furniture, three upright lawn chairs and a white wroughtiron table. It was a pastoral enclave for private meditation or confidential meetings. And seated in the far chair, his blond hair catching the irregular light of the lanterns, was Gfinter jAger, the new hibrer. At the sight of his old friend, he rose and held out his arms, immediately lowering his left and extending his right hand.
"How good of you to come, Hans."
"I requested the meeting, Gunter."
"Drivel. You don't need to request anything of me, you simply say what you want. Sit down, sit down. Can I get you something, a drink perhaps?"
"No, thank you. I want to get back to Nuremberg as soon as I can. The un intercepted messages keep my telephone ringing."
"Unintercepted? .. . Oh, yes, the scramblers."
"Exactly. You have the same."
"Do l?"
"Different channels perhaps, but whatever I learn you should know also."
"That said and agreed to, what is so urgent, my good doctor? "
"How much do you know of the recent events in Paris?"
"Everything, I trust."
"Gerhardt Kroeger?"
"Shot to death by the Americans in that mess at the Hotel InterContinental. Good riddance; he never should have gone to Paris."
"He felt he had a mission to complete."
"What mission?"
"The death of Harry Latham, the CIA officer who penetrated the valley and was exposed by Kroeger."
"We'll find him, not that it matters," said jAger.
"The valley no longer exists."
"But you're convinced Gerhardt Kroeger is dead."
"It was in the report forwarded to Bonn Intelligence by our embassy. In those circles, it's common knowledge, although they're burying it because they don't care to throw a spotlight on us."
"A report, if I'm not mistaken, that originated at the American Embassy."
"Presumably. They knew Kroeger was one of us-how could they not know? The stupid pig started shooting up the place believing he could kill this Latham. However, the Americans didn't learn anything, he died on his way to their embassy."
"I see," said Hans Traupman, shifting his body in the chair, only sporadically glancing at Gunter Jdger as if he were pained to engage his new Fzihrer's eyes.
"And our Sonnenkind, Janine Clunitz, wife of the American ambassador?"
"We hardly needed our penetrators to learn what happened, Hans. It was in all the newspapers in Europe and America and everywhere else, confirmed by witnesses. She narrowly escaped an ambush by Israeli extremists out to kill Courtland over what they called an "Arabist' State Department. He was wounded and, unfortunately, our Sonnenkind Clunitz survived. She'll be dead in a day or so, I've been assured of that."
"Finally, Gunter-mein hihrer-"
"I told you before, Hans, between us that's not required."
"I require it of myself. You are far more than the gangster from Munich ever was. You are highly educated, historically grounded, and ideologically positioned by what is happening, not only in Germany, but in all countries. The ill born, the unworthy, and the mediocre are assuming positions of power in governments everywhere, and you understand that this destructive trend must stop. You can bring this about .. . mein Fuhrer."
"Thank you, Hans, but you Were saying?
"Finally'what?"
"This man Latham, the deep-cover Central Intelligence officer who penetrated the valley and was exposed by Gerhardt Kroeger-"
"What about him?" interrupted Jdger.
"He's still alive. He's better than we thought."
"He's only a man, Hans. Flesh and blood and with a heart muscle that can be stopped, punctured with a bullet or a knife. I've authorized two units of Blitzkrieger to fly to Paris and accomplish the task. They won't fail. They dare not fail."
"And the woman he lives with?"
"The De Vries whore?" asked the new Fahrer.
"She must be killed with him-or before him, preferably. Her sudden death will unnerve him, cause him to be more vulnerable; he'll make mistakes. . Is all this what you've come to tell me, Hans?"
"No, GUnter," said Traupman, getting up from the chair and pacing between the shadows and the glare of the two lanterns.
"I've come to tell you the truth, as I've perceived the truth through my own sources."
"Your own sources?"
"No different from yours, I assure you, but I'm an old man whose training is in the nuts and bolts of surgery, and all too frequently patients skirt around their symptoms, frightened by my diagnoses if they were totally honest. Eventually, you learn to understand a degree of self deceiving falsity."
"Please be clearer."
"I shall, and I'll support what I say by my own inquiries.. ..
Gerhardt Kroeger did not die. I suspect he's alive and a prisoner in the American Embassy."
"What?" jdger shot forward in his chair.
"I sent one of our people to