Read Online Stealing Trinity by Ward Larsen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ward Larsen
Tags: United States, Fiction, Suspense, Historical, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, Suspense fiction, Espionage, Intelligence Officers, Germany, Nazis, Great Britain, spies, spy stories, Spies - Germany, Atomic Bomb - United States, Intelligence Officers - Great Britain, Spies - United States, Manhattan Project (U.S.)
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Code name Die Wespe."
Die Wespe, Thatcher thought. The Wasp. "This agent, is he American?"
Klein shrugged. "I remember nothing else. There were only moments to look."
"What about the final file? You looked at this one as well?"
"Yes, briefly. It was a personnel dossier on the army captain. He lived in America before the war -- this was circled -- and he attended university there."
"Which one?"
The prisoner frowned in concentration and Thatcher scribbled away, increasingly sure that the man was giving all he could. "Harburg. .. Harbor. Something like this."
"Harvard?"
"Harvard! Yes, that was it," Klein said.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
Thatcher wrote down the name and circled it idly. Not that he would forget. Klein probably had no idea that Harvard was among America's most elite institutions of higher education. It was also, like Oxford and Cambridge, academic territory reserved for the children of the very wealthy and privileged. He thought it curious that a man from such a background might end up as an officer in the Wehrmacht.
"Give me a physical description of this man."
"Tall, strong build, blond hair. He wore a sniper's badge. And there was a scar -- here." Klein pointed to his temple. "I also remember his name."
He motioned for the pen and paper with his cuffed hands, and Thatcher slid them over. Klein wrote the name, then proudly turned it toward his interrogator. Alexander Braun.
"There is one other thing" the prisoner added. "I saw a strange classification, a note handwritten on the cover of the folder. We file by a single letter, then a number. This one said 'U-801:"
"Why do you find this strange?"
"Because the U file doesn't go that high. Maybe fifty is the highest. And Braun starts with a B."
"So perhaps Braun was not his true name?"
"It is possible."
Possible, Thatcher thought. So much was possible.
The interview lasted another twenty minutes. Convinced that Corporal Klein had given his all, he released the man to the custody of the guard. Thatcher quickly made his way out of The Stage, wondering if the Americans were still watching.
As he walked down the hall, the word Roger Ainsley had spoken yesterday suddenly came back. Demobilized. Thatcher wondered how long he had. Might this be his last case before heading back to university? Civil Law and Procedure. The Rules of Evidence. How trite it all seemed in the face of a world turned upside-down.
Of course, someday the world would right itself. Thatcher only hoped he could do the same.
Chapter 9.
The meeting reconvened in Ainsley s office an hour later, a round-table discussion of the slim facts. As earlier, Jones sequestered himself from the conversation, staring out the window with a brooding expression that mirrored the slate gray sky outside.
"Not much to go on, but he was very consistent," Ainsley said.
"Yes," Rasmussen agreed. He seemed to look to Jones for guidance. "It all sounds pretty sketchy. I'm not sure if it's worth pursuing."
"I found it compelling," Thatcher disagreed. "We should have another go tomorrow. I'd like to try to jog his memory on this Braun fellow. We know where he went to school before the war. If I called there and--"
"No!" Jones broke in. "No. We're done here." He moved to the coat rack. "Colonel Ainsley, there is no need to pursue this matter any further. Keep Klein in solitary until we approve his release."
"We told him he'd be released in two months," Thatcher countered. "And surely solitary can't be necessary."
"Keep him isolated until we tell you otherwise. It might be two months or two years."
"But we agreed--"
"Major" Jones cut in again, "that man is a Nazi!"
"He's a soldier"
"Soldier or not, he's locked down. And I will also require the two of you to maintain absolute silence about this."
Thatcher limped over to Jones and stood in his face. "You'll require us? What the bloody hell does that mean?"
Jones shrugged his baggy coat over his shoulders and said, "It means that by the end of the day
Die Wespe, Thatcher thought. The Wasp. "This agent, is he American?"
Klein shrugged. "I remember nothing else. There were only moments to look."
"What about the final file? You looked at this one as well?"
"Yes, briefly. It was a personnel dossier on the army captain. He lived in America before the war -- this was circled -- and he attended university there."
"Which one?"
The prisoner frowned in concentration and Thatcher scribbled away, increasingly sure that the man was giving all he could. "Harburg. .. Harbor. Something like this."
"Harvard?"
"Harvard! Yes, that was it," Klein said.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
Thatcher wrote down the name and circled it idly. Not that he would forget. Klein probably had no idea that Harvard was among America's most elite institutions of higher education. It was also, like Oxford and Cambridge, academic territory reserved for the children of the very wealthy and privileged. He thought it curious that a man from such a background might end up as an officer in the Wehrmacht.
"Give me a physical description of this man."
"Tall, strong build, blond hair. He wore a sniper's badge. And there was a scar -- here." Klein pointed to his temple. "I also remember his name."
He motioned for the pen and paper with his cuffed hands, and Thatcher slid them over. Klein wrote the name, then proudly turned it toward his interrogator. Alexander Braun.
"There is one other thing" the prisoner added. "I saw a strange classification, a note handwritten on the cover of the folder. We file by a single letter, then a number. This one said 'U-801:"
"Why do you find this strange?"
"Because the U file doesn't go that high. Maybe fifty is the highest. And Braun starts with a B."
"So perhaps Braun was not his true name?"
"It is possible."
Possible, Thatcher thought. So much was possible.
The interview lasted another twenty minutes. Convinced that Corporal Klein had given his all, he released the man to the custody of the guard. Thatcher quickly made his way out of The Stage, wondering if the Americans were still watching.
As he walked down the hall, the word Roger Ainsley had spoken yesterday suddenly came back. Demobilized. Thatcher wondered how long he had. Might this be his last case before heading back to university? Civil Law and Procedure. The Rules of Evidence. How trite it all seemed in the face of a world turned upside-down.
Of course, someday the world would right itself. Thatcher only hoped he could do the same.
Chapter 9.
The meeting reconvened in Ainsley s office an hour later, a round-table discussion of the slim facts. As earlier, Jones sequestered himself from the conversation, staring out the window with a brooding expression that mirrored the slate gray sky outside.
"Not much to go on, but he was very consistent," Ainsley said.
"Yes," Rasmussen agreed. He seemed to look to Jones for guidance. "It all sounds pretty sketchy. I'm not sure if it's worth pursuing."
"I found it compelling," Thatcher disagreed. "We should have another go tomorrow. I'd like to try to jog his memory on this Braun fellow. We know where he went to school before the war. If I called there and--"
"No!" Jones broke in. "No. We're done here." He moved to the coat rack. "Colonel Ainsley, there is no need to pursue this matter any further. Keep Klein in solitary until we approve his release."
"We told him he'd be released in two months," Thatcher countered. "And surely solitary can't be necessary."
"Keep him isolated until we tell you otherwise. It might be two months or two years."
"But we agreed--"
"Major" Jones cut in again, "that man is a Nazi!"
"He's a soldier"
"Soldier or not, he's locked down. And I will also require the two of you to maintain absolute silence about this."
Thatcher limped over to Jones and stood in his face. "You'll require us? What the bloody hell does that mean?"
Jones shrugged his baggy coat over his shoulders and said, "It means that by the end of the day
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