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in loud clear voices? He had sensitive information. That was the point of the meeting!"
    "And what was that information, Jim?" General Acres asked, holding his hand up for Grierson to be silent.
    "Something is starting to move. Willis not sure what. Training schedules for troops inside of Russia have been stepped up. Amphibious assault rehearsals on the Black Sea coast. Internal security is tightening up, the same way it did before they went into Russia. Their coding system is scheduled for a major overhaul. Even Canaris is being kept in the dark. One hard fact: The code name for this operation is 'Arminius.'"
    "Arminius,"' Acres repeated, looking back quizzically at Jim.
    "You probably remember it from your Academy days. The German leader during the reign of Augustus. Annihilated Varus's legions in the Teutoburger Forest."
    "What's the target?"
    "Maybe us. Probably us. Von Metz wasn't sure."
    Grierson laughed sarcastically. "That's it?"
    Jim started to report on von Metz's personal warning, then decided to omit that for the moment. If he was suspected of a leak, then a leak there almost certainly was —somewhere. If word of a personal warning got back to German intel, it might be just what they needed to nail his cousin. "That's about it."
    "Martel, we've been filtering reports like that since the war ended. Why should we take this one seriously? Hell, we're the last thing the Germans want to take on."
    "What about this amphib report?" Acres asked the civilian. "Do the British know about this? With Churchill looking to be back in office the Germans might be having preemptive thoughts about England."
    "We've been getting those reports as well," Grierson replied disdainfully. "Our assessment is that they're prepping a move into Kazakhstan for more oil. The amphib's for moving some divisions directly across the Caspian Sea; training in the Black Sea would be the obvious place."
    Grierson turned and looked back at Jim.
    "What did you and your German relative really talk about?" "I told you."
    "Nothing else?"
    "Nothing. I was doing my job."
    "I've already looked at the initial contact report for today," Grierson said, casually revealing that he had access to General Acres's files.
    Acres barely flinched.
    Grierson looked over at Harriman and nodded a dismissal. Harriman stood without comment and exited. As he watched him go, Jim felt as though he were watching something wet that crawled in the dark. The worst part of it was knowing that if the tables had been turned—as they easily could have been — he would have been the one doing the tailing and reporting. Suddenly he was hip deep in the filthy reality that underlay all cloak-and-dagger games. He didn't like it, or himself, much just then. He longed to be a pilot again.
    As the door closed on Harriman, Grierson burst rudely in on Jim's thoughts. "Martel, are you familiar with recent developments in radar equipment used for spotting submarine periscopes and snorkels?"
    "Yes."
    "How and why?"
    "I was briefed on it four months ago. One of my assignments was to find out if the Germans knew about our design, the frequencies we were using, and whether they had developed radar-detection gear for their submarines."
    "What about acoustically guided torpedoes?"
    "I wasn't briefed on that, but I was supposed to find out if they were developing submarine noise makers. That made it pretty obvious that we or the Brits were working on acoustical guidance."
    "Why?"
    Acres interjected. "Jim, we've gotten feedback from other sources —"
    "General!"
    "Mr. Grierson. He's the best operative I've got. This whole thing is a bunch of crap. Chances are the Nazis got the information Stateside. Since the Pacific War ended it's become a damn sieve back there. This whole thing is most likely an FBI screw-up."
    So Grierson was FBI. Very high-up FBI. No wonder Acres had hesitated to cross him.
    "The leak originated here in Berlin. That points to one person. Him."
    "Am I being charged with something?" Jim