The Assassination Option

by W. E. B Griffin

  Finally, he asked, “Bill, what are the odds Cronley could pull this off?”

  “Sir, I would estimate the odds at just about fifty-fifty,” Wilson said.

  General and Mrs. White exchanged a long look, after which White resumed rocking his finger-locked hands together, for about fifteen seconds.

  “George Patton was always saying we’re going to have to fight the Russians sooner or later,” he said finally.

  He looked at his wife again. She nodded.

  “Try to not let this be the lighting of the fuse that does that,” General White said.

  “Sir, does that mean . . . ?” Colonel Wilson began.

  “It means, Bill, that while you are providing Captain Cronley with whatever he needs, you will try very hard not to light the fuse that starts World War Three.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  X

  [ONE]

  Conference Compartment, Car #2

  Personal Train of the Commanding General, U.S. Constabulary

  Approaching Hauptbahnhof

  Munich, American Zone of Occupation, Germany

  1615 17 January 1946

  The sliding door from the corridor opened and Captain Chauncey L. Dunwiddie stepped inside.

  The commanding general, United States Constabulary, was sitting at a twenty-foot-long highly polished wooden conference table around which were also seated more than a dozen officers, the junior of them a lieutenant colonel.

  General I.D. White’s eyebrows rose in disbelief.

  “What?” General White asked.

  Captain James D. Cronley Jr. slid into the room.

  “Oh, I now understand,” General White said. “You two decided the red Conference in Session light was actually advertising a brothel.”

  Mrs. White slipped into the room.

  “I didn’t hear that,” she said.

  “Hear what, my love?”

  “I insisted they make their manners,” she announced. “So that I would not have to hear you complaining that they hadn’t.”

  “Why are they making their manners? We’re nowhere near Sonthofen.”

  “They’re getting off in Munich.”

  “I’ve seen Chauncey a total of twenty minutes,” he protested.

  “Duty calls, apparently,” she said.

  Tiny came to attention.

  “Permission to withdraw, sir?”

  “Granted.”

  Tiny saluted, followed a half second later by Cronley.

  The general returned them.

  Cronley started to follow Mrs. White out of the conference compartment.

  “Cronley!”

  Captain Cronley froze in mid-step and then turned to face General White.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “The next time you want to talk to me, seek an appointment. I’ve told Colonel Davidson to put you ahead of everybody but my wife.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  [TWO]

  The Hauptbahnhof

  Munich, American Zone of Occupation, Germany

  1635 17 January 1946

  The private train of the commanding general, U.S. Constabulary, rolled into what little was left of the bahnhof—it had been nearly destroyed during the war, and the recently started reconstruction had taken down what little had remained after the bombing—and stopped.

  The door to the first car of the train slid open.

  Two Constabulary troopers stepped onto the platform. One of them came to attention to the left of the door and the other to the right.

  As first Captain James D. Cronley Jr. and then Captain Chauncey L. Dunwiddie came through the door, the troopers saluted crisply.

  Captains Cronley and Dunwiddie returned the salute.

  One of the troopers put a glistening brass whistle—which had been hanging from his epaulet on a white cord—to his lips and blew twice.

  The train immediately began to move. The troopers went quickly through the door and it slid closed.

  Captain Cronley addressed those waiting on the platform, Mr. Friedrich Hessinger and Miss Claudette Colbert.

  “How nice of you to meet us. And now that you have seen the evidence of the high regard in which Captain Dunwiddie and myself are held by the U.S. Constabulary, I am sure we will be treated with greater respect and deference than you have shown in the past.”

  “Well, I’m awed,” Miss Colbert said.

  “You got us to come down here to watch you get off the train?” Mr. Hessinger asked incredulously.

  “What happened,” Tiny said, “is that Colonel Wilson was showing us the communications on the train, and asked if there was anyone we wanted to call. Our leader said, ‘Let’s get Freddy on the phone, and have him pick us up at the bahnhof. Save the price of a taxicab.’ So he did.”

  “A cab would have cost you fifty cents!” Hessinger complained.

  “‘A penny saved is a penny earned,’” Cronley quoted piously. “Isn’t that true, Miss Colbert?”

  “And ‘A fool and his money are soon parted,’” she replied.

  Their eyes met momentarily.

  He forced the mental image this produced of Miss Colbert in her birthday suit from his mind.

  Nose to the grindstone, Cronley!

  “Is Major Wallace in the office?” he asked.

  “Probably for the next five minutes,” Freddy said. “He really hates missing Happy Hour at the Engineer O Club, and that starts at five o’clock.”

  “I may have to ruin his evening,” Cronley said. “We’ve got a lot to do and we’re going to need him.”

  “For instance?” Freddy asked.

  “I’ll tell you at the office,” Cronley said, “when I tell him.”

  “For instance,” Tiny said, “we’ve got to get the Storchs to Sonthofen first thing in the morning, which means I’m going to have to go out to Kloster Grünau and set that, and some other things, up. Do I just take the Kapitän?”

  “I can drive you out there,” Claudette said.

