The Assassination Option Read online

  When the sergeant saw Cronley and the others approaching, he came to attention and saluted. Cronley returned the salute and asked, “Is there some problem?”

  “You know about this vehicle, Captain?” the paratroop sergeant asked.

  “Didn’t they teach you it is customary for sergeants to salute officers before addressing them, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” the paratroop sergeant said, and saluted. Cronley returned it.

  “Herr Schultz, if you’ll get in the back with Captain Dunwiddie?” Cronley said, and then turned to the paratroop sergeant. “Is there a problem with this vehicle?”

  “Sir, only the general’s cars are allowed to park here.”

  “There are exceptions to every rule, Sergeant,” Cronley said, and produced his CIC credentials. “In this case—it’s an intelligence matter—I ordered the sergeant to wait here for me until I could bring Herr Schultz out. We didn’t want him standing around where he could be seen. Weren’t you here when General Smith passed him into the building?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You did the right thing to question the vehicle, Sergeant.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Carry on, Sergeant,” Cronley ordered crisply. Then he turned to the black sergeant. “Well, Sergeant Phillips, what do you say we get out of here?”

  “Yes, sir,” Sergeant Phillips said. He got behind the wheel and Cronley got in the front seat beside him.

  When they were rolling, Cronley said, “Those CIC credentials do come in handy, don’t they?”

  “Enjoy them while you can,” Dunwiddie said. “I think we’re about to lose them.”

  “I will bring up the subject of keeping them—and getting some more for some of your guys—to General Greene when there’s an opportunity. I didn’t want to do that when Mattingly was there—he can probably come up with a dozen reasons to take them away from us.”

  “I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you that making nice to Colonel Mattingly would be a good idea.”

  “I thought about that.”

  “And?”

  “Mattingly is never going to forgive me for me, not him, being named chief, DCI-Europe,” Cronley replied, “even though I had nothing to do with it. Or forgive you, Captain Dunwiddie, for those new bars on your epaulets.”

  “Speaking of which,” Sergeant Phillips said, “they look real good on you, Tiny. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks, Tom,” Dunwiddie said.

  “Who’s going to be the new Top Kick? Tedworth?” Phillips asked.

  “Who else?” Dunwiddie said.

  “General, can you tell me what General Smith wanted with you?”

  “Of course,” Gehlen said. “Two things. Once it was determined he had the right Captain Cronley—the Army one, not a naval officer—he asked if I ‘was comfortable’ with you being named chief, DCI-Europe. I assured him I was. And then he handed me this to give to you.”

  He handed Cronley a business-sized envelope. Cronley’s name and the legend “By Officer Courier” was on it. When he opened it, he saw that it contained a second envelope. This one was addressed:

  CAPTAIN JAMES D. CRONLEY JR.

  CHIEF, DCI-EUROPE

  C/O GENERAL WALTER B. SMITH

  SUPREME HEADQUARTERS, EUROPEAN COMMAND

  BY OFFICER COURIER

  He tore the second envelope open and read the letter it contained.

  TOP SECRET PRESIDENTIAL NUCLEAR

  The White House

  Washington, D.C.

  Rear Admiral Sidney W. Souers, USN

  Special Assistant to the President

  December 24, 1945

  Duplication Forbidden

  Copy 1 of 2

  Page 1 of 8

  Captain James D. Cronley Jr.

  Chief, DCI-Europe

  C/O General Walter B. Smith

  Supreme Headquarters, European Command

  By Officer Courier

  TOP SECRET PRESIDENTIAL NUCLEAR

  TOP SECRET PRESIDENTIAL NUCLEAR

  RAdm Souers/Capt Cronley 24 Dec 1945

  Copy 1 of 2

  Page 2 of 8

  Duplication Forbidden

  Dear Jim:

  The information herein, with which Lieutenant Colonel Ashton is familiar, is to be shared only with General Gehlen, General White, and Dunwiddie. It is to be hoped he will be Captain Dunwiddie by the time you get this. If his commission has not come through, let me know immediately.

  This concerns the establishment of the Directorate of Central Intelligence and its operations in the near future.

  Until the OSS’s arrangement with General Gehlen provided the names of Soviet intelligence officers seeking to breach the secrecy of the Manhattan Project, and the names of Manhattan Project personnel who were in fact engaged in treasonous espionage on behalf of the USSR, it was J. Edgar Hoover’s often announced position that the FBI had been completely successful in maintaining the secrets of the Manhattan Project.

  TOP SECRET PRESIDENTIAL NUCLEAR

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  RAdm Souers/Capt Cronley 24 Dec 1945

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  Duplication Forbidden

  Hoover maintained this position, even after being given the aforementioned intelligence, up and until President Truman informed Marshal Stalin in Potsdam on July 18, 1945, that we possessed the atomic bomb, and from Stalin’s reaction concluded he was telling Stalin something Stalin already knew.

