Crossword (9 page)

Julian was hoping not to have to tell him any more, at least
not now. Later, when he had taken the first step from which there was no
turning back, when he was committed to the point that any revelation of his
activities would end his career, if not get him thrown in jail, not to mention
losing the woman for whom he had done it all, then that would be the time when
the operational details of the plan could be revealed. Templeton, however, was
neither a fool nor an optimist, and he didn't really expect Kent to be
satisfied with the sparse information he had received so far. He was hooked,
the money had done that, but to reel him in would require that his conscience
be assuaged; he had to know that what he was doing would not hurt the United
States nor cost the lives of Americans.

"Who's going to buy the plutonium? If it's going to end
up in the hands of some other Axis country or diehard Nazi sympathizers, then I
don't want to have anything to do with it. Shit, they could make a bomb just to
get back at us for kicking Hitler's ass. And who's going to arrange the
sale?" The last question, for Julian, was the only one of importance, and
he was glad that Kent had asked it because it confirmed that, whatever other
qualities he might lack, he was sufficiently astute to realize that the
plutonium was the trump card and whoever controlled it, controlled the game.

"First of all, relax. You don't have to worry about a
bomb being made by any enemy of the United States because the plutonium will
never, under any circumstances, be sold to anyone who might turn around and use
it on us. I can be really positive about this point since I'm the one who'll
arrange the sale and I would never do anything to endanger my country, ever! As
to who the buyer is, I can't tell you because I don't know yet. There are
several prospects I'm talking to, I can't tell you who now, but no deal has
been made. This is a delicate issue and I have to maintain my confidences;
besides, I think you'll agree that it's better if you don't know too many
details until the sale is finalized. I just want to emphasize that I share the
concerns you raised, which is why I've already eliminated several potential
buyers. It will go to a friendly country, one that might end up getting
plutonium or info on how to make it from our government anyway, but doesn't
want to wait or take a chance. In any case, it will be out of the hands of the
Nazis or any of their friends.

"Are you in? This will go a lot smoother if we're both
working on it"

Kent replied so quickly it surprised even himself. "OK,
I'm with you."

Templeton stood up again and stretched, turning left and
right, seeing the same young woman on the bench, apparently breast feeding her
baby who was still intermittently crying, although louder than before.
Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a perturbation, the slightest of
ripples in the smooth, glass like surface that comprised Julian's awareness of
his surroundings, and, feeling uneasy, he walked off quickly in the direction
they had been heading, motioning for Mallory to come along.

Seventy-five meters to the rear a very attractive woman
began buttoning her blouse, almost forgetting about the baby alternately crying
and sucking on the nipple of a well formed but barren breast. She did, however,
experience a mild but nonetheless pleasant sexual arousal from the distress of
the infant alternating with it's urgent sucking and had to pause to take a deep
breath before she arose.

When the others arrived, Dulles was already sitting at the
conference table, a pale gray plume of smoke curling upward from the bowl of
his pipe resting in the heavy glass ashtray by his side. The smell of the
tobacco added the ambience of a gentlemen's club to the morning briefing, and
Julian, who was already in place, sat next to Allen watching as the delicate
streamer of smoke wafted first one way, then the other as each member of the
team opened the door and walked to their seat. Kent was a little surprised to
see him there before everyone else and wondered if he had been conferring with
Dulles or had simply arrived a bit early. Templeton's face gave nothing away,
but Kent was coming to believe that he didn't do anything that wasn't part of
some larger plan, whether it was to pull a scam on the United States government
or to bed a beauty from an English railroad town. As each of them entered,
Dulles looked up briefly from the pocket sized ledger into which he was making
notes to acknowledge their presence, part of his skill as a leader, diplomat
and confidant of refugees from all over. When they had all sat down, he closed
the book and slipped it into his jacket pocket, leaving his expensive Caron
D'ache pen on top of a tablet in front of him. He took a final draw on his
pipe, slowly exhaling while he seemingly absentmindedly rolled the pen over the
surface of the paper, staring at the gold band encircling the deep green of the
barrel. The sharp staccato sound of Dulles tapping out the bowl of the pipe
into the ashtray cut through the quiet chatter in the room, a gavel signaling
the start of the meeting. With the last of the smoke diffusing through the
room, Dulles cleared his throat and began.

