Alistair warmed to the subject. “All of them were born in 1920 and have turned twenty-two or will shortly. By all accounts, Samuel Barton, nicknamed Bucky, is eligible for the draft, but his name has not yet been drawn. Bridgette Loring is graduating Stephens College with a degree in fashion design and illustration. Apparently, she’s the next Coco Chanel and has been offered a job with the J. L. Hudson Company in Detroit, but she is holding out for a designer’s position in a house of high fashion.”

“The fashion district in Paris should be a tasty inducement,” Wild Bill commented.

“Victoria Grayson and Christoph Brandt have graduated and are employed, Victoria as a French translator for G. P. Putnam’s Sons in New York, and Christoph as a high school teacher and track-and-field coach in Austin, Texas. He goes by Chris and resents the use of his German given name.”

“A good sign,” the colonel said, “but why hasn’t Brandt volunteered? He’s been out of school two years.”

“He failed his physical. He was born absent a thumb. He tried to argue his way in, but the medics wouldn’t have it. According to his professor friend, who volunteered all the information you’re reading there, Christoph did everything he could to show the docs his missing thumb wasn’t a handicap, but they didn’t buy it. He’s quite an athlete.”

The colonel grunted and consulted the list again. “And Brad Hudson?”

“Brad Hudson is the only non–college graduate. He lives in Meeker, Colorado, and works for a lumber company. He’s the one deferred from the draft because of family obligations. His father died in a lumberyard accident, and his mother and sister and the two kids they’ve taken in off the street, a brother and sister, now depend on him for putting food on the table.”

The piercing blue eyes of Wild Bill Donovan rested upon him. “What’s he doing on the list?”

“He’s fluent in German.”

“So?”

“He’s also a very proficient fly-fisherman.”

“And how does that help us?”

“So is Major General Konrad March.”

Wild Bill Donovan rolled his chair back from his desk and settled deeper into its worn leather with a pensive steepling of his fingers over his lips. “I see. What makes you think you can entice Brad away from his family?”

“I don’t. Fact is, I doubt it, but he’s worth checking out. He has all the qualifications essential for the job—the only candidate I’ve uncovered so far. I have some days coming, so I thought I might pop down to Colorado and get in a little fly-fishing when the rainbows start running.”

Colonel Donovan nodded his assent. “How about the others? How amenable do you think they will be?”