Crossword (44 page)

There followed forty-eight hours of intense work by the two
of them, Dulles reluctant to call in any help since he didn't know the extent
to which his network may have been compromised. He expected that Julian, being
smart, would have omitted incriminating items and contacts from his case files
once he began the rogue operation, but it was likely that some of the
connections that made his plan possible, that, in fact, may have given him the
idea, had been established previously and their footprints were in earlier case
files that were beyond tampering by Julian. All they had to do was find them.

* *

"Mr. Dulles, take a look at this." It was after Nine PM
of the second night and Bill had several pages from different files arrayed on
the large conference table. "There is a small group of partisans operating
out of northern Italy, mainly around the Trentino Alto-Adige region. That area
shares borders with both Austria and Switzerland."

"I know it. I was there before the war. Beautiful
countryside; the Dolomites extend into that region."

Bill captured the conversation again, as quickly as he could
without sounding insubordinate, before Dulles could go off on a tangent,
reminiscing about his extensive travels. "Anyway, the group is headed by a
fellow going under the name of Fabrizio, who Templeton has used multiple times
over the last few years, either as part of some operation or as a source of
information. The last mention of him was in a document from December of 1944,
where it indicates a payment to him of five hundred American dollars, then
there's no reference to him or any of his group in any reports since."

"Were they captured or dispersed for fear of being
discovered?"

"There's no record of anything happening to him, nor is
there any explanation for why this particular asset was no longer being
used."

"Other than for use as an occasional bribe they might
need, we don't pay these people; they're patriots, risking their lives for the
sake of their country and fellow citizens. I don't recall authorizing any payment."

"Five hundred dollars is just under the limit where
expenses need your personal OK."

"You think Julian was raising a small private
militia?"

"It wouldn't be the first time that criminals or those
interested only in themselves changed their stripes and presented themselves as
defenders of freedom. For some it was a true epiphany, a realization of just
how much their country meant to them, for others it was simply a change of
venue and a new way to turn a profit."

"So we lose track of this group after December. What
else was going on then?"

"Templeton's trip to Altstatten, and Waldman's thirty
six hour absence from command headquarters, Berlin, took place in early
December. Also, by that time it was obvious to the real tacticians among the
Nazi military command that they were going to be defeated."

"The general knows this and figures it's time to get in
the game even though he doesn't have the plutonium yet. But how did he get to
Julian, and why him?"

"I think it was just a walk in. I checked the visitor
log that Victoria submits each week. In November there's an entry for someone
claiming to be a representative of a German SS general, not such an unusual
occurrence, but almost all of them prove to be low level military with no
connection to anyone higher than a sergeant, and no information of any use.
Often it's just a refugee looking to line his pockets or achieve some kind of
recognition with the presumptive victors. In this case, Victoria had him talk
to Templeton; he was the duty officer that day. The report that he filed
indicates he met with a junior officer who refused to give his name, and upon
questioning could provide no proof of his access to a general, nor would he be
able to get the purported general to demonstrate any kind of action that would
signal his actual command authority. Templeton concludes that he was worthless
as an asset and no further mention of him appears in any record."

"That could very well be the initial contact. If so,
Julian saw an opportunity that he decided to keep in his vest pocket."
Dulles tapped out the tobacco in his cold pipe and asked a question, more to
himself than to Bill. "Why does a man sell out his country?" Even
though they both knew the question had been rhetorical, Bill suggested that
maybe the answer would be in the pouch that was due to arrive tomorrow. He
expected that there would be more background info on Templeton. Dulles didn't
reply. He sat there thinking.

Bill stood up to leave, but the director motioned him to
wait. "Hold on while I write a note that I want you to get to Caserta as
quickly as possible. Mark it extremely urgent." He took about five
minutes, reading through it once and making a few changes before giving the
paper to his aide. "Let me know as soon as you get a response."

Maria and Larry were up early, the bright sun, barely over the
horizon, the harbinger of a splendid spring day. After a quick breakfast of
bread and cheese from their packs, they left their room and descended to the
main bar and dining room below, where the matron poked her head out of the
kitchen and wished them a good morning. In response to her offer to prepare
breakfast for them, they demurred, thanked her for her hospitality, and moments
later were on the road again heading south towards Austria. There were a fair
number of people on foot as well as sporadic vehicular traffic, most of the
flow going north, away from the advancing allied forces. Larry was surprised
and relieved that so far they had not encountered any military units, a relief
that was to be short lived. The unending lines of refugees that had
characterized the early months of the war as German troops overran one country
after the other, were not to be seen now that the tables were reversed; in
those days the fleeing population had hopes of escaping to the unconquered
lands that surrounded the ever expanding cancer that was Nazi Germany. However,
as the end of the Third Reich drew near, where could the Germans run? Like a
star that expands in a sudden flash, spreading its brilliance across the sky,
only to later contract into a small, cold, dense mass, the lifeless residue of
flames that burnt too intensely, so the Germans returned to their own land. But
once within their borders, they could contract no further, could not huddle as
one in the geometric center of the country, holding on to each other and
awaiting the onslaught of the avenging allies. They had to abide, stay by their
homes and pray that the approaching juggernaut would pass them by without harm.

