Korsch understood his meaning.

“Don’t worry, my clever friend. If you give me what I want, you will not be forgotten.”

“What exactly might you mean?”

“It is my conviction, where we happen to be in the east, that we will see Russians before Americans. I have taken steps to ensure such an occurrence will be to my advantage. If you prove loyal, I may be able to find a place for you.”

His words were pregnant with more significance than either man would have admitted. The Reich was collapsing. Any but a fool could see the signs everywhere, though the facade must be kept up so that none could call you a traitor. But among the more practically minded, a desperation had begun to set in to see what might exist on the horizon with which one could line one’s future pockets.

“I don’t much like the idea of having to do with the Russians,” said Gustav.

Now it was Korsch’s turn to smile with a knowing grin. He too possessed useful information, though for the present his own lineage was best kept from the count’s son.

“We may have no choice,” rejoined Korsch, “if we hope to survive.”

“You have contacts?”

Korsch nodded.

“High enough to keep you from prosecution if the war should go against us?”

“Yes—high enough.”

“Then perhaps, for such assurances, I will give you what I have. But there is one thing more I want.”

Korsch laughed. “I know, you have made no secret about it. If I get what I want, I will make sure you get the girl.”

“She must not be harmed.”

“I still know nothing of why you are here, or why you would think harm would come to her.”

“Just give me your assurance, and agree to allow me to be part of the raid.”

“What raid?”

“You will see. Give me your word.”

“All right, all right,” laughed Korsch. “You are a sentimental sop, Schmundt! You’ve wasted enough of my time with all this—what do you have to tell me?”

Gustav took a long swallow of beer from the glass in front of him, set it down with deliberation, then began.

“You were tracking the Bonhoeffer fellow for some time,” said Gustav. “My first assignment from you, in addition to the Jewish problem, was to get you information on him through the neighbor of my father, Baron von Dortmann.”

Korsch nodded, eyebrows gathering toward one another in deep listening intensity. “Once we had him in prison,” he said, “and his underground organization shut down, that aspect of our activity was no longer necessary. I thought you understood that I wanted you exclusively working with me on the tracking of Rabbi Wissen.”

“I have done as you have instructed,” rejoined Gustav, “but because of the proximity of the two estates, and my interest in the baron’s affairs—”

“Your interest in his daughter, don’t you mean?” interrupted Korsch.