Kent sat in the first class club car, a scotch and soda in his hand, and gazed out the window as the green landscape swept by, dotted with small lakes and streams. Mountain peaks stood out in the distance, the late afternoon sun reflecting off their snow covered tops. His lids fluttered until the scenery rushing by blurred, and he set down his drink and settled deeper into the seat. He remembered the picture in his pocket and pulled out the manila envelope, bending back the metal clips that sealed it to retrieve a black and white photograph with touches of color brushed on. Looking down at the picture Kent saw the image of a stunning young woman, the lips full and red and the eyes sultry and somehow mesmerizing. She looked familiar and as he stared, Kent was sure he had seen her before but could not think of where. He replaced the picture, stowed the envelope back in his jacket, took another sip of scotch and leaned back once more into the well padded seat, staring out the window and thinking about the face on the picture. His eyes started to shut again and just before dozing off he remembered where he had seen that face. The woman at the rail along the strand in Lugano was Waldman's agent. Was that of any significance, he wondered. The answer never came, only the click clack of the rails lulling him to sleep as the train sped to Bern through the darkening landscape.
When he got back to Bern it was after the dinner hour but he went directly to the building on Herrengasse hoping to find Julian there so he could report the events of the day. He was surprised to find Victoria still at her desk, but she brushed aside his questions saying only that Dulles had asked her to take care of a few things for him and, in response to his inquiry about Julian, replied, "He's still in his office." Kent two stepped it up the stairs, knocked on Templeton's door, then entered and sat down in the chair across from the large desk, constructed, like much of the other furnishings, of some dark wood with various carvings. Aside from the desk and two comfortable chairs, one occupied by a slightly out of breathe Kent Mallory, the room was fairly Spartan. A picture of Julian alone by some lake with a snow covered mountain in the background hung on the wall as the only adornment, with no indication of where or when it had been taken, and one might wonder who was on the other side of the camera and what significance the place held for Julian. There was nothing in the small office to offer any insight into the man who occupied it, where they called home, their likes, their family; not even a name to attach to the person who sat behind the desk, and that was precisely the intention of the resident. He could be whoever he wanted to any contact or visitor who sat opposite him, and that included the current young man sitting across from him, anxious to tell his tale, for although Kent knew Julian's name and something of his government service, he actually knew hardly anything about the man, his aspirations, what he was about or even the real details of the plan he had spawned. Kent was fed what he needed to know, or more accurately, what Templeton wanted him to know.
Julian looked up when Kent entered, held up a finger to silence him while he finished jotting something down in an open notebook, then looked up and said, "OK, so what did Herr General have for us that was so important?"
Kent reviewed their meeting, including his concerns about General Schroeder and Waldman's response. He then produced the manila envelope, laying the photograph on the desk for Templeton to see. "The recognition code needs to be added to the back of it. She is one good-looking Nazi who, by the way, was hanging out around the café. I noticed her on the way from the station, about a hundred meters from where we met; you can't help noticing someone so damned cute, but I had no idea who she was until I looked at the picture in the train on the way back."
"If she's a friend of Waldman's I don't think the word 'cute' would be the adjective I'd use to describe her. She was keeping a lookout for him, making sure we didn't try to pull a fast one on him. It's good to know who he works with. Nice going, Kent. And you are certainly right about her being one fucking good-looking Teutonic bitch. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't mind getting up close and trying some of my own 'goose steps' on her."
"Speaking of which, how'd your date go with Victoria?"
He glanced over to make sure the door was closed before replying, "My dick is still sore. She fucks like she was brought up in the gutter. I knew under her prim English exterior she was a whore at heart."
"Whoa, what about 'a gentleman never tells'?"
"That's only if you don't nail them. Besides, that weren't no lady, pardner. But enough of my sexual conquests, let's get on with business. We don't have anything yet from Schroeder, but I would expect to be getting some sort of package from him any day now. One of his officers has acted as a courier before and he knows how to find me. When I get the picture of his girl and the code, I'll make the switch and take it to the field agent myself."
"Good. I hope you don't mind me talking to Waldman about Schroeder; I just thought he might be trouble."
"No, you're right, he certainly could be. Let's see what our General comes up with."
"OK then. I'm heading back to the apartment. All this traveling is exhausting. Good night. Stud."
Julian smiled good naturedly until the door closed behind Kent, then he sighed softly, sucked on his lower lip in thought while he drummed his fingers on the desk top. After a few minutes he picked up an intercom phone and pressed a switch. Victoria's voice sounded in his ear, "Yes Mr. Templeton?"
"Before you come over tonight would you stop by the station and get me a ticket on the early train to Lugano tomorrow so I could tie up some loose ends. This is work related and the usual discretion and precaution will be needed. However, Victoria, your visit will not be work related although the greatest of discretion will nonetheless be involved, especially when it comes to me having to stop myself from shouting to all of Bern how wonderful you are. I'll have a nice bottle of wine waiting."
"Thank you, Mr. Templeton. I shall look forward to it."
