she thought still thinks we both a little strange."
"Because of your professions?"
"Hell no, she doesn't know what they are, and Dad's smart enough not to tell her. She's convinced we're somewhere in the ranks of the State Department, traveling all over the world for months at a time, and why aren't we both married so she can spoil her grandchildren."
"A natural concern, I'd say."
"Not for two sons in an unnatural, profession."
"However, Harry did allow that you were very strong and quite intelligent."
"Quite intelligent? .. . jealousy again. I got extra money on my college scholarship because of my prep school hockey-he fell on his ass on a pair of skates."
"You're joking again."
"No, not that part, it's real. "
"You had scholarships?"
"We had to. Our father was a Ph.D. in archeology, and all it brought him were digs from Arizona to the old Iraq.
The National Geographic Society and the Explorers' Club id for the travels but not for the wife and kids. When pal I those movies came out, Harry and I used to laugh and say to hell with the "Lost Ark," where were the kids of Indiana Jones?"
"The frame of reference is beyond me, although I recognize the academic aspect."
"Our father had tenure, so we weren't broke, but we certainly weren't rich, barely middle-class well-off. We had to get scholarships.. .. Now, you've heard my life story, and I've heard more than I care to hear about your husband .. . what about you?
Where are you coming from-out of the woodwork, Mrs. de Vries?"
"It's not relevant-"
"Yes, you said that before and I don't buy it. Before you go much further in the embassy, especially in D and R, you'd better make it clear."
"You don't believe a word I've told you
"I believe the surface, what Witkowski confirmed, but beyond that I'm not sure."
"Then you can go to the devil, monsieur." Karin de Vries started sliding across the booth to get up, when the inebriated waiter approached.
"Is there anyone here named Latham?" he asked.
"Latham? Yes, that's me."
"There is a call for you on our telephone. That will add thirty francs to your bill." The waiter wandered away.
"Stay here," said Drew.
"I told Communications where I'd be. "
"Why should I?"
"Because I want you to I really want you to Latham got up and walked rapidly to the antiquated telephone at the end of the distressed bar. He picked up the receiver, which was lying in a pool of stale wine, and spoke.
"This is Latham."
"Durbane here," said the voice on the line.
"I'm patching you through on scrambler to Director Sorenson in Washington. You're clear at both ends. Go ahead."
"Drew?"
"Yes, sir-"
"It happened! We just got word about Harry. He's alive!"
"Where?"
"As near as we can determine, somewhere in the Hausruck Alps.
A call came through from the anti-ncos in Obernberg saying they were engineering his escape, and to keep our secure lines open from Passau to Burghausen. They refused to identify themselves, but they have to be real."
"Thank God!" cried Latham in relief.
"Don't be too confident. They say he's got to get through damn near twelve miles of snow in the mountains before they can reach him."
"You don't know Harry. He'll get there. I may be stronger, but he was always tougher."
"What are you talking about?"
"Never mind. I'll go back to the embassy and wait."
Latham rep laced the phone and returned to the, table
Karin de Vries was not there.
he column of figures trudged through the snow ag the long shadows of evening spread across the Tmountain range, the only illumination the headlights of the two huge vehicles and the flashlights of the guards. Harry Latham leapt off the truck, the ache in his head subsiding the nearer they came to the bridge over the gorge above the offshoot of the Salzach River. He could make it!
Once over the narrow bridge, he would find his way; he had memorized the reverse route and the markings he had made, recalling it all a thousand times during his so-called hospitalization, otherwise known as being held hostage. But he could not remain in the alpine truck, where he had hidden himself, for the vehicles were searched, each piece of equipment matched to an invoice.
Instead, he had to join the column of Sormenkinder, blindly marching off to their uncertain futures throughout Germany and all Europe, singing their songs of blood purity, Aryan righteousness, and death to the ill born. Harry sang with the loudest of them, his fervor acknowledged by grins and bright eyes as they crossed over the bridge. Only moments now.
The