“Oh, come on, Jimmy,” the duchess said. “That’s unfair!” “Hey,” Whittaker said.
“You’re supposed to be my girl. You keep taking his side, Ann’ll come after you with an ax.”
“No, I won’t, “Ann said. “Anybody on Dick’s side is on my side.”
“Will you watch your mouth!” the duchess said to Whittaker. But she reached her hand out and rubbed the balls of her fingers over the back of his hand.
There was no question about it. Whittaker was emotionally involved with the duchess, and the duchess was a married woman. And she didn’t really care much who knew about it. He told himself that it was none of his business, yet he wondered what Colonel Stevens, who must know, thought of it.
And then he wondered what Colonel Stevens wanted to tell Canidy and Fine.
Stevens, Canidy, and Fine went by elevator to the fifth floor of the hotel, then into a suite guarded by an American wearing a uniform with civilian technician insignia. Inside the suite, Stevens led them into a small study.
He took a manila envelope from his briefcase, and a page of a newspaper from the envelope. He laid it on a table.
“That came in an hour or so ago from Sweden,” he said.
“You’re not going to ask how things went at Horsham St. Faith?” Canidy asked.
“Eighth Air Force called and said the mission was accomplished,” Stevens said. “Is there something I don’t know?”
“I was at Horsham St. Faith when the photo recon plane returned,” Canidy said icily.
“I didn’t know that,” Stevens said, evenly.
“It was pretty badly shot up. The copilot brought it back, but he dumped it on landing. The pilot died in the ambulance. Probably that was best. He had a large chunk of steel in his head. He would have been a vegetable anyway.”
“Jesus, Dick!” Fine said.
“Dick, you can’t think that you’re in any way responsible,” Stevens said.
“No, of course not. The Good Fairy ordered that recon mission.
Not me.”
“It was necessary,” Stevens said.
“I should have flown it,” Canidy said. “Not some kid who graduated from high school last year. Some kid with maybe a hundred fifty hours total time.”
“You know why that’s out of the question,” Stevens said.
“Tell that to the kid’s mother,” Canidy said. “I say’ mother’ because he didn’t look old enough to have a wife.”
“Like you, Dick,” Stevens said, “he was a volunteer. And we could afford to send him.” Canidy looked at him for a long minute.
“Was it Lorimer’s idea that I couldn’t go, Colonel,” he asked, “or yours?”
“Mine,” Stevens said. “If that angers you, I’m sorry.” Canidy nodded. Visibly changing the subject, he went to the newspaper Stevens had taken from the envelope and looked at it. Then he pointed his index finger.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “Our old pal Helmut Shitfitz.” Stevens chuckled. He was relieved that Canidy was going to let his unhappiness about the B-26 pilot drop.
“What’s it say, Stan?” Canidy asked, handing the clipping to Fine.
“It’s the Frankfurter Rundschau,” Fine translated. “Of December 30.
The caption says’ Dignitaries gathered at the memorial service for Oberstleutnant Baron von Steighofen. It lists them. One of them is von Heurten-Mitnitz.
And Eric’s father. And our friend Muller, who is now a Standartenfuhrer, it would seem.”
“What’s a Standartenfuhrer?” Canidy asked.
“Colonel,” Fine said. “The SS organization comparable to a regiment is a stan dart. Standartenfuhrer, regiment leader.”
“You think that they went to see Eric’s father?” Canidy said.
“That they got the postcard, in other words, and are still with us?” “Muller spent New Year’s Eve,” Stevens said, “–spent all night in the Kurhotel on New Year’s Eve–with Gisella Dyer.”
“The professor’s wife?” Canidy asked incredulously.
“The professor’s daughter,” Stevens corrected him.
“How do you know that?”
“The British have an agent in Marburg.
There’s a fighter base outside.
We asked him to keep an eye on the professor. He thought this was interesting, and sent it along.”
“They’re watching Dyer for us?” Canidy asked, surprised.
“No. Not the way you suggest. If they fall into something, they pass it along if they can. He must have been at the hotel and thought Dyer’s daughter’s association with a Sicherheitsdienst colonel might interest us. But our English brothers have made it clear that what we’ve gotten is all we’re going to get. No more help from them from their guy in Marburg, in other words.” Canidy took that in and gave it a moment’s thought. “Okay,” he said, “so what do we do now?”