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Cold water splashing over his face brought Larry back to
consciousness, a condition he didn't relish since with it came pain, pain from
every quarter of his body. Instinctively his hand went first to his head where
it encountered a large, exquisitely tender lump, seemingly the size of a golf
ball and surfaced by hair matted with dried blood. The fact that the blood was
dried and congealed told him the rain had stopped earlier than the bleeding,
but he was thankful that at least it wasn't currently bleeding, and the
downpour had ceased. When he tried to sit up, an ice pick rammed through his
head and he had to lower it to the ground. The best way to proceed, he thought,
was to mobilize and check his body limb by limb and system by system. Arms,
legs, each appeared to respond to his commands with the proper movements,
albeit painful.
Nothing broken; thank God for that.
His vision seemed
fine and he assumed his nervous system had suffered no significant injury.
Lastly, he gently and slowly lifted his head from the ground once more, tensing
himself for pain. It came, but not to the extent of before, and he was able to
raise himself to a sitting position, where, panting and coughing occasionally,
he took stock of the situation. The bike had come to rest just above where he
lay, which was at the edge of the rushing rain-swollen creek, its icy waters
having slapped him back to consciousness. It was twisted like some grotesque
sculpture of a deranged artist and was beyond repair. Of his pack there was no
sign. He slowly and unsteadily got to his feet, carefully stretched and flexed
his muscles, then began a slow exploration of the ravine, heading downstream.
The bike would have to stay where it was. It was unlikely to be discovered, and
even if it was, would probably mean nothing to whoever found it here in this
relatively remote part of the woods. After fifteen minutes he came upon the
rucksack snagged on a dead branch protruding into the creek. Turning it over,
muddy water flowed out along with the remnants of some of the food, the bottle
that contained his pills and a small dead frog. The remains of the food were
inedible, and the bottle contained only a white cloudy liquid, all that was
left of his medicine. Beams of sunlight slanted down through the forest cover
from a clearing blue sky, and if the morning sun brought with it a degree of
warmth, it did little to brighten his spirits. All he had left was an empty
pack, a small penknife that had managed to stay secure in his pants pocket and
a few soggy German marks.

Halfway up the side of the ravine he noticed an outcropping
of large rocks beneath a protruding boulder, the formation flanked on both
sides by a cluster of bushes that provided additional cover. He reached the
location after ten minutes of carefully scampering up the still muddy dirt
walls, and stripped off his clothes, laying them to dry on the rocks. Although
the air was still chilly, the sun felt good, and he lay there for a time
allowing his body to dry off before covering himself with shrubs for warmth,
and falling asleep.

Maria Müller was putting on her scarf by the front door of her
apartment, looking in the mirror that hung on the wall, when she heard a noise
like someone twisting the doorknob. Turning to look she did see that the handle
was, in fact, turning and instinctively took a step back although, in truth,
she was not particularly scared. After all, it was known in the neighborhood
that she was the goddaughter and ward of a General in the Wehrmacht, and
everyone had always been kind to her and shown her the greatest of respect.
However, when the tip of a metallic blade appeared in the doorjamb and the door
was thrown open, followed by three soldiers rushing in, she dropped her purse
and scarf and emitted a startled exclamation. Two of the soldiers grabbed her
under the arms, one on each side, while Maria, showing remarkable aplomb,
immediately began to protest. "What are you doing? How dare you touch me!
I am under the protection of General Heinrich Schroeder." At this, the two
privates hesitated a moment, their grips loosening slightly, but sharp words
from the sergeant that accompanied them made them hold her even more tightly
and drag her from the apartment. "You mustn't do this. I am General
Schroeder's goddaughter." Her feet barely touched the floor as she crossed
the threshold. In the hall she saw an attractive dark haired woman waiting to
enter. Maria turned to her. "Who are you? What is going on?" Other
protestations followed but slowly faded as she was dragged down the hall, one
shoe falling off just before the stairs, and carried kicking and screaming into
a waiting staff car, the small Nazi flags mounted on the fenders fluttering in
a morning breeze. As for her friends and neighbors, well, there was a limit to
what one could protest, or even notice for that matter. Brusquely tossed into
the back seat where two other soldiers waited to subdue her if necessary, Maria
finally felt bone numbing fear as the car sped off.

The sergeant bent down and picked up the dropped purse and
scarf, handing the latter to Eva as she sauntered into the room. She held it to
her nose, closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, a smile on her face, then
casually hung it over her shoulder before taking the purse now offered to her.
Opening it, she quickly rummaged through the contents before turning it upside
down and emptying it over a trash can. She turned the purse in her fingers,
looking at one side then the other, then tossed it in the can, too. "Put
my luggage in the bedroom, sergeant." He nodded then went to the door
where he motioned to two soldiers waiting outside standing next to several
bags. They double timed into the apartment, deposited Eva's belongings in the
bedroom and promptly retreated, taking up positions in the hall on either side
of the entrance. Ignoring the sergeant as well as his men, she perused the
small apartment for a moment then strolled through the main room that served as
both sitting room and dining area with a small kitchen off to one side. She
poked her head into the bedroom and the generous bathroom, which stood just
outside the entrance. It had a large tub with a recently added showerhead
protruding from the wall and a rather ornate vanity and sink leftover, she
thought, from some prior occupant. A woman's instinct combined with her astute
powers of observation told her that Maria was a plain and simple no frills kind
of girl, although she had to admit that she was very attractive. At this
thought she lifted the scarf absentmindedly and once more inhaled the scent of
the young woman she had just displaced, before walking into the bedroom where
she began opening drawers. She quickly surveyed the contents and opened the
single small closet, also examining the clothes there. After a moment's
thought, Eva removed various items and tossed them on the floor, pausing now
and then to take stock before stepping back, satisfied and calling out,
"Sergeant, get your men to remove all the items on the floor in
here." Without waiting for a reply she walked back to the sitting room.
Continuing her circumnavigation she came to a table with a picture of Maria and
Heinrich. She picked it up and looked closely as if trying to extract from the
lifeless images within the frame the essence of those depicted. Finally, Eva
lowered the picture and, still holding it, finished her brief tour, running a
finger across this table top or the back of that chair and ending up at the
front door next to the sergeant where she unceremoniously dropped the picture in
the trash can.

