The Shadowboxer (17 page)

The second addition was more prominent. A fifteen-by-twenty-five-foot silk flag was stretched high on the wall behind the Vice-President's podium. The banner bore a coat of arms on a field of blue and gold stripes. The crest contained a lion's body surmounted by two silver eagles' heads, facing in opposite directions, their eyes blazing red. An inscription below the crest read “
GERMAN PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT
.”

Spangler broke into laughter. “Whose brainchild was this?”

“Julie's.”

“And you think you can get away with it?”

“Get away with what?”

“Double-crossing your allies and making a power grab?”

“Power grab? Are you a history professor?”

“It doesn't require much history to know that setting up your own secret postwar German government breaks almost every agreement the United States has made with England and Russia.”

“I don't see any promises being broken.”

“Why not start off with America's agreement to the postwar military occupation of Germany on a three-zone, three-nation basis?”

“Sounds promising. I can't wait for it to happen. Hell, we're all for it. Fact is, that's why we're here. To hurry it along. That's exactly the purpose of the
G. P. G.
—the German Propaganda Group. We've put together the largest and finest and
most expensive
printing presses and radio studios you'll ever see. We brought in hundreds of Germans to run them for us. Why, the first newspaper and broadcast are already waiting to go. We've gone to no end of trouble and expense so we can convince the Germans to mend their ways and dump Hitler.”

“And this proposed Provisional Government,” Spangler said goodhumoredly. “It couldn't, by any chance, be made up of some of the better-known radio and newspaper personalities? Some of the more stalwart anti-Nazi exiles, like Vetter and the Tolan girl, who might be able to build themselves a following in Germany—with the aid of your newspaper and radio?”

“You do amaze me,” Kittermaster called down in delight. “You are a
singularly
bright boy.”

“How many people know about this room?”

“No one—officially. Officially it doesn't exist. Unofficially, I'd say fewer than a dozen.”

“And if someone were to find out—say a Russian or an Englishman or even the wrong American general or politician—you could claim the Provisional Government is just a promotional device in reserve? Something you're saving up in case the initial propaganda needs beefing up?”

“Goddamned if you haven't hit it again,” Kittermaster boomed. “That's exactly what I was planning to say if someone comes stumbling along. The Provisional Government is just a slick PR stunt to trick the German people into thinking they've got their own politicians they can trust—and that they can trust us to back them.”

“When in fact it's your allies whose trust you're betraying.”

“Now, that's not a very neighborly thing to say, friend.”

“But it's true.”

“Truth depends on how you look at it.”

“And how do
you
look at it?”

“Well, kind of opposite from you. I don't think it's a question of whether the Russians and English trust us; I figure it boils down to whether we can really trust
them
. Now, you take that Communist crowd. Do you really believe they'll let free elections take place in Poland if they think they have a chance of losing?”

“You're at war with Germany, not Poland.”

“Well, then, let's take the British: if they're so intent on honoring the postwar zones, how come they're holding some top German political exiles in isolation without wanting us to know about it? And,” Kittermaster continued, “there's another and much more important point. If our allies are so true to us, how come there are absolutely no German political exiles to be found anywhere in the world? How come they simply vanished?”

“Maybe there weren't any to begin with,” Spangler suggested. “Maybe the Nazis got rid of their political opposition a long time ago.”

“You don't want me to believe that out of fifty thousand anti-Nazi politicians, no one escaped?”

“It's more like a hundred and fifty thousand political prisoners—and very few got out.”

“But that's the point—what happened to those few?”

“Perhaps,” said Spangler, “if you had been concerned with what happened to the many at the right time, it wouldn't have happened in the first place.”

“You one of those atrocity nuts, my friend?”

“No. I gave that up a long time back. I decided to turn it over to people who could do something about it, like yourself.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. Glad you're not part of the rumor-monger clique.”

“You mean rumors claiming that German political exiles have been secretly picked up by the Russians and the English?”

“Well, then, bright boy, you tell
me
where they are. It's taken us four months to get our hands on seven of them, and we still can't find one with real influence or stature. What happened to the fat cats?”

“Maybe de Gaulle's hiding them.”

