have all the details on yet. But he said that whatever it is, it’s under multilayered security. He got wind of it from an artist in Berlin, a guy named Theo von Frankewitz.”
“Wait.” Michael leaned forward, and Humes-Talbot saw the glint of concentration in his eyes, like the shine of sword metal. “An artist? Why an artist?”
“I don’t know. We can’t dig up any information on Von Frankewitz. So anyway, Adam sent another message eight days ago. It was only a couple of lines long. He said he was bein’ watched, and he had information that had to be brought out of France by personal courier. He had to end the transmission before he could go into detail.”
“The Gestapo?” Michael glanced at Humes-Talbot.
“Our informants don’t indicate that the Gestapo has Adam,” the younger man said. “We think they know he’s one of ours, and have him under constant surveillance. They’re probably hoping he’ll lead them to other agents.”
“So no one else can find out what this information is and bring it out?”
“No sir. Someone from the outside has to go in.”
“And they’re monitoring his radio set, of course. Or maybe they found it and smashed it.” Michael frowned, watching the oakwood burn. “Why an artist?” he asked again. “What would an artist know about military secrets?”
“We have no idea,” Humes-Talbot said. “You see our predicament.”
“We’ve got to find out what the hell’s going on,” Shackleton spoke up. “The first wave of the invasion will be almost two hundred thousand soldiers. By ninety days after D day, we’re plannin’ on having more than one million boys over there to kick Hitler’s ass. We’re riskin’ the whole shootin’ match on one day-one turn of a card-and we’d sure better know what’s in the Nazis’ hand.”
“Death,” Michael said, and neither of the other two men spoke.
The flames crackled and spat sparks. Michael Gallatin waited for the rest of it.
“You’d be flown over France and go in by parachute, near the village of Bazancourt about sixty miles northwest of Paris,” Humes-Talbot said. “One of our people will be at the drop point to meet you. From there, you’ll be taken to Paris and given all the help you need to reach Adam. This is a high-priority assignment, Major Gallatin, and if the invasion’s going to have any chance at all, we’ve got to know what we’re up against.”
Michael watched the fire burn. He said, “I’m sorry. Find someone else.”
“But, sir… please don’t make a hasty-”
“I said I’ve retired. That ends it.”
“Well, that’s just peachy!” Shackleton burst out. “We broke our butts gettin’ here, because we were told by some jackass that you were the best in your business, and you say you’re ‘retired.’ ” He slurred the word. “Where I come from that’s just another way of sayin’ a man’s lost his nerve.”
Michael smiled thinly, which served to infuriate Shackle-ton even more, but didn’t respond.
“Major, sir?” Humes-Talbot tried again. “Please don’t give us your final word now. Won’t you at least think about the assignment? Perhaps we might stay overnight, and we can discuss it again in the morning?”
Michael listened to the noise of sleet against the windows. Shackleton thought of the long road home, and his tailbone throbbed. “You can stay the night,” Michael agreed, “but I won’t go to Paris.”
Humes-Talbot started to speak again, but he decided to let it rest. Shackleton muttered, “Hellfire and damnation!” but Michael only pondered the fires of his own making.
“We brought along a driver,” Humes-Talbot said. “Is there a possibility you might find some room for him?”
“I’ll put a cot in front of the fire.” He got up and went to get the cot from his storage room, and Humes-Talbot left the house to call Mallory in.
While the two men were gone, Shackleton nosed around the den. He found an antique rosewood Victrola, a record
“Wait.” Michael leaned forward, and Humes-Talbot saw the glint of concentration in his eyes, like the shine of sword metal. “An artist? Why an artist?”
“I don’t know. We can’t dig up any information on Von Frankewitz. So anyway, Adam sent another message eight days ago. It was only a couple of lines long. He said he was bein’ watched, and he had information that had to be brought out of France by personal courier. He had to end the transmission before he could go into detail.”
“The Gestapo?” Michael glanced at Humes-Talbot.
“Our informants don’t indicate that the Gestapo has Adam,” the younger man said. “We think they know he’s one of ours, and have him under constant surveillance. They’re probably hoping he’ll lead them to other agents.”
“So no one else can find out what this information is and bring it out?”
“No sir. Someone from the outside has to go in.”
“And they’re monitoring his radio set, of course. Or maybe they found it and smashed it.” Michael frowned, watching the oakwood burn. “Why an artist?” he asked again. “What would an artist know about military secrets?”
“We have no idea,” Humes-Talbot said. “You see our predicament.”
“We’ve got to find out what the hell’s going on,” Shackleton spoke up. “The first wave of the invasion will be almost two hundred thousand soldiers. By ninety days after D day, we’re plannin’ on having more than one million boys over there to kick Hitler’s ass. We’re riskin’ the whole shootin’ match on one day-one turn of a card-and we’d sure better know what’s in the Nazis’ hand.”
“Death,” Michael said, and neither of the other two men spoke.
The flames crackled and spat sparks. Michael Gallatin waited for the rest of it.
“You’d be flown over France and go in by parachute, near the village of Bazancourt about sixty miles northwest of Paris,” Humes-Talbot said. “One of our people will be at the drop point to meet you. From there, you’ll be taken to Paris and given all the help you need to reach Adam. This is a high-priority assignment, Major Gallatin, and if the invasion’s going to have any chance at all, we’ve got to know what we’re up against.”
Michael watched the fire burn. He said, “I’m sorry. Find someone else.”
“But, sir… please don’t make a hasty-”
“I said I’ve retired. That ends it.”
“Well, that’s just peachy!” Shackleton burst out. “We broke our butts gettin’ here, because we were told by some jackass that you were the best in your business, and you say you’re ‘retired.’ ” He slurred the word. “Where I come from that’s just another way of sayin’ a man’s lost his nerve.”
Michael smiled thinly, which served to infuriate Shackle-ton even more, but didn’t respond.
“Major, sir?” Humes-Talbot tried again. “Please don’t give us your final word now. Won’t you at least think about the assignment? Perhaps we might stay overnight, and we can discuss it again in the morning?”
Michael listened to the noise of sleet against the windows. Shackleton thought of the long road home, and his tailbone throbbed. “You can stay the night,” Michael agreed, “but I won’t go to Paris.”
Humes-Talbot started to speak again, but he decided to let it rest. Shackleton muttered, “Hellfire and damnation!” but Michael only pondered the fires of his own making.
“We brought along a driver,” Humes-Talbot said. “Is there a possibility you might find some room for him?”
“I’ll put a cot in front of the fire.” He got up and went to get the cot from his storage room, and Humes-Talbot left the house to call Mallory in.
While the two men were gone, Shackleton nosed around the den. He found an antique rosewood Victrola, a record
Similar Books