  “Do it. We’ll need the Kapitän in the morning,” Cronley ordered.

  [THREE]

  Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten

  Maximilianstrasse 178

  Munich, American Zone of Occupation, Germany

  1705 17 January 1946

  Major Harold Wallace was checking to ensure the door to Suite 507 was securely locked when Cronley and Hessinger came down the aisle.

  “What would it take to get you to miss Happy Hour at the Engineer O Club?”

  “Not much, as I have something to tell you,” Wallace said. “I didn’t know if you were coming back here today or not.”

  He unlocked the door and waved Cronley and Hessinger into the office.

  As soon as Cronley was in the office, he said, “Maybe I can save us both time. What would you say if I told you I need your help with getting Mrs. Likharev and offspring over the border?”

  “The first thing that pops into my mind is that you have FUBAR something somehow.”

  “Not yet. But that’s probably inevitable.”

  “And the second thing is that you don’t want me to mention this to Colonel Mattingly. True?”

  “True.”

  “One of the things I thought you might be interested in hearing is that Colonel Mattingly was on the horn a couple of hours ago—”

  “You haven’t answered my question. Can I tell you what problems I have without Mattingly hearing about any of them?”

  “I thought that question had arisen and been disposed of,” Wallace said, just a little sharply.

  “Sorry,” Cronley said, and a moment later, added: “I apologize.”

  Wallace nodded, then said, “The officer in question was on the horn a couple of hours ago. It has come to his attention that General White has returned to
Germany, specifically, that he flew into Rhine-Main, where a large number of friends and others met him, and then, after making his manners to General Smith, set off for Sonthofen on his private train. He was curious as to why he was not (a) informed of this, and (b) was not invited to the arrival at Rhine-Main or to ride on the train.”

  “And he thought you might know?”

  “That, and he wondered if Tiny, because of his relationship with the general, knew about this, and didn’t think he would be interested.”

  “Tiny knew about it because I told him. I don’t know if he would have told Mattingly or not . . . he probably would have, being the good soldier he is . . . but he didn’t have the time.”

  “And who told you?”

  “Hotshot Billy Wilson.”

  “The plot thickens. What the fuck is going on?”

  Cronley told him all that had happened.

  During the recitation, Cronley saw that Hessinger was unable to keep his face from registering surprise, concern, alarm, and disbelief. Or various combinations of the foregoing.

  “But, I just thought of this,” Cronley concluded. “Mattingly not getting invited may be innocent. I mean, nobody consciously decided, ‘Let’s not tell Mattingly.’”

  “Explain that.”

  “General Smith, who knew he was coming, either presumed Mattingly knew, or more than likely, didn’t give a damn about who was going to be at Rhine-Main or on the train. Anyway, after he told Hotshot Billy—”

  “Why would Smith tell Hotshot Billy?”

  “They were coconspirators in the Let’s Save a Train for General White business. Wilson told me Smith was disgusted with all the three stars fighting like ten-year-olds over who gets a train, and decided they would get the proper message if two-star White showed up with one.

  “Try to follow my reasoning: Smith told Wilson, expecting that Wilson would . . . as he did . . . spread the word around in the Constabulary. He didn’t tell Mattingly because he figured Mattingly was in the Farben Building and would know. Did Smith tell Greene? I don’t know. Probably not. So if Greene didn’t know, he couldn’t tell Mattingly. And if he did know, he didn’t tell him because he thought he would already have heard.”

  Wallace grunted.

  “General White asked where Mattingly was.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because he asked me where he was.”

  “You were on the train?”

  “Tiny and I just got off it.”

  “As soon as Bob Mattingly hears that you and Tiny were on that train—and he will—you’re the villains, you know that? The master politician will decide he’s been out-politicked by two captains he doesn’t much like anyway. And he’s one ruthless sonofabitch. I’ve seen him in action. Christ, I actually wondered if he wrote that Cronley’s been fucking Mrs. Rachel Schumann letter to Dick Tracy.”

  “If I’m putting you on the spot now, asking for help and don’t tell Mattingly . . .”

  “You are. But after our little chat the other day, I did some thinking of my own.”

  “About what?”

  “About why I’m here running what you so accurately describe as a ‘phony CIC Detachment.’”

  “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Why not? It’s true. So why am I here doing it? Two reasons, the most important probably being that ol’ Bob can throw me to the wolves you mentioned. ‘I’m really surprised that Major Wallace didn’t learn that Cronley was doing black masses, running a brothel, making bootleg whisky, and burying people in unmarked graves at Kloster Grünau. Maybe being a Jedburgh doesn’t really qualify someone to be an intelligence officer.’”

  He looked at Cronley as if expecting a reply, and when none came, went on: “Reason two: If I was in the Farben Building doing what I should be doing . . .”

  “Which is?”

  “Intelligence. Advising Greene. Or maybe General Clay. This may come as a shock to you, but when I was not being a heroic Jedburgh, parachuting behind enemy lines à la Errol Flynn or Alan Ladd, I was a pretty good intelligence officer. A better one than Bob Mattingly. And, while I was wallowing in self-pity, I wondered why I never got a silver leaf, or an eagle. And wondered if it was because good ol’ Bob Mattingly liked me where I was, as a major. I did the work, and he got the credit.”

