"Good." The colonel grimaced slightly, then turned his glance to Anna, fingers drumming briefly on his desk. "I am going to tell you both some things which you will discuss with no one except each other. Absolutely no one."
He looked sternly at Montag before continuing. "I have a mission for you. The details have not been worked out yet, but I will describe the main features. The Americans and British are expected to assault the north coast of France, in May or possibly June. The Wehrmacht has prepared powerful defenses to repulse allied landings. Your task is to disrupt Allied headquarters in England by projecting psychotic images into the minds of key personnel, especially General Eisenhower and his staff."
He examined Montag. "Do you know what psychotic means, Herr Montag?"
"No sir, colonel sir!"
At least the man could recognize and admit when he didn't know something; many brighter men could not do that. Landgraf turned to Anna. "Fraulein Hofstetter, explain psychotic to Herr Montag."
"Psychotic," she answered wryly, "means insane. Crazy." The simplicity of her answer startled Landgraf, whose degrees were in psychology. "Good," he said after a moment. "Now, Herr Montag, Fraulein Hofstetter will go with you to England, where she will get you safely into the hands of the Abwehr-people who will help you. They will get you near enough to the enemy high command that with binoculars you will be able to see their supreme commander and other high-ranking officers. See them well enough that afterward you can attack them with images. The Abwehr will have a building diagram of their headquarters, with offices and conference rooms marked on it."
"Do you understand?"
"Yessir, colonel sir. The-those men… Our people…"
"The Abwehr," Landgraf said helpfully. "The intelligence service. Our spies in England."
"Our spies will take me to a place, some building, and show me who the enemy commander is. Then I will make him crazy, even if he is in a room I can't see. Our spies will have a paper that shows where the different rooms are."
Again Landgraf's eyebrows raised. He hadn't expected that much understanding so quickly. "You are going to do well, Herr Montag. I have great confidence in you. Fraulein Hofstetter will tell you more when we know more."
It happened sooner than Macurdy expected. The next morning, Anna Hofstetter took him to an unused classroom, equipped only with a table and some chairs, and they sat down.
They would, she told him, travel by train to the submarine base at Saint-Nazaire, in France. From there they'd be taken by submarine to a beach on the east coast of England, put ashore by rubber boat, picked up by German agents, and taken to an Abwehr safehouse in London. From that point they'd be briefed further by the Abwehr station chief.
"Meanwhile," she went on, "it will be well for you to know a little about me. My father is German and my mother is English, a member of a fascist family. I lived in England until 1932, when I was thirteen years old, and for several years afterward we took our holidays there, so my English is excellent. I know English geography, much of it first hand, and I'm familiar with London. I am to be in full charge of the mission, and my function is to provide you with whatever you need to carry it out."
"I am not subject to the Abwehr station chief. On the contrary, I can command him, within limits. His function in this is to do whatever is necessary to support you."
She caught his gaze and held it. "I do not doubt that you understand me. You are considerably more intelligent than Colonel Landgraf imagines. You have been concealing your intelligence, pretending to be dull-witted. Herr Doktor Professor Schurz agrees with me on that. If I am to work with you in dangerous situations, I will have to know why you pretend to be otherwise."
"It is nothing very complicated," Macurdy said. "Even with my crippled leg, I could be called into the army in a clerical role, or manning some flak battery. But if I am thought to be feeble-minded, there is much less risk. Also, fewer demands are made on me."
Her aura reflected skepticism. "Is your limp as bogus as your feeble-mindedness?"
In answer, he pulled his left trouser leg above the knee. She grimaced at the scarring.
"It appears to be genuine," she said, and ended the briefing. As Macurdy walked the few yards to Greszak's office, he examined the morning and what he'd learned, both about the mission and Anna Hofstetter.
She'd talked with Schurz about him. Schurz knew he spoke English-dreamed in it!-but apparently hadn't told her. Meanwhile, Anna's aura showed that she mistrusted him, had for some time, yet she hadn't blown the whistle.
Schurz, Berta, and now Anna had covered for him. He would never have imagined such a thing. Strange, very strange.
For several more days, Macurdy continued his training under Greszak. On one of them, Anna took him to the room he thought of now as their private conference room. On their way, they passed Tsulgax in the corridor. As usual, Tsulgax scowled at him.
"I wonder why Herr Tsulgax dislikes me so?" he murmured. "I have never said or done anything to him."
"He doesn't simply dislike you," Anna said drily. "He hates you. He considers you a threat to his father."
Macurdy's buzz-cut crawled. "His father? Who is his father?"
"The Crown Prince. To whom he is thoroughly devoted."
"But-how am I a threat to the Crown Prince?"
"I don't know. Nor does Tsulgax. It is simply something he feels. He believes that he senses the future. Not sees it, but senses it." Macurdy turned her answer over in his mind without saying anything. A threat to Kurgosz? He didn't even dislike Kurgosz, really.
They entered the room. "So you read their minds," he murmured.
"Not the Voitar's minds. They are totally opaque to me. But Tsulgax has no more shielding than he has compassion."
"Do you read mine?" Montag asked.
"I think you know the answer to that. No, not yours. Some people, and most psychics, have a shield which, if they feel sufficient trust, they lower, knowingly or not. But even if they do not lower it, I can sense their emotions and attitudes, and learn much from those. I have learned much about you."
Macurdy met her gaze mildly. "I know what people feel sometimes."
"I am sure you do. Herr Schurz thinks you read auras, and I believe he is right."
Macurdy neither verified nor denied it. "You do not show very much what you feel," he said, "even to me. But I don't mind. It is not necessary that I know."
Her aura and face both reflected wry irritation. "Do not be coy with me, Herr Montag. If we are to work together, please show me some respect."
"My apologies. I do respect you, and I am ready to listen." She looked away, gathering her thoughts, then returned her gaze to him. "There is serious risk in what they have planned for us," she said, "but considering everything, I believe we can succeed." She paused. "Of course, if we are captured, we may be executed."
He ignored the comment. "Can you read the Colonel's thoughts?"
"As necessary"
"Does he know that?"
"He knows I am a telepath, but has decided not to be troubled by it."
"What have you learned from him?" He asked the question as much for her reaction as for information.
Her gaze was direct, calm but intent. "He has considerable confidence in both of us. Remarkably, he trusts us."
"Have you learned anything from him about the Voitar?"
"Quite a bit. It seems they came here through some `opening' on the Witches' Ridge. But you know more about that than I. Apparently in their country, explosives are useless, but they are interested in steam engines and water pumps. Also in ship building'."
Ship building? That definitely seemed false.
"In return they train us, mostly without useful results, probably because of our shortcomings as psychics, rather than theirs as teachers. Also, eight of them will travel to northern France, to help fight the invasion when it comes. To do what it seems we cannot-create terror monsters that are real, physical, and set them against the enemy."