Shortly after noon, as they crested a small hill, Larry
could see a long column of vehicles several kilometers ahead, a trail of dust
dancing in the air above them. "That's got to be military," he said
to Maria. "I can't tell what kind of unit it is, but I think it would be
safer if we didn't wait to find out. Let's head into those trees and wait until
they pass. We have a couple of apples left so we may as well call it a lunch
break." They walked the short distance to the wooded area that bordered
the road and disappeared into the subdued light of the cool forest, the smell
of pine filling their nostrils and the mat of needles padding their footfalls.
At a point where Larry could make out the road, but from which they would be
unseen by anyone traveling on it, they removed their packs and found a large
tree stump to serve as a bench. Larry placed his pack five feet away behind a
protruding rock, which he hoped would provide shielding from its contents, took
hold of Maria's hand and kissed it as they sat there quietly, enjoying the
brief respite from the trail. After a moment she reached into her pack and
produced two apples, one of which she handed to Larry, a sly smile on her face
as she said, "Why is this familiar? A woman in a gardenlike setting giving
a man an apple and encouraging him to take a bite. Hmmm?" She started to
giggle, then bit into the red fruit, the crunch of the bite sounding loudly in
the quiet surroundings, followed by the noise of Larry sinking his teeth into
the offering. There followed a third sound, the crackling of a twig snapping,
and Larry jerked his head up, turning to the direction of the noise. He spit
out the fruit as he looked at a large man wearing ragged clothes, a hunting
knife hanging from his belt. Broad shoulders supported a generous head with jet
black eyes starring out from a dirty face. Following his eyes, Larry turned to
the left and saw two more men, smaller, but equally scruffy, forming a partial
circle around them. Maria moved closer to him, sliding her arm in his. He quickly
disentangled himself and stood up, placing his hand on her shoulder, an
indication that she should stay put, while he angled his body so he could see
all three of the intruders. Unfortunately, they had a pack instinct and slowly
moved to surround the couple.

"What can we do for you fellows?" he said, not
directing the inquiry directly at any one of them. One of the smaller men
replied, and that at least told Larry who the leader was.

"Well, we're in need of food and maybe some
clothes."

"And maybe something else, too," said the man next
to him, starring intently at Maria.

"We don't have much food, but we're glad to share some
with you."

The leader expelled a short laugh. "Sharing isn't what
we have in mind." The big fellow sniggered and took a step toward Larry's
pack. Larry turned and faced the approaching giant head on while the leader
continued, "What you got in that sack? Seems like it must be pretty
important."

"Believe me, it's nothing you want. It could kill you,
all of you."

"You carrying some kind of bomb? I better have a look.
Max, bring me that satchel."

"It's poison! You could die, Max." The big guy
hesitated, then looked to the leader.

"It doesn't look like it did him much harm. Just get
the pack, Max, we'll get the woman." Again that short laugh.

As much as Larry wanted to take immediate action and run to
Maria's protection, he knew that would be the wrong move, something for which
they would both suffer. And so he kept his eyes squarely on Max, even as he
heard the others advance towards the woman he loved. The giant starred back at
Larry as he took the final step to the pack and bent to pick it up, at the last
instant looking down so he could take hold of the straps. Larry needed only
that fraction of a second to make his move. There was no time for lead in
steps, he just brought his right foot forward with all his strength, like a
soccer player confronted with a fleeting, unexpected shot at the goal, one
requiring the utmost celerity. The kick landed on the left side of his jaw, its
force, however, mitigated by the fact that Max was already starting to
straighten up, his head receding from the direction of the blow. Nonetheless,
it was sufficient to drop him to the ground although not to knock him out.
Obviously used to fighting, the big man kept his wits and immediately grabbed
the butt of his knife and slid it out of the holster, rotating his wrist so the
business end was pointing at Larry while he started to get back on his feet.
Back alley fights and bar room brawls were not part of Larry's youth, but the
commando training he received from the army and the OSS made up for that. He
launched himself across the short distance separating them and expertly wrapped
his arms around the knife hand of his opponent, neutralizing it for the moment,
then, from the squatting position in which he found himself, propelled himself
upward, still holding fast to Max's arm. He heard the giant's shoulder pop as
his arm separated from the socket, followed by a loud yell as the pain hit him
like a jolt of electricity and he settled back on his knees, leaning forward
and supporting his torso on one arm, the other hanging useless. Larry reached
for the knife, but Max, still on his knees, turned to the side, grabbing Larry
in a one armed bear hug, falling on his back at the same time. He now had him
around the neck, flexing his arm like a nutcracker, hoping to crush the breath
out of Larry. Larry tried to loosen the vice like grip to no avail, then
reached out trying to take hold of the knife, but it was out of reach. His
flailing arms found the pack as his breathing became labored, and he rooted
inside, feeling the cold metal of the plutonium like some silver shot put.
Sparkles of light danced before his eyes and he began to feel dizzy. Grunting,
the big man tightened his hold, rotating from side to side like a feline
predator shaking its prey. Larry tried removing the grapefruit sized mass but
it kept slipping from his sweating hand. As he was jerked to and fro, he caught
glimpses of Maria struggling with her attackers, saw her knocked to the forest
floor, her blouse ripped and one of the men spreading her legs apart while the
other sat on her chest. The yell of anguish that came from Larry reverberated
through the trees, and he made a final lunge to the side, took a firm grip on
the heavy plutonium ball, lifting it high before slamming it down on Max's head
with all the might he could muster. He was splattered by blood as the big man's
scalp split and the underlying bone splintered. As soon as the death grip on
his neck relaxed, Larry tore himself free and rushed to Maria, throwing one of
the attackers to the side and grabbing the other around the neck in a hammer
lock, snapping his head forward in one swift movement and holding him until his
body went limp.

Larry knelt down beside Maria and held her in his arms. She
was breathing heavy but was not sobbing, although she clung tightly to him. He
realized that throughout the ordeal she had not cried out, must have known
instinctively that any distraction could jeopardize his ability to deal with
the situation. What bravery and trust, he thought, must reside in this petite
woman who had been through so much in her young life. "God, how I love
her," he said to himself as he held her even tighter.