"Will there be anything else?" he said, sounding
more like a hotel bellman than a member of the SS.

"Empty the trash on your way out." She turned on
her heels and walked into the bedroom to unpack.

Later that night Waldman stopped by to tell Eva that the
American agent had crossed into Germany the day before. "It should take
him no more than three days to get here, maybe less, especially if he's able to
get a ride or commandeer some sort of vehicle, so you must be in the persona of
Maria."

"And what sort of persona would that be, dear
Gerhard?" she said with lilting sarcasm.

"You must take this seriously. I've given you her
dossier, you've seen her in person and I know your talents so I'm sure you've
figured out what type of woman she is. And if you need any more information
about her call the number I gave you and ask for Sergeant Bloch to pick you up;
he will take you to where she is being held."

She walked up to Gerhard and put an arm around his waist.
"This agent is a man, yes?"

"Of course."

She reached down and cupped his buttocks. "Then what
are you worrying about, my sweet?"

"Sometimes you are exasperating." Forcibly, and
against resistance, he removed her hand while continuing, "He will no
doubt be asking you questions, wanting to know where a particular item is or
asking you to take him to a location that he will identify in some way that has
meaning for Maria and no one else. It is Schroeder's way of insuring that his
young lady is not bypassed. You must put him off until you find out the proper
information from Maria. My men will be with her if you need help convincing
her; but somehow I think you will make a most persuasive interrogator."

"Speaking of 'persuasion', dear General Gerhard, do you
think I can persuade you to stay for a while?" She stood directly in front
of him, and slipping an arm around his waist again pulled him tightly against
her while she reached up with the other hand and tugged on his tie until he
lowered his face to meet her lips in crushing defeat and total surrender.

He barely had time to verbalize his agreement before the
onslaught began.

"What the hell do you mean you don't know where he is?"

"We met three days ago to finalize plans before the
field agent left. Wrapped things up at the 'Alpine' over lunch, then parted at
the entrance when we were finished. He said he was going to take a walk, then
attend to the final tasks he had —— going to Altstatten for a final
briefing of the agent and checking the arrangements for the contingency
extraction routes."

Dulles was fuming. Julian remained calm and tried to look
contrite without giving the appearance that the operation had gotten away from
him. "What have you done to track him? Do you think he went over?"

"I'm working on it. I wasn't concerned until yesterday
afternoon. Figured he might have slept in after returning, extended his time
off from the previous day just a bit. After we determined he wasn't in his
apartment, and nothing in it gave the appearance that he had moved out or left
for any extended period, I checked with the police and the hospitals. Nothing
there, but he did buy a ticket at the station sometime after we finished lunch
the prior day."

"To where? And don't tell me 'Germany.'"

"Lugano. It was the morning train to Lugano."

"That's where you said he met with Schroeder. Did he
have any unfinished business there?"

"None. He had completed all the arrangements."
Dulles didn't have any personal knowledge of the specific details of the
planning and was unaware that although Kent did, in fact, meet with Schroeder
in Lugano on one occasion, it was the only time he had gone there for that
purpose. About Waldman, of course, he had no knowledge.

"There's nothing that could have come up to require
another meeting?"

"Anything would have gone through me."

"Can we get in touch with Schroeder?"

"He's back in Italy. Communication is slow and spotty
at best."

Dulles let out a loud sigh. "We have to assume the
mission has been compromised. How well did he know the operation?"

"Well enough to interdict it at a variety of points to
his own advantage."

"Damage control?"

"There's no way to get a message to the agent in time
to be of any use. We can and will talk to those involved in the extraction but
the danger will come before then."

"Try to get word to him anyway. If things get delayed
maybe it will get there in time to help him."

"I can also put out word on the network to all of the
people we have out there but that can cause a lot of confusion ——
which agent is the good agent, so to speak —— and may make matters
worse for him."

"Just try what you can with direct links. Don't
broadcast anything yet; it may make chances of retrieval of the plutonium worse
than they are."

"I'll get on it right away." Julian rose to leave.

"And I expect frequent updates, even if it's just to
tell me you still know jack shit."

Ignoring the sarcasm, Julian nodded agreement to the order,
a sober look on his face as he gently closed the door to the room. His
expression remained the same while he turned into the hall and walked the short
distance to his own office. Inside, he closed the door and sat down at his
desk, leaning back in his chair, deep in thought, as he pondered the next move
in the chess game that was now underway. None of the meetings between Mallory
and Waldman had been of any consequence, Kent serving merely as a courier and,
more importantly, as someone being set up to be the fall guy, the disgraced OSS
agent who would be conveniently eliminated once the blame had settled squarely
on his shoulders but before interrogators could wrest the truth from him. Their
last meeting, however, had no doubt been of great consequence, he thought,
especially for Mallory who, he was fairly certain, had been killed by Waldman.
Premature as far as Julian was concerned, and introducing an unexpected
complication.

Later that day, in the early evening, Mary Bancroft appeared
at Dulles's private apartments as she had been doing once a week for some time
now. When he opened the door, there stood before him an attractive woman in her
late thirties, poised in her bearing, with an intelligent look and bright,
inquisitive eyes. Allen held the door aside while she entered, then glanced
outside briefly before shutting it and helping her off with her coat, lightly
kissing the back of her neck as he did so.