith said.

“He is.”

“I should have said, he acts like he’s Gehlen’s chief of staff. Gehlen was running that meeting.”

“No. Cronley was running it. He was just being polite to General Gehlen. Mannberg is Gehlen’s chief of staff.”

“General Greene told me you’re really the man in charge.”

“Officially, I’m the CIC representative at the table. I make suggestions to Captain Cronley only when I think it’s necessary.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What about the CID guy? Ziegler?”

“He struck me as a good deal smarter than most of them.”