"It's been two weeks now since we first met and it
looks like we're finally making some progress. We have a field agent for the
operation, or more correctly, Mr. Templeton spoke with me earlier this morning
and informed me of someone who he thinks would be willing to volunteer. He'll
make the arrangements and will report back as soon as he has
confirmation." He turned to his left and Julian nodded confirmation in
response to the unspoken, "Won't you Julian?" Kent smiled to himself
that his assessment of Julian had been correct. He was also glad that the
project could move ahead. Now that he had agreed to Templeton's private plan,
he was anxious to get moving, hoping that work and action would calm the fears
and guilt that persisted despite his attempts at rationalization. During the
rest of the briefing Kent tried his best to pay attention, but nothing of great
importance was said and it was hard for him to keep focused on the elaboration
of this plan by Allen Dulles when all he really wanted was to confer with his
new partner about their private operation and how it could be run
simultaneously with the official one. The one thing of importance that was
said, at least from Kent's point of view, was that Dulles wanted an operational
plan, even if not completely fleshed out, within forty-eight hours. When the
meeting concluded, Mallory practically jumped out of his seat to get to Julian.

"We don't have much time to put this together, when can
we start?" he asked, then continued so quickly it came out like a run on
sentence, "We didn't get that much in place these last two weeks."

Templeton held up his hand to slow him down, then replied,
"The rest of the day and into the night and, if necessary, through the
night. It shall be done. Don't worry. Besides, I've had a chance to do some
planning on my own."

"Good, I thought you might have. You know, I'm sorry
that I just haven't had much experience in planning this kind of thing. It's
not that I'm unwilling to do whatever it takes or spend all night trying to do
it, I..."

Julian held up his hand again. "I know, I really do. I
also know your potential. Remember, that's why I recommended you for this.
Look, I have a few things to do here, then we can go someplace to discuss
strategic planning. I'll see you by reception in about fifteen minutes."
He turned and quickly left the room, just before David Ruckelman approached
from the far side of the large table where he had been talking with Dulles and
now apparently wanted to speak with Julian. Templeton had noticed David's
progress in his peripheral vision and feared that if he stayed he would be
stuck with a much longer and more boring conversation than he cared for at the
moment, therefore his hasty retreat, leaving Kent to deal with Ruckelman. As he
walked through the door and turned into the corridor, he caught a brief glimpse
of Ruckelman cornering Kent, the latter looking after Julian and flashing an
expression that said, "I know that you did this to me but that's OK
because I'll do whatever it takes."

The 'few things' that Templeton had to do was continue his
Victory over Victoria campaign, so as soon as he reached the bottom of the
stairs he looked in her direction and said loudly, "Hi Vickie," as he
walked over to her desk.

She refused to look up or even acknowledge his greeting, the
usual response for those failing to use her proper English name. This was, of
course, exactly what Julian had anticipated and for which he had planned. No
action without a purpose, no move that hadn't been thought out in advance.
Wearing a contrite face and with sadness in his voice he said, "I am so
sorry Victoria and I certainly mean no disrespect but whenever I see you I just
get so overwhelmed by how beautiful you are I...I just get flustered and can't
think of what to say and then I say all the wrong things and keep running off
at the mouth and, shit..., I mean darn it. There I go again. Now I have to
apologize for my language as well as my stupidity. You must really hate me. I'm
sorry, very sorry; I'll just go." Head hung low he turned and started off
in the direction of the door.

"I don't hate you."

