Berlin Encounter Read Online Free Page A

infantry, often maligned but always needed. It is only through the eyes and ears of trusted men there on the spot that we shall ever truly understand what our electronic devices have gathered.”
    He reached up and thumped Jake’s chest. “At the same time, my friend, you would never be happy doing our man Helmsley’s job. Never. Not in a million years would you spend your days running from office to office, passing on just the right information to just the right ear, making sure that your budget remains intact, sitting through day after day of committee meetings, trying to advise presidents and their aides about international crises which have not yet happened and thus are not urgent in their eyes—”
    “A nightmare,” Jake declared. “I’d rather walk across a field of live coals in my bare feet.”
    “Precisely. What our man Helmsley fails to realize, just as it has escaped you up to now, is that you need each other. You complement each other.” Harry stopped and waited, making sure his words were sinking in. “The world is made up of a myriad of peoples. You will do far better looking for those who share your objectives than trying to live only with those who see the world through your perspective. And once you learn that lesson, you will need to teach it to the equally stubborn Helmsley.”
    “That makes sense,” Jake agreed.
    “You’re most welcome.” Harry gave him a frosty smile which did not descend from his eyes. “Would you accept a further bit of advice?”
    “From you? Always.”
    “Your orders and your instructions have been made extra complex, I am sorry to say, because a few of these fellows here feel threatened by your record, and would just as soon see you fail.”
    “I thought maybe something like that was going on.” Jake snapped the catches on the leather satchel he had been packing. “Still, they all seemed to make good sense.”
    “They make good sense to you here. ” Harry’s eyes were keen with the strength of hard-earned wisdom. “Take it from me, Jake. A successful field operative is one who has the sense to divert from orders when the situation merits it.” He patted Jake’s arm. “And a good field operative, my friend, is one who survives.”
    ———
    Twenty minutes of searching shadows to either side of the rain-drenched road satisfied Jake that the coast was as clear as it would ever get. Twice he had watched army convoys trundle by, but neither had appeared to be on alert. The woods had remained still and wet and empty. Jake returned to his truck just as dawn began to push away the grudgingly stubborn night. He felt chilled to the bone.
    While water heated on a paraffin stove, Jake began the job of changing his own and the truck’s identity.
    First he stripped off the truck’s green army-issue top, which proved not to be made of canvas at all, but rather of flimsy parachute silk. He then peeled off the green sidings, which were not wood and metal, but burlap stiffened with multiple layers of paint and nailed into place. The U.S. Army stars disappeared from the truck doors, as did the army license plates and stenciling across front and back. Finally the camouflaging was peeled off the hood and cabin top and the rear loading platform.
    Despite the low-lying clouds, the argument had gone, there was still a chance that their landing would be observed. So both trucks were to depart from the landing site declaring to all the world that they were indeed standard army issue.
    Jake pulled the shovel from the back of the truck, walked to a clearing beyond the trees, and began to dig. By the time the hole was deep enough, he was sweating and breathing hard. He returned to the truck, stripped off the sergeant’s uniform in which he had traveled, and dressed from the clothes in his satchel. He then buried both the uniform and the truck’s false covers. He strew pine needles and sticks over the fresh earth, then stepped back and surveyed the scene. It would not stand a