Manhattan Mayhem

Many people thought the Italians and Allies were enemies throughout the war. But that wasn’t the case. Mussolini was deposed in 1943, and the king of Italy and the new prime minister signed a secret armistice. Many Italians then began fighting alongside the American, English, and Indian forces against the Germans in Italy.

 

“Vincenzo escaped from the Nazi camp and headed to Germany to fight with the underground. When they learned about Luca, they put Vincenzo in touch with Heinrich, and they came up with a plan to smuggle this fashionable material—”

 

“Fissile.”

 

“—to America. Luca jumped at the chance to help. So they disguised the … material as part of an oven. And had it shipped to his bakery.”

 

Brandon said, “But, all respect, sir, why didn’t I hear about it? We could have …” The agent’s voice faded. He scowled. “You couldn’t tell me because you suspected the double agent we’ve been worried about might’ve been in our office here.”

 

Geller nodded. “German intelligence learned what Heinrich had done and that the shipment was on its way, when and where it would arrive. They alerted their agent in place. But we didn’t know who it was. It looked like the traitor could also be in your office here, Tom. So Luca and Heinrich were the bait. The double agent followed them—and they caught him.”

 

Brandon snapped, “It’s Jack Murphy, isn’t it? Jesus. Hell. I should’ve guessed. He never told me where his leads came from, how he knew about the operation. And he wanted to run it alone. So he could kill the two of them and ship the stuff back to Germany.”

 

Cracco said softly, “I wanted to shoot him. I nearly did. But that is what the Nazis would do. Americans would give him a fair trial. So, I spared him, tied him up.” He smiled. “I was rough with him, however, I have to say that.”

 

Brandon added, “I always wondered why Jack had a two-bedroom apartment.”

 

General Geller laughed harshly. “In Manhattan? On an OSS agent’s pay?”

 

“And had a fancy pocket watch. Oh, and he drove a ’42 Ford Deluxe.”

 

Cracco felt wounded. “You mean he did this for money?”

 

“Looks that way,” Geller said.

 

“Where is he?” Brandon’s voice was thick with pain.

 

“Paddy wagon’s taking him to federal lockup.” Geller offered a smile, which Cracco had learned was a rare occurrence. “Bill Donovan’s talked to Attorney General Biddle. We’re keeping Hoover in the dark. He’ll find out about Murphy’s indictment when he reads it in the Times. If he reads the Times.”

 

“What are you going to do with this?” Brandon indicated the canister in the crate.

 

“You didn’t hear this from me, but it’s going out west. New Mexico. There’s a project going on that’s pretty hush-hush. There’ve been some setbacks, and they need more of this fissile stuff. That’s it? Fissile?”

 

“That’s right.”

 

Brandon was looking at Kohl when he asked with a frown, “They’re going to use it, that bomb, against Germany?”

 

Geller said, “Naw. I told Heinrich and Luca right up front: It won’t be dropped in Europe. No need, for one thing. Hitler’s done for. The Bulge was his last gasp. Germany’ll fall by May, at the latest. It’s the Japs that’re the problem. The Pacific Theater could go on for another year, we don’t stop ’em. This will.” A nod at the crate.

 

“Sir?” a crisp voice called from the doorway. “The team’s here.”

 

Geller said, “Inside, boys.”

 

Three large men in overcoats stepped into the kitchen.

 

Geller said, “All right, get this to Fort Dix, over in New Jersey. We’ve got a special train headed to New Mexico tonight. Colonel Kohl will go with you. There are some scientists there who can use his help. Oh, and whatever the colonel says, I’ll have the stripes of anybody who drops it.”

 

“Yes, sir!”

 

Cracco watched three soldiers lift the crate off the floor and stagger outside with it.

 

Kohl turned to Cracco. “Well, my friend, it’s been a short acquaintance, though a productive one. I think I am going to like this country. The politics, the freedom, the culture … And, more important,” the man said with a serious frown that soon blossomed into a smile, “restaurants where you can find an entire meal behind little glass windows. This clearly is a paradise on earth!”

 

Cracco and the colonel embraced, and the German stepped out the door of the bakery into the alley to accompany the uranium, with all his potential for horror and for good, to New Mexico.

 

Tom Brandon stood partly at attention, partly slumped, a difficult pose to achieve.

 

Geller said, “We’ll talk later, Tom. Oh, and if you hear from J. Edgar Vacuum or his boys, send ’em to me.”

 

“Yes, sir.” The younger OSS officer nodded, then walked through the door, pulling his coat about him.

 

Geller turned from the empty doorway. “I got word this afternoon: Your brother’s safely back in Italy, behind Allied lines.” The general reached forward and shook his hand. “Ah, Luca. You’ve done a good thing here.”

 

The baker shrugged. “It was my duty. The attack by the Japanese on Pearl Harbor was inexcusable. I would do anything to avenge that crime against my country.”

 

His country.

 

America.

 

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