Christopher Reich - The Runner

Donovan took to pacing again. “Problem is Georgie’s got his cards mixed up. It’s Stalin who’s holding all the aces. He has over three million men within fifty miles of the Elbe. Over a million pieces of artillery, too. Meanwhile, we’ve been hightailing our boys out of the European Theatre of Operations as quickly as we can. We pick a fight with Uncle Joe, we could end up back at Dunkirk in sixty days.”

Honey didn’t like Donovan’s brooding. “Even if we couldn’t defeat the Russians, we could hold them in check.”

“Could we? They outnumber us three to one. Their tanks are superior to ours and they have an unlimited supply of manpower.”

“But you’re forgetting something, General.”

“Am I?”

“Our scientists, sir. I mean, they’ve been working on a device for a few years now. You can’t help but pay attention to the scuttlebutt.”

“You don’t miss much, I’ll grant you that.” Donovan pulled a crumpled yellow paper from his jacket pocket which Honey recognized as an intercept of top secret diplomatic wire traffic. “Secretary of War Stimson received this yesterday.”

Honey read the intercept.

Operated on this morning. Diagnosis not complete but results seem satisfactory and already exceed expectations. And skipping ahead, Dr Groves pleased.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“One of those devices you’ve heard about is ‘operational’. A single bomb the equivalent of twenty thousand tons of TNT. The damned thing works!”

Honey tried to figure out what twenty thousand tons of TNT could do. The biggest raids on Berlin and Dresden and Stuttgart, the ones involving two or three hundred bombers, dropped no more than a hundred fifty tons of high explosives on a target. Donovan was talking about a single bomb capable of delivering more than a hundred times that amount. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

“The Savior, indeed,” said Donovan. “This time I think we can safely say God is on our side. Problem is we only have two of them and they’re both headed to Japan. Anything comes up with Stalin in the next ninety days, we’re out of pocket.” Sighing, he rose from his desk and joined Honey at the window. “Which brings us to our last complication, your friend, Major Judge. Last we’ve heard, he’s gone under. Disappeared with Ingrid Bach twenty-four hours ago after calling Third Army Headquarters and asking Paul Harkins for Patton. What do you think he’s up to?”

“That’s easy,” responded Honey. “The same thing we are.”

“Is he capable?”

Honey imagined the determined brow, the quick temper. “Of what? Getting to Berlin? I’d say yes. Of finding Seyss, once he’s there? Maybe.”

Donovan mulled over his answer. “Judge certainly discovered that Seyss was still alive quickly enough. You were right guessing he’d try and use von Luck to identify the body, but you didn’t foresee that he’d bring Ingrid Bach into this. You said he wouldn’t expose the girl to anything dangerous. Why do you suppose he didn’t come to us instead?”

It was an annoying habit of Donovan’s to dissect his men’s thinking, expose their faults, then go right back and ask them for another opinion. “I don’t know,” answered Honey. “Seems he doesn’t trust us.”

“Us? Who’s us? ‘Us’ doesn’t exist. ‘You’, I think, would be more accurate.” Donovan stared at the afternoon sky, wagging a finger at an invisible adversary. “What I really need to know, then, is if Devlin Judge is capable of killing Seyss.”

Honey paused before answering, knowing he was treading on very thin ice. “I’m not sure. Either he’s not as strong as he believes himself to be or he’s holding part of himself in check.”

“So, you’re saying he might, but it wouldn’t come easily. He’d hesitate.”

“Yessir. That’s correct.”

Donovan’s eyes had taken on a dreamy cast. Once, he’d told Honey that his job was not to see the world as it was, but as it would be in an hour’s time. “Hmm,” he whispered. “Maybe that’s good.”

“Sir?”

“Just thinking. Patton wasn’t all wrong, you know?”

Honey stared hard at Donovan, wanting further explanation, but Donovan wasn’t talking. His reverie suddenly broken, he wrapped an arm around Honey’s shoulder and guided him to the door. “We’ve got a plane standing by to fly you to Berlin. There’s no trains running that way, so maybe you’ll pick up some time on Seyss. Al Dulles will pick you up and show you around town, introduce you to some of our contacts. You’re cleared to attend the conference, but don’t expect to get into the actual negotiating sessions. You know where Seyss needs to go to do his job. Keep an eye peeled and it shouldn’t be too hard to spot him. And if you run into Judge, you might want to enlist his help in this thing.”

Honey halted in mid-stride. “You sure? I thought we didn’t want him involved in this any further.”

“We didn’t.” Donovan smiled mischievously and Honey knew he was busy weaving some intricate plot. “But things are different now. Remember, Captain Honnecker, the only constant in our business is change.”

Honey frowned inwardly, wondering when their work had become a business. “And what do I tell him?”

“Why the truth. It’s nothing he doesn’t know already. Just make sure he keeps his mouth shut afterwards.”

Honey cocked his head, not sure he’d heard correctly. “Sir?”

Donovan responded to the pained expression on Honey’s face. “Don’t look so upset. We can’t have anyone besmirching Georgie Patton’s reputation. America does love its heroes.”

Some time toward dawn, Ingrid and Judge left the main road and navigated a series of dirt lanes, ending up in a small wood where they parked the Jeep in a copse of birch trees. The night was silent, the air warm and misted with a fragrant dew. Ingrid was happy for the rest. Her bottom was sore from three hours of hard driving over untended farm roads. They’d stopped twice already, laying up for a quarter of an hour in torn up barns, watching for any sight of Patton’s thugs. An hour ago, they’d met a paved thoroughfare and they’d been on it ever since, passing through the towns of Hochheim and Walldorf.

Shifting in her seat, Ingrid faced her self-appointed savior. She was ready to inform him that she was leaving here and now, that whatever wild intentions he harbored, he could no longer count on her participation, that she missed her son very much, and finally, that she was tired, hungry, and in a most unpleasant mood altogether. But before she could manage a word, he was leaning toward her, one arm beckoning her to come close, his commanding brown eyes imploring her to solve some unspoken misunderstanding.

“Major,” she said, crushing her back against the seat. “I beg your pardon.”

Judge eyed her queerly. “The map,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t reach it. Do you mind?”

Ingrid averted her gaze, embarrassed at her misperception, though not as relieved as she’d expected. Reaching beneath her seat, she found a well creased map. Judge unfolded it, using her lap as well as his own as a table.Damn him for not asking, she cursed silently. There were numbers scribbled everywhere: this army, that corps, compass headings, phone numbers, she couldn’t tell what. The only legible marks on the whole bloody thing were the fat black lines dividing her country into four pieces.

“We’ve got to get to Berlin as quickly as possible,” he said, finger already tracing some imaginary course. “That’s where he’s headed.”

“Go,” she said. “But don’t expect me to come with you. I have a family. Pauli must be worried sick about me.”