The Scarletti Inheritance - By Robert Ludlum Page 0,4

'That is correct.'

'And now he wants it back or he refuses to make contact with Kroeger.'

'Yes, sir.'

'I trust you have pointed out to him the illegality of his position?'

'I have personally threatened him with a court-martial - his only reply was that it's our choice to refuse him.'

'And then no contact is made with Kroeger?'

'Yes, sir... It's my opinion that Major Canfield would rather face spending the rest of his life in a military prison than alter his position.

Cordell Hull rose from his chair and faced the general. 'Would you care to summarize?'

'It is my belief that the April Red referred to by Heinrich Kroeger is the boy, Andrew Roland. I think he's Kroeger's son. The initials are the same. The boy was born in April, nineteen twenty-six. I believe that Heinrich Kroeger is Ulster Scarlett.'

'He died in Zurich.' Hull watched the general closely.

'The circumstances are suspect. There is on record only a death certificate from an obscure court in a small village thirty miles outside of Zurich and untraceable affidavits of witnesses never heard of before or since.'

Hull stared coolly into the general's eyes. 'You realize what you're saying? Scarlatti is one of the corporate giants.'

'I do, sir. I contend further that Major Canfield is aware of Kroeger's identity and intends to destroy the file.'

'Do you believe that it's a conspiracy? A conspiracy to conceal the identity of Kroeger?'

'I don't know... I'm not very good at putting into words another person's motives. But Major Canfield's reactions seem so intensely private that I'm inclined to believe that it's a highly personal matter.'

Hull smiled. 'I think you're very good with words... However, you do believe that the truth is in the file? And if it is, why would Canfield bring it to our attention? Certainly he knows that if we can get it for him, we certainly can get it for ourselves. We might never have been aware of it, had he kept silent.'

'As I said, Canfield's an experienced man. I'm sure he's acting on the premise that we soon will be aware of it.'

'How?'

'Through Kroeger... And Canfield has set the condition that the file's seals be intact. He's an expert, sir. He'd know if they were tampered with.'

Cordell Hull walked around his desk past the brigadier with his hands clasped behind his back. His gait was stiff, his health obviously failing. Brayduck had been right, thought the secretary of state. If even the specter of a relationship between the powerful American industrialists and the German High Command became known, regardless of how remote or how long in the past, it could tear the country apart. Especially during a national election.

'In your judgment if we delivered the file to Major Canfield, would he produce... April Red... for this meeting with Kroeger?'

'I believe he would.'

'Why? It's a cruel thing to do to an eighteen-year-old boy.'

The general hesitated. 'I'm not sure he has an alternative. There's nothing to prevent Kroeger from making other arrangements.'

Hull stopped pacing and looked at the brigadier general. He had made up his mind. 'I shall have the president sign an executive order for the file. However, and frankly I place this as a condition for his signature, your suppositions are to remain between the two of us.'

'The two of us?'

'I shall brief President Roosevelt on the substance of our conversation, but I will not burden him with conjectures which may prove to be unfounded. Your theory may be nothing more than a series of recorded coincidences easily explained.'

'I understand.'

'But if you are correct, Heinrich Kroeger could trigger an internal collapse in Berlin. Germany's in a death struggle.'

'As you've pointed out, he's had extraordinary staying power. He's part of the elite corps surrounding Hitler. The Praetorian Guard revolts against Caesar. If you're wrong, however, then we must both think of two people who will soon be on their way to Bern. And may God have mercy on our souls.'

Brigadier General Ellis replaced the pages in the white folder, picked up the attache case at his feet, and walked to the large black door. As he closed it behind him, he saw that Hull was staring at him. He had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Hull was not thinking about the general, however. He was remembering that warm afternoon long ago in the House of Representatives. Member after member had gotten up and read glowing tributes into the Congressional Record eulogizing a brave young American who was presumed dead. Everyone from both parties had expected him, the