  Cronley’s mouth went on automatic.

  “If you were good in the OSS, you can bet your ass El Jefe knows it. Which is why—”

  “I’m here running a phony CIC outfit, so that I can step in and replace you when you FUBAR everything?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I thought about that, too, and what I decided to do, Captain Cronley, is make goddamn sure you don’t FUBAR anything. So tell me your problems vis-à-vis getting Mrs. Likharev and her children across a border. I have a little experience in that sort of thing.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Which brings us to Friend Freddy,” Wallace said. “Who has been sitting there like a sponge, soaking all this in.”

  “Sir?”

  “Are you willing to deceive Colonel Mattingly and anyone else who gets in our way? Or are you thinking of some way you can cover your ass?”

  “You have no right to think that about me!” Freddy flared.

  “Correct answer,” Wallace said. “Fortunately for you. I always hate to use the assassination option, even when it’s called for.”

  “So do Cronley and I,” Hessinger said.

  Wallace’s eyebrows rose.

  “One day we’ll have to exchange secrets,” he said. “But not now. Before Brunhilde walks in from wherever she is . . .”

  It took Cronley a moment to realize he was talking about Claudette Colbert.

  “She’s driving Tiny out to Kloster Grünau,” he said.

  “. . . we have to decide about her. Do we bring her into this? Yes or no. If yes, how far? Only so far as needed? Or total immersion? Freddy, you first, you’re junior. If I ask Jim first, you’re liable to go along with whatever he says.”

  “What did you say, ‘total immersion’?” Hessinger said. “Yes. All the way.”

  “May I ask why you have such confidence in the lady?”

  “She has ambitions. We can help her achieve them.”

  “And you don’t think she’d expose us?”

  “No. But even if she did, we’d still have that option you mentioned.”

  “Jim?” Wallace asked.

  “I agree with Freddy.”

  “Tiny, I presume, is a given?” Wallace asked.

  “Captain Dunwiddie has one weakness for our line of work,” Freddy said. “His family, his education at Norwich, has inculcated in him the officer’s honor code.”

  “You’re saying that’s bad?”

  “I’m saying that he might not be able to do some of the things we may have to do.”

  “I’d say we might have to explain to him the necessity of doing some of the things we may have to do,” Cronley said.

  “Well, what’s your call?” Wallace said. “In or out?”

  “In. With that caveat,” Freddy said.

  After a just perceptible hesitation, Cronley said, “In.”

  “That brings us to Ostrowski and Schröder,” Wallace said. “What makes you think that both—or either—are going to volunteer to go along with this?”

  “I think both will, but we need only one volunteer.”

  “You’re not thinking you can carry this off, moving the woman and the two kids, using just one Storch, are you?”

  “No. Two Storchs. One of which I will fly.”

  “And what does Billy Wilson think of that idea?”

  “I think I overcame most of his objections. Most of which centered around both Max and Schröder being more experienced pilots than me.”

  “And?”
/>
  “Tomorrow, I go back to flight school at Sonthofen.”

  “Are you willing to listen to further argument, from other people with experience in this sort of thing?”

  “Who do you have in mind?”

  “Me, for one. And General Gehlen and Colonel Mannberg. I was about to suggest that we invite the general for dinner. By the time he could get here, Brunhilde should be back.”

  “Freddy,” Cronley ordered, “get on the phone and ask General Gehlen if he and Colonel Mannberg will join us for dinner.”

  Hessinger picked up the secure telephone.

  “This brings back many memories,” Wallace said. “Most of them unpleasant, of planning operations like this in London. Specifically, one of the first lessons we learned. Painfully. And that is, unless everyone with a role in an operation knows everything about it, it will almost certainly go wrong.”

  [FOUR]

  Office of the Chief, DCI-Europe

  Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten

  Maximilianstrasse 178

  Munich, American Zone of Occupation, Germany

  1745 17 January 1946

  When Claudette Colbert returned from driving Dunwiddie to Kloster Grünau, Cronley greeted her the moment she closed the door. “Dette, we’re going to have a meeting. I want it to be formal. Set it up in my office. I’ll be at the head of the table. Put General Gehlen at the other end . . .”

  “I get the idea.”

  “Major Wallace will be joining us.”

  “Got it.”

  “And, for the future, as soon as you can, arrange with your former buddies in the ASA to make absolutely sure it’s not bugged, with emphasis on my office.”

  “Done,” she said. “I mean, already done. I arranged for that when I came here. It was last swept just before we went to pick you up at the bahnhof, and they’ll sweep it again at 0500 tomorrow.”

  “Great! You are a woman of amazing talents.”

  “Of all kinds,” she said.

  She looked around the room to make sure no one was looking at her, and then, smiling, stuck her tongue out at him in a manner which she intended to be, and which he interpreted to be, somewhere between naughty and lascivious.