  Faced with the undeniable proof that the USSR had penetrated the Manhattan Project, Director Hoover said that what he had really meant to say was that of course the FBI had known all along of Soviet spies in the Manhattan Project, but that so far he had been unable to develop sufficient evidence that would stand up in court to arrest and indict the spies and traitors. He assured the President at that time that he would order the FBI to redouble its efforts to obtain such evidence.

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  RAdm Souers/Capt Cronley 24 Dec 1945

  Copy 1 of 2

  Page 4 of 8

  Duplication Forbidden

  The President had taken me into his confidence about this even before Potsdam, and when he asked what I thought should be done, I recommended that he turn the investigation of Soviet espionage in the Manhattan Project over to General Donovan and the OSS. He replied that to do so would be tantamount to authorizing an “SS-like” secret police force in the United States, and he was absolutely unwilling to do anything like that. Furthermore, the President said, he had already decided to abolish the OSS.

  There the situation lay dormant, until the President decided he had been too hasty in shutting down the OSS and had come to the conclusion that there was a great need for an organization with both covert and clandestine capabilities and answerable only to the chief executive.

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  RAdm Souers/Capt Cronley 24 Dec 1945

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  Duplication Forbidden

  In late November, the President told me that he had decided to establish by Executive Order the Directorate of Central Intelligence (DCI) as of January 1, 1946, and intended to name me as director. He told me one of the reasons for his decision was that he knew I found the notion of an American SS as repugnant as he did.

  I told the President that unless the DCI was given authority to deal with significant Soviet intelligence efforts in the United States, such as the Manhattan Project, I would reluctantly have to decline the honor of becoming director, DCI.

  The President said it was politically impossible for him to publicly or privately take any responsibili
ty for counterintelligence activities within the United States from Mr. Hoover and the FBI and give it to the DCI. He then pointed out in the draft of the Executive Order establishing the DCI the phrase “and perform such other activities as the President may order.”

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  RAdm Souers/Capt Cronley 24 Dec 1945

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  Duplication Forbidden

  He said that if I were DDCI, he would order me to “investigate and deter any efforts by any foreign power to penetrate the Manhattan Project, or any such activity, and to report any findings and any actions taken, directly and only to him.”

  The President said that he did not feel that Mr. Hoover would have any need to know of these orders. The President also said that in none of his conversations with Director Hoover had the subject of “Operation OST” come up, either by name, or as a general subject such as the rumor that we have been sending Germans to Argentina. The President said he found this odd, as I had told him FBI agents were in Europe attempting to question you, and others, on the subject. The President said he did not understand Mr. Hoover’s particular interest in Operation OST, as it is none of the FBI’s business.

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  RAdm Souers/Capt Cronley 24 Dec 1945

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  Duplication Forbidden

  At this point in our conversation the President again offered me the directorship of the DCI. I informed the President that if I could name Lieutenant Colonel Ashton as deputy director, DCI–Western Hemisphere, with overall responsibility for Operation OST, and you as DDDCI-Europe, with responsibility for Operation OST in Europe, I would accept the honor he offered.

  The President told me to tell you and Colonel Ashton that he feels confident you both can establish an amicable, cooperative relationship between the DCI and the FBI while at the same time keeping secret those matters which do not fall within the FBI’s areas of responsibility or interest.

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  RAdm Souers/Capt Cronley 24 Dec 1945

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  He also said to send you his best wishes.

  With best personal regards,

  Sidney W. Souers

  Sidney W. Souers

  Rear Admiral, USN

  Director, DCI

  TOP SECRET PRESIDENTIAL NUCLEAR

  Cronley handed the letter to Gehlen.

  “Please give it to Captain Dunwiddie when you’ve read it, General,” he said.

  When Tiny had read the letter, Cronley said, “My take on that letter is that Truman is afraid of Hoover. Otherwise, he would just tell Hoover to butt out.”

  When no one replied, he asked, “Can I interpret the silence to mean you agree with me?”

  “You can interpret my silence to mean I am obviously not in a position where I can presume to comment on anything the President of the United States does or does not do,” Gehlen said. “I would, however, suggest that both President Truman and Admiral Souers seem to feel confident that both you and Colonel Ashton can deal with a very difficult situation.”

  “Shit,” Cronley said, and looked at Dunwiddie. “And you?”

  After a moment, Dunwiddie avoided the question, instead asking, “Lieutenant Colonel Ashton? I thought he was a major, and in Walter Reed with a broken leg?”

  “In other words, no comment, right?” Cronley asked.

  Dunwiddie said nothing.

  “As to your question,” Cronley said. “Applying my Sherlock Holmesian logic to it, I deduce Ashton (a) has been promoted, and (b) that he will shortly appear here, broken leg or not. Obviously, if he was in Walter Reed, we could not share this letter with him.”

  “Wiseass,” Dunwiddie said.

  Gehlen chuckled.

  “I further deduce,” Cronley went on, “that Lieutenant Colonel Ashton is coming over here to familiarize himself with his new underlings.”

  “Other than that Otto Niedermeyer speaks highly of him, I don’t know much about Colonel Ashton,” Gehlen said.