“You bet your ass he is, and so is every other damned Allied country. Well, friend, they're not going to catch us short this time. We've got our own insurance policy right here, to make
sure
our European buddies play it straight.”

“And where do I fit into all of this?” said Spangler.

“Good question, friend, damned good question,” Kittermaster said, sitting at a senatorial desk. “If you count the chairs around that table you'll see we got eight. Only seven are filled. It's that last chair that tells the tale. The question is—who'll come up with the man to fill it, Julie or me?”

“Why is that so important?”

“Because Julie and I both miscalculated,” Kittermaster said. “You see, we started off having a little contest on who could bring in the most people. Of the seven we've got in hand, the score reads: Julie, five; me, two. Now, that doesn't look too good for me, because the boys in Washington are very big on figures and statistics. And they might just say, ‘Look what Julie and his espionage fellows did, they whopped old Lamar B. five to two—so let's give Julie the reins and boot old Kittermaster out along with his politicians, and let the spy-boys take over.' Well, Mr. Spangler, needless to say, I don't find that a very gratifying prospect.”

“If Julian has that much of a lead on you, there's not much you can do now, is there?”

“But he isn't
using
it, friend, that's the point. And I'm wondering why not. Believe me, Julie
wants
to take over. I don't think the answer's so hard to come by. What it really boils down to is the eighth chair. Whoever produces the man for it takes the ball game.”

“And you want me to produce him—for you?”

“Let's put it this way: I don't want you to produce him for Julie. If you switch over to me, you throw a wrench in Julie's plans: he can't trade you off to von Schleiben or send you in for the eighth man. That's going to give you and me a little time to work out a scheme or two.”

“Like sending me into Germany to bring back the eighth man for you?”

“You can go along if you like, but it really isn't necessary. What I've got simmering in the back of my brain will knock those boys in Washington right up into the bleachers. Oh yes! They're really going to see something! So there it is,” Kittermaster concluded, “and I'll open the bidding for you here and now. Whatever deal Julie made for your services I'll triple. Triple, hell! You can name your own price.”

“How about a share of the gravy?”

“What gravy?”

“Postwar Germany. That's what this whole thing is about, isn't it? Whoever ends up with
G. P. G.
may very well end up with most of postwar Germany. That means a lot of power and a lot of money for someone. What's my percentage if it goes your way?”

“I
like
you, boy! I certainly do like you.”

“What's my percentage?”

“We'll work it out—if you say yes.”

“And if I'm not around to use it, can it be transferred to whomever I say?”

“As long as there's a Switzerland.”

“And von Schleiben? How will you stop Julian from letting von Schleiben know where I am?”

“No problem at all. You say yes and I've got my ways.”

“Just a simple yes and the world is mine?”

“You're damn right.”

“No questions asked?”

“I'm bargaining for your services, not your autobiography—though I wouldn't mind knowing what gives between you and Julie. Has Julie got something on you?”

“Maybe. He also thinks I'm insane.”

“Are you?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Then why worry?”

23

The white light flashed on.

“Oop? Do you read me, Oop? This is Sweet Pea calling. Do you read me, Oop?”

“
YEP
.”

“I am beside myself, Oop, utterly beside myself. Beside myself and vexed, Oop—and all because of you. I return to the office this morning after a weekend of fishing, and I am besieged by phone calls from the other members of the Committee. Phone calls about
you
, Oop. You have brought us to the brink of disaster, Oop, do you realize that?”

“
YEP
.”

“On whose authority did you decide to have a confrontation with Mandrake, Oop? Mandrake has circulated a rumor among the Committee that he had to intercede to keep you from selling one of our agents to the Germans. Do you understand the implications, Oop? He made it sound as if you and I are a pair of white slavers! White slavery doesn't sit well here on the Potomac, Oop. The Committee is up in arms. Do you realize the implications when the Committee is up in arms, Oop?”

“
YEP
.”

“Just thank the Lord for my quick-wittedness, Oop. I gave the Committee my personal guarantee that the story was confused. Now, listen, Oop, and listen carefully. There is little doubt that Mandrake was referring to Dick Tracy, so I want sworn affidavits from both Dick Tracy and you that it
isn't so!
We must make Mandrake out to be a bold-faced liar! Get me those affidavits, Oop. Get them fast. Then move Dick Tracy out of there and away from Mandrake. Dick Tracy should never have been allowed near Mandrake! Do you understand what you have to do, Oop?”