* *
During the train ride to Lugano Julian mostly slept. The night before had been later than he wanted, but the sex with Vickie was so intense he could not pass up the opportunity even if it meant only a few hours rest before he had to leave for the station. He made sure she was out of the apartment when he left so he could lock it, kissed her goodbye at the front door and was fortunate enough to find a taxi almost immediately. When he boarded, Julian asked the conductor to wake him 15 minutes before arrival so he would have time for some cold water to the face and a quick cup of coffee. By the time the train came to a stop in Lugano, he felt alert and ready for his meeting with SS General Gerhard Waldman.
The trip back seemed shorter than the outbound journey even though he had slept most of the way to Lugano. Returning to Bern his mind was in high gear, and although he had had little sleep in the last 24 hours, Julian was evaluating his conversation with Gerhard, going over plans, changes in plans and contingencies, oblivious to any fatigue. Waldman was an efficient, calculating, strategic planner. Like Julian, he was a believer in leaving nothing to chance and was willing to do not only what was necessary, but what was most expedient to accomplish his objectives. He was, perhaps, more ruthless than Julian, but his situation was more desperate. Templeton thought they could be a great team or worthy adversaries. He was still not sure which it was to be.
"Bern. Bern in five minutes," the conductor called as he walked through the club car.
As Julian detrained he realized that he would have to make some revisions to his basic plan, that is, the plan that involved Waldman. It would have several possible permutations, some known to Gerhard, others Julian's private contingencies. Moreover, it would be very difficult for him to control the ebb and flow of the mission once it was set in motion since information from the field would be negligible and he would have little real time control. It would take extreme finesse and intricate planning, a challenge that he welcomed, the culmination of his career and the beginning of his life as an expatriate. There were contacts in Munich and also a few along the route from the north shore of the lake, he thought. People who might be able t
o analyze the situation and initiate certain predetermined actions depending on what they find. Of course most of them are simply thugs that I've hired from time to time. Except for our man in Munich; he could be useful. Templeton turned the possibilities over in his mind, especially the reliability of the personnel. He had to use those he trusted, on whose judgment he could count, for even though he would send them a simple algorithm, he was experienced enough to know that in the field, expediency often dictated unplanned actions and decisions. And on those choices, especially as to which of the players were killed, his fortunes might rise or fall. Julian wanted every possible outcome to be a winner for him but he was too realistic to believe that even he could arrange that. He knew that as a fallback position the best he could hope for was for the mission to end without him being incriminated in any wrong doing and for all the other personnel in his scheme to die in the line of duty or in some unfortunate mishap. Walking back to his apartment the accumulated fatigue of the day caught up with him and thoughts of operational planning were replaced by a desire to slip quietly into bed and lose himself to the anodyne of sleep. Tomorrow he would give his full attention to the final, crucial details. The original operation, the one known to the members of the OSS team, would be presented to Dulles pretty much unchanged from its first conception.
* *
Templeton was at his desk early in the morning before most of the others had arrived, including Vickie, which saved him the effort of the charade that he was smitten by her, and was able to work until almost midday before anyone interrupted him. That distraction was in the form of Mallory sticking his head in the door and asking, "Do we need to get together?"
"I'm just working on some details. Why don't we go to lunch in about an hour."
"I'll be in my office; just stop by." He pulled the door closed as his torso, which had been protruding into the room, receded into the hallway. If he wondered about Julian's whereabouts the day before, he kept it to himself. It was not considered proper to ask those kinds of questions, and even if he had, the inquiry would have yielded only dissimulation.
Julian opened the top drawer of his desk and removed a plain white envelope that the duty officer had given him when he arrived that morning, saying "A young man left this for you about 5 AM, Mr. Templeton. He seemed to be in quite a rush but was very emphatic that I should hand this over to you directly upon seeing you, and said you were expecting it. I've seen him before, dropping off something else; a courier I assume, and military by his bearing." Templeton had opened the envelope as soon as he reached his office, briefly glancing at the contents before placing it in his desk. He now extracted the single picture that was the only item inside, held it between thumb and forefinger and stared at the waist-up image of an attractive young woman with large eyes that seemed to radiate a smile to the same degree as did her mouth and enticing lips, turned up at the corners, seemingly on the verge of laughing. Her skin had a smooth dark complexion that spoke of a Mediterranean origin and her closely cropped hair was worn parted and brushed to the side, imparting a boyish look, although the well formed, breasts and delicate waist precluded anyone from mistaking her for anything other than a woman that any man would find most desirable. This was Maria, General Schroeder's ward, girlfriend, concubine or whatever word might be used to describe a relationship that was not entirely clear to Julian, but obviously was of great importance to Schroeder. Julian flipped the picture over and read the first of two sentences printed neatly on the back, "I have often admired you." A single line had been drawn below this. There followed, "I hope you still have the picture my mother gave you." He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, which he had hung over his chair, took out the photograph that Waldman had given Kent in Lugano and copied the recognition code and response onto the back. When he was finished he held up both pictures and stared at the two women. They both looked beautiful; a man would have no difficulty fantasizing about making love to either one of them. But there was a difference. Gerhard's lady had an edge about her, a hard look that said "Don't mess with me!" He imagined that she would try to be dominant in sex as well as in all her endeavors, that in her lay the capacity for the unusual, the extreme and the daring. She made you afraid yet, at the same time, there was an irresistible attraction about her. Maria, no less attractive, had a soft sensuality that one could see in her almost pouting lips and in her eyes with their sultry lids and long lashes. She would be no quick tumble in bed; no purveyor of sex that became a contest of wills. It would take commitment and patience, the development of a relationship and mutual trust before she could give herself to a man. But, he thought, when she did, she would surrender herself completely, in a way that Eva would find both incomprehensible and unattainable.