  “All I really know about him is that he’s a Cuban—an American whose family grows sugarcane and makes rum in Cuba—and that Clete likes him. The little I saw of him when I was in Argentina, I liked,” Cronley said. “He’s really . . . what’s the word? ‘Polished.’ Or maybe ‘suave.’ He can charm the balls off a brass monkey.”

  “Now that’s an interesting phrase,” Gehlen said, chuckling.

  “I have no idea what it means,” Cronley confessed.

  “Would you be surprised to hear it has nothing to do with the testicles of our simian cousins?” Dunwiddie asked.

  Tiny has found a way to change the subject.

  Well, what did I expect him to say? “I agree it looks like Truman is throwing us off the bus”?

  “Pay attention, General,” Cronley said. “Professor Dunwiddie’s lecture is about to start.”

  “Until breech-loading rifled-barrel naval cannon came along,” Dunwiddie began, “men-of-war, as warships were then called, fired round iron balls from their smooth-barreled cannon. These balls often contained a black powder charge, with a fuse that was lit just before the ball was rammed down the cannon muzzle. Is this too technical for you, Captain Cronley, sir, or should I continue?”

  Gehlen chuckled.

  “Carry on, Captain Dunwiddie,” Cronley ordered.

  “As you are aware, balls tend to roll around on flat surfaces,” Dunwiddie continued. “They tend to roll around even more on flat surfaces which are themselves moving, as the deck of ships on the high seas tend to do. Since the balls the Navy was using weighed up to one hundred pounds, you can see where this was a problem. The problem was compounded by the explosive shells to which I previously referred.

  “Phrased simply, if some of the black powder in the explosive shells came out of the touch hole—that’s where they put the fuse—while it was rolling around on the deck, it made for a highly combustible environment. Even worse was the possibility that glowing embers—debris from previous firing of the cannon—would find the touch hole of the explosive ball as it rolled around the deck crushing feet and breaking ankles. Bang. Big bang.

  “A solution had to be found, and one was. A clever sailor, one I like to think claimed my beloved Norwich as his alma mater, although I can’t prove this—”

  “General,” Cronley asked, “has Captain Dunwiddie mentioned in passing that he went to Norwich University?”

  “Not as often as Sergeant Hessinger has mentioned he went to Harvard, but yes, he has. No more than thirty or forty times,” Gehlen replied.

  “As I was saying,” Dunwiddie went on, “a clever nautical person came up with a solution for the problem of cannonballs rolling and sometimes exploding on the deck. The balls, he concluded, had to be in some manner restrained from rolling around, and that the method of restraint had to permit getting the iron cannonballs from where they would be restrained into the mouth of the cannon quickly when that was required. And without causing the sparks which occur when steel and/or iron collide. Said sparks would tend to set off both the barrels of black powder and the explosive cannonballs.

  “What he came up with were plates, into which he hammered depressions so that the cannonballs wouldn’t roll around. He made the plates from brass so they wouldn’t spark and set off the black powder. For reasons lost in the fog of history, he called these indented brass plates ‘monkeys.’ When they were getting ready to fight, they put the shells, the balls, on these monkeys until they were needed. Moving the balls, which weighed up to one hundred pounds, off the
brass monkey was recognized to be very difficult. Any further questions?”

  “Interesting,” Gehlen said. “Now that you’ve brought it up, I remember seeing cannonballs stacked that way, forming sort of a pyramid, on your Old Ironsides in Boston Harbor.” He paused, and corrected himself: “The USS Constitution.”

  “You’ve been on the Constitution?” Cronley blurted, in surprise.

  “As a young officer,” Gehlen said. “When it seemed that I was destined to serve as an intelligence officer, I was treated to a tour of the United States.”

  Sergeant Phillips announced, “We’re here.”

  Cronley looked out the window and saw they were approaching the gate to the Eschborn Airfield.

  “Great,” Cronley said. “And now that Professor Dunwiddie’s history lesson is over, we can return to our noble duties stemming the Red Tide. Maintaining as we do so an amicable relationship with the FBI.”

  He expected a chuckle from General Gehlen, but when he looked at him, he saw a look of concern.

  Jesus, what did my automatic mouth blurt out now?

  “Sir, if I said something . . .”

  Gehlen shook his head. “No, Jim, you didn’t say anything out of place. What popped back into my mind—I have a tendency to find a black lining in every silver cloud—when you said ‘stemming the Red Tide’ was something I thought when I was with General Smith earlier. You said it mockingly, but in fact—don’t misunderstand me, please, I know you take it as seriously as I do—that’s what we’re trying to do. But there are so very few of us who really understand the problem. And so many clever Russians.”

  Cronley’s mouth went on automatic again. He regretted what he was saying as the words came out of his mouth: “Not to worry, General. One of us went to Norwich.”

  There was no expression on Gehlen’s face for a long moment, but just as Cronley was trying to frame an appropriate apology, Gehlen smiled and said, “That somehow slipped my mind, but now that you’ve brought it up, it certainly does wonders dispelling my clouds of impending disaster.”