“
IT'S TOO LATE. MANDRAKE HAS ALREADY LIFTED DICK TRACY. I'VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU FOR THREE DAYS TO TELL YOU. I WASN'T ABLE TO FIND YOU. HOW WAS THE FISHING? CATCH ANY BIG ONES
?”

Julian waited for the delay to end.

“What was that? What was that you just said?”

“
I ASKED HOW THE FISHING WENT. DID YOU CATCH ANY BIG ONES
?”

“Not that,” VFW squealed as the white light went on. “What did you say about Mandrake and Dick Tracy?”

“
MANDRAKE MADE A DEAL WITH DICK TRACY. DICK TRACY HAS MOVED OVER TO MANDRAKE AS HIS PERSONAL ESPIONAGE ADVISER
.”

“God in heaven, Oop, do you realize what you have done? You have made me out a liar, that's what you have done. I promised the others sworn affidavits denying this whole ridiculous matter. I'm a trapped liar, Oop—all because of you. Do you realize that, Oop? You got me into this. Now you get me out of it. What about Daddy Warbucks? Have we located a Daddy Warbucks? If we could bring him in fast, that might regain control of the situation.”

“
WE MAY HAVE SPOTTED ONE. THERE'S SOME CONFUSION OVER THE EXACT LOCATION. WE THINK HE'S BEING TAKEN TO EITHER A BALTIC ISLAND OR NORTHWESTERN POLAND. WE HOPE TO PINPOINT IT SOON. BUT IF IT IS HIM, I DON'T THINK IT WILL HELP OUR SITUATION MUCH, SINCE IT'S DICK TRACY'S MAN WHO IS ON THE TRAIL
.”

“Oh, my God. That can't happen, Oop. That simply cannot happen. Oop,
suggest
something.”

“
WHY NOT LET ME HANDLE MANDRAKE MY OWN WAY
?”

“Don't be insane. Another incident could wipe us out completely back here. You keep away from Mandrake. I want you to come up with a positive solution.”

“
WHAT ABOUT GIVING UP OUR JURISDICTION TO MANDRAKE? WHY NOT LET HIM BE BOSS OF THE ENTIRE OPERATION? THAT WILL STOP THE MANEUVERING FOR CONTROL AND GIVE US TIME TO THINK
.”

“Absolutely not. Once you give something up, you never get it back. Mandrake is much too clever for that. We have to come up with the unexpected, the flamboyant. Something—Hold it, Oop, hold it. Give me time. I'm having flashes. I've got it, Oop. I've saved the situation once again. Call a meeting of the Seven.”

“
THAT'S MADNESS, ABSOLUTE MADNESS. YOU KNOW WHO WE HAVE AND WHAT THEY ARE. A MEETING IS THE EXACT THING I'VE BEEN TRYING TO AVOID. YOU'LL BE PLAYING DIRECTLY INTO MANDRAKE'S HAND. THIS IS WHAT HE'S BEEN WAITING FOR. HE KNOWS BETTER THAN ANYONE THAT WITHOUT A DADDY WARBUCKS A MEETING WOULD BE A COMPLETE DISASTER FOR US. ONCE THE COMMITTEE READS THE TRANSCRIPT WE'LL LOOK LIKE THE INCOMPETENTS OF THE CENTURY
.”

“Don't exaggerate, Oop. The trouble with you and your fellows is congenital exaggeration and a complete lack of political sophistication. I know of what I speak. A bold stroke is half the battle. Rely on the unexpected. Charge the Valley of Death. Trust to my instinct and guile, Oop. Wield the big stick. If Mandrake objects, it makes him out the wilting violet. Trust my years in the Potomac jungle, Oop. I am ordering you to convene the meeting. Do so, posthaste. I won't abide any dillydallying. This is war.”

24

Kittermaster and Spangler seated themselves in the first row, Julian and his aide in the last. The Cipher Chief snapped on a slide projector. “T
OLAN AND FIVE UNIDENTIFIED PRISONERS ARRIVED
O
SITZ BY TRAIN 3 P.M.
F
EBRUARY
14” flashed on the screen.