Julian sighed at the choices that life forced on one. Putting down one of the pictures he struck a match, and with the pungent odor of sulfur in his nostrils he touched the flame to the photograph of Maria, held gingerly in his hand, arm extended over the metal trash can, and watched while the paper blackened and writhed as the fire enveloped and consumed the lovely image until, just before the flame reached his fingers, he dropped the burning ashes into the trash.
He grabbed his jacket, pulled on his coat and left his office with the last wisps of smoke still curling slowly in the still air. Down the hall Kent's door was ajar, nothing of much importance going on there. Julian slowly shook his head at what he considered the general incompetence of so many with whom he had to work, and included in his thoughts was just a twinge of remorse for Kent, a fleeting reflection and the barest touch of sadness. "Hey there, ready for some lunch?"
"Sure. Where do you want to go?"
"The 'Alpine' won't be crowded now, we can talk in one of the booths in the back"
At the first sound of Julian's voice Kent had stood up and was now almost out the door, his coat in hand. They walked in silence, along the hall, down the steps and out the front door, a brief nod to Vickie the only acknowledgement to any of the other workers. Cold air and a gray sky greeted them and neither spoke as they covered the two blocks to the café at a brisk pace. When they arrived at the 'Alpine' the headwaiter greeted them as regular customers, and knowing their sometime desire for privacy motioned them to sit wherever they liked. Wasting no time, Templeton began talking as soon as they sat down, beginning with an explanation of how Kent had to show the field agent the picture of Eva, that was the name Waldman had used at their meeting the day before, and tell him it was the picture of Maria that General Schroeder has sent. He was to memorize the face on the picture and the code written on the back. Proper tradecraft dictated that the photograph had to be destroyed immediately thereafter. Julian impressed this on his young protégé, making sure that he understood that it was to be done right after the agent had studied it, and that no one else was to see it. "You also need to memorize the codes and transmit them to Waldman. I'm sorry but you'll have to make one more trip to Lugano. Do the final briefing of the field agent first."
"I'll do what needs to be done. What else?"
Templeton knew what he was fishing for. He was so pitifully easy to read and his concern for the OSS operative who would do the retrieval was obvious. Giving Kent the assurance his conscience was looking for, Julian explained that Gerhard's people would retrieve the plutonium before the agent would be able to get there. They would leave sufficient contrived evidence to make it apparent that someone had removed the material sometime in the past. The operation would be only one more of the many failed plans, schemes and plots that were generated during the war and no one would ever know what they had done. The only really successful con was the one that the victim never found out about. Once he was free of the obligation to collect the plutonium it should not be overly difficult for the agent to make his way to one of the extraction points and to safety. The girl might present a problem but that would have to be dealt with by the agent. Fielder's choice.
During the explanation, Kent nodded his head from time to time and generally seem
ed pleased with what he was hearing and probably with what he considered to be his role in saving the life of a young American. Because people are so willing to believe in something that provides hope, Kent was oblivious to all the improbabilities of what he was being told, and simply basked in the relief it provided for a guilty conscience. Julian realized that in reality so many of their past successes had been even more implausible than the scenario he was now proposing, but the fantasy he was telling Kent, which Kent swallowed hook, line and sinker, had no chance of success for the simple reason that it would never be set in motion; it was not the way he had orchestrated the piece. No matter. He needed Mallory. For the moment.
"Buy a ticket for the day after tomorrow, that should give you enough time. Pay for it yourself. Tell no one; we're at a critical point."
"Consider it done."
"Your meeting there will not be at the usual café; it's too risky to use the same place so often. When you leave the train just walk as if you're going there and someone will contact you."
"OK."
The waiter, who had kept a respectful distance up until this point, approached the table with the unerring knowledge of a true professional that the delicate issues had been discussed and thoughts would now turn to food and wine. A nice bottle of wine was suggested, purchased just the other day along with several crates of vegetables from across the border in France, and they both chose a platter of cheeses and thin slices of ham to accompany it along with a generous portion of crusty bread for each of them. The conversation, at least on Kent's part, became more animated because he felt that a great weight had been lifted from him and words flowed from his mouth with an easy abandon that he hadn't known for many months. He spoke of plans for after the war, and although no mention was made of money or a pay off, a newfound source of funds was implicit in what he said. Templeton listened, tight lipped, occasionally mumbling some appropriate comment so it would seem that nothing was amiss, a precaution that was, in fact, not necessary since Kent Mallory was completely blinded by the light he saw at the end of his own personal tunnel.
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