Montag answered proudly. "Jawohl, Herr Kapitan. I can carry four bags of cement in my arms!"

The lieutenant frowned slightly. "I meant anything else as unusual as lighting cigarettes with your finger."

Montag nodded emphatically. "Yes, captain. I can keep warm in the coldest weather, without any coat or cap or gloves. I even go barefoot in the snow sometimes." Without being asked, he got up, stepped to the lieutenant's desk, and held out his hand. "Feel it," he said. "I can make it warm whenever I want." The lieutenant touched Montag's palm. It felt distinctly hot. For just a moment he peered up at the man as if trying to see how he did it, then called in a young aide, who took them to reception and left them under the suspicious eye of a sergeant. Some minutes later he returned, to take them back to the lieutenant.

"Frau Montag," the lieutenant said affably, "I have arranged very good employment for your husband. As it happens, he must live on the estate where he will be employed. You do not need to know where it is, but I can tell you that, despite his injuries, he will be serving his Fuhrer. A part of his wages will be mailed to you, and it may be that he will be permitted to visit you from time to time."

"Meanwhile he will remain here until transportation arrives for him." He gestured at the young aide. "Corporal Hochdorf will conduct you to the lunchroom, here in the building, where you can eat. No doubt you will want to talk before you are separated. Afterward you can bring some of his clothing and other necessaries. They will be forwarded to him."

While they ate, Corporal Hochdorf sat watchfully nearby. The meal was adequate. The sausage was probably eighty percent oatmeal, Macurdy thought, and there was something peculiar about the bread, but the cheese was good. The so-called "coffee" was wretched, even compared to what they served in England these days, but he supposed he'd get used to it. He'd be glad to leave Gerda; she'd propositioned him in Lubeck, and several times had stroked his thigh on the train. He wasn't sure he could keep refusing, and to give in would be disloyal to Mary.

22

Schloss Tannenberg

The country road had not been graded for months-fuel, equipment, and drivers were all in short supply-so the staff car's driver kept the speed below 50 kph, 31 mph, on the washboard surface. Beside him in the front seat sat a young SS 2nd lieutenant an Untersturmfuhrer in the SS terminology. "Lipanov," the Gestapo officer had called him. In back, wearing civilian clothes, rode Kurt Montag, with an SS lance corporal beside him. The rear side-windows had plush curtains, and Montag's big fingers spread them slightly. He turned to the corporal.

"Is it all right that I look out?"

"If you wish," the corporal replied, then said more quietly, "what do you think you will see?"

"Bavaria," Montag answered. "I have never seen Bavaria before."

"Where do you think you were this morning? Where we picked you up?"

"In Kempten," Montag answered.

"And where do you think Kempten is? In what state?" Montag shook his head.

"Kempten is in Bavaria!" Montag looked puzzled.

The lieutenant had overheard, and glanced back over his shoulder. "Herr Montag," he said, "where are you from?" He suspected his passenger was Volksdeutsch, ethnic German from one of the Baltic countries. He'd known a Volksdeutscher from Latvia; his German had sounded much like this man's.

"I am from Hermans Acker, Herr Kapitan."

The lieutenant ignored the unexpected promotion. "I don't mean what farm! What country are you from?"

"From Germany, Herr Kapitan."

"Lieber Gott," the lieutenant muttered under his breath. "Another idiot." Some of these psychics, it seemed to him, were candidates for eugenic cleansing. "What state!?" he said aloud. "Ost-Preussen, captain, from Kleines Torfland Gebiet."

Macurdy had kept part of his attention out the window. They were passing a longish lake that had to be der Kiefersee; he knew it well on maps. He wondered idly what kind of fish they caught there. A forested ridge backed the far shore, while the near shore was fields and pasture, with woods here and there. They'd be at Schloss Tannenber very soon.

They passed the lake's upper end, were a lane ran down through pasture to a small wooden dock locked in ice. Briefly the road burrowed through woods, mostly of beech and fir, the latter shading patches of old gray snow. The car slowed, then turned onto a horseshoe drive that led to a preposterouslooking building: a large stone manor house three stories high, built in the shape of a U, its courtyard to the rear. Providing some pretense to the title Schloss-castle-its ridged, red-tiled roof was bordered by battlements, embellished at intervals with drain spouts in the form of gargoyles, and by a tower that stood like an afterthought at the end of the farther wing. Macurdy wondered what sort of man had designed the place.

The car unloaded its passengers in front of the entrance, and the driver pulled away. With the lance corporal's hand on Montag's sleeve, they followed Lieutenant Lipanov up several steps to a roofed porch with concrete pillars, and through the main entrance with its black-uniformed guard. Behind Montag's oafsh gawp, Macurdy's eyes sized things up. The foyer, also with a guard, was as oddly laid out as the building, forming a U around a broad central flight of stairs leading to the second floor. The carpet was well-worn, both on floor and stairs. Pale rectangles on the walls showed where art had been removed. A front corner held the only furniture, a banquette and three club chairs, all of them threadbare. In a side wall toward the back was a door which might access a cellar stairway. The lieutenant took Montag to the broad cross corridor that passed beneath the staircase, and turned left to the first door. Its polished brass plate read PROJECT OFFICE. He opened it, and they entered a small reception room partitioned off from the office behind it. A corporal rose abruptly from behind a desk, his right arm snapping forward sharply. "Heil Hitler!" he barked.

"Heil Hitler! I am here to see Hauptsturmfuhrer Kupfer." The corporal opened the door behind him, spoke to someone, then sent Lipanov through, Montag following. Inside, Lipanov stopped at attention with a sharp clack of heels, and again his t hand shot out. "Heil Hitler!"

The man he'd saluted outranked Lipanov, his insignia marking him as a Hauptsturmfuhrer, a captain. "Heil Hitler!" he answer but though his words were as loud, his salute as stiff, from him they seemed awkward, a required formality. From Lipanov, the words had reflected fervor, or at least well-drilled false fervor.

"I am here to deliver your new psychic, Herr Hauptsturmfuhrer," Lipanov snapped, then stepped to the desk and handed over the papers given him by the Gestapo.

The captain-Kupfer, from the name plate on his desk- scanned them, then laid them on his blotter. "Thank you, Lipanov. I will require Corporal Karlsbach's services for a bit. You are dismissed."

"Thank you, Herr Hauptsturmfuhrer!" Again Lipanov's heels clopped, and his arm shot out again. "Heil Hitler!" Then he about-faced and left.

After giving Lance Corporal Karlsbach brief instructions, Kupfer sent him off to show Montag what he needed to know about the building. This would use time, allowing Kupfer to finish his paperwork before Colonel Landgraf returned from Munich.

First the corporal took Montag back to the foyer, to the door leading to the cellar. "Do not go down there," he said pointing. "If you do, you will be shot."

He didn't elaborate, and his aura gave Macurdy no clear indication that he was or was not exaggerating. Macurdy was also to avoid the north and south wings totally, except if escorted, for the same compelling reason.