For just an instant, the corners of his mouth turned upward,
the briefest of smiles, before he swung around to look into her eyes, his face
now showing such a sincere feeling of relief at not being hated by her that
Victoria softened noticeably. How could she help but be flattered that her
approval meant so much to someone like Julian Templeton, obviously an important
fellow with the OSS. And how could Julian not feel a sense of vainglory at how
well his conquest was progressing.

He covered the few steps back to her desk, contrition
written on his face and apparent in his body language and, with slightly
hesitant voice, said softly, "I would really like to make it up to you for
being such a boor. Could you...I mean, will you let me take you to dinner? My
mother taught me to behave properly with a lady, and she'd be turning over in
her grave if she heard how I've been going on. You've just got to let me make
this right. Even if you don't like me, then at least for my mother." At
this, even Julian could not completely suppress a slight smile, and he was a
little concerned that Victoria would really get pissed off at what she thought
was a ruse. However, he had underestimated her naiveté, or perhaps her genuine
concern for people, because Victoria's reaction to his little grin was one of
endearment, the response of a personality that did not see subterfuge lurking
in everyone, a personality that inherently thought the best of people. She saw
only the sheepish smile of a man awkwardly asking a woman to dinner. No matter
how brave a man was, or how important or secretive his work, she was sure that
so many of them became a confused teenager when dealing with women.

"How can I refuse an offer like that? And, Mr.
Templeton, I do believe you are a gentleman, and that your mother would be
proud of you. I'm free the day after tomorrow." Her own social etiquette
prevented her from making herself too readily available, but two days,
especially in wartime, seemed sufficiently respectable.

"Thank you, Victoria. Will seven o'clock be OK?"

"That will be fine. Here's my address." She wrote
on a piece of notepaper and handed it to him. "I'm afraid I don't have a
phone, so you won't be able to ring me."

"I'll make sure I'm there on time. Good day."

Retrieving his coat, Julian walked to the door to wait for
Kent. When he emerged from the second floor meeting room and began descending
the stairs, Templeton began putting on his coat, smiling to Victoria and then
turning back to face Kent who rolled his eyes back in his head to indicate his
exasperation with having to listen to Ruckelman.

"An atomic bomb may be big, but it's boring as shit; at
least as told by David. I know a lot more than I want to about fission, fusion,
radioactivity and lead shielding. Let me grab my coat then I'm ready."

As they left the house, Kent said in a discreet voice,
"Where do you want to talk about this?"

"Let's go over to your place." They walked in near
silence to his apartment, Kent occasionally commenting on the weather or the
morning shoppers and Julian turning toward him as if listening to him, but
remaining silent, his thoughts elsewhere. Arriving at his apartment, Kent
reached for his keys and opened the heavy door that led into a dark hall, an
apartment on either side and a small sign indicating a third unit to the rear.
The wood timbers of the floor creaked slightly as they approached the stairs
and they each unbuttoned their coats as they made their way to the second
floor, the relative warmth of the building somewhat uncomfortable after the
brisk winter weather outside.

"We've really had some nice days lately; clear and
cool, but without the winter chill you'd expect at this time of year. Good
traveling weather."

Templeton smiled, and when they entered Kent's apartment and
were taking off their coats, said, "How'd you like to take a trip to
Lugano?"

6 KM. NORTH OF ALTSTATTEN, SWITZERLAND. 6 MARCH, 1945

The sound of snapping twigs and pounding feet echoed through
the forest, but Larry Sabatini heard only the pounding of his own heart in his
ears and the strident sound of his breathing coming in rapid, staccato bursts.
He was wearing a camouflage coverall, devoid of any insignias, names or other
markings, and under which he was dressed as a typical German laborer. A
rucksack was slung over his shoulders. It, too, was devoid of markings and was
of a type commonly used by farmers and workers in southern Germany, near the
Swiss border. He held an Army issue carbine in his hand, and his shoulder ached
from carrying it.