“Subtle. Is this before or after you try to get in her pants?”
“Before. No, after…Hell, whatever it takes.”
“You wouldn’t consider trading missions, would you?”
Fulmar raised an eyebrow in question. “Certainly not with what I know so far about yours.”
“It’s pretty straightforward. You’ve done it before. There’s another scientist to pull out before the Germans get him.”
“That’s it?”
“And something bigger that, according to Donovan, I’ll find when I get there. I’m going to need help with that and running the underground.”
“I think I’ll stick with trying to bag Ingrid and shoot saboteurs.”
He looked at the charts.
“But that explains your looting of the library.”
Canidy nodded.
“Oh, it gets better. I’m now officially involved with the King of the Looters.”
Fulmar looked at him, and shook his head.
“I don’t follow.”
“Charlie Lucky,” Canidy offered.
Fulmar shook his head again.
“Murder, Inc., ring a bell?” Canidy asked.
Fulmar’s eyes widened at the realization.
“No shit?” Fulmar said. “The mob?”
“No shit. The connection goes back to when Murray Gurfein…”
“…So Luciano,” Fulmar said finally, “is serving time, but, as boss of all bosses, is running the rackets from prison?”
“Exactly. And has pretty much made good on every request we—the U.S.—has made of him.”
“Amazing. But, then again, there’s no end to what people will do for the promise of freedom.” He paused. “It’s what this damned war is all about, no?”
Canidy nodded. “True. For some. Can’t forget, though, that for others it is an opportunistic time…”
The phone rang and Canidy reached for the receiver.
“Hello?”
Fulmar went back to the charts and studied them.
“Frank,” Canidy said, “how are you?
“Tonight is fine—
“Okay, got it. Six o’clock at Sammy’s, at the fish market. I’ll be bringing my partner, okay?”