Part 22 (1/2)
Hessinger sat-collapsed-back into his chair.
”But you will admit, I hope, that going off that way to corrupt the blue-eyed nicely teated blond without telling either Tiny or me was pretty stupid.”
”Yes, sir. I can see that now.”
”So what were you p.i.s.sed off about?”
Hessinger met his eyes for a moment, then averted them, then met them again.
”You really want me to tell you?”
”Yeah, Freddy, I really do.”
And I really do. I didn't say that to Freddy to make nice.
”My skills are underutilized around here,” Hessinger said.
”Freddy,” Tiny said, ”this place would collapse without you. And we all know it.”
”You mean, I am very good at such things as making hotel reservations, getting vehicles and other things from supply depots, et cetera?”
”And getting us paid,” Tiny said. ”Don't forget that.”
”Those are the things a company clerk does. So what you're saying is that I am a very good company clerk and supply sergeant.”
”Actually, Freddy, I think of you as our adjutant, our administrative officer.”
”Sergeants-and that's what I am, a pay grade E-4 sergeant-can't be adjutants or administrative officers.”
”You're also a special agent of the CIC,” Cronley argued.
”n.o.body here is a bona fide CIC agent,” Hessinger said. ”You just kept the badges so you can get away with doing things you shouldn't be doing.”
Jesus, he's p.i.s.sed off because I promoted Tedworth to first sergeant!
Or, that's part of it.
”Sergeant Hessinger,” Cronley said, ”at your earliest convenience, cut a promotion order promoting you to master sergeant.”
”You can't do that,” Hessinger said.
”Why not? You told me I had the authority to promote Sergeant Tedworth.”
”Sergeant Tedworth was a technical sergeant, pay grade E-6. You had the authority to promote him one grade, to first sergeant pay grade E-7. You can't skip grades when you promote people. People can be promoted not more than one pay grade at a time, and not more often than once a month.”
”Okay. Problem solved,” Tiny said. ”Cut an order today, promoting you to staff sergeant. Then, a month from today, cut another one making you a technical sergeant. And a month after that . . . getting the picture?”
”That would work. Thank you.”
”Happy now, Freddy?” Cronley asked.
”That I will get my overdue promotions, yes, but that does not deal with the basic problem of my being underutilized in the past, and will continue to be underutilized in the DCI.”
”And how, Staff Sergeant Hessinger,” Cronley asked, ”would you suggest I deal with that?”
”If you would transfer Sergeant Miller to me-right now I am borrowing him from First Sergeant Tedworth-that would free me to spend more time doing more important things than making hotel reservations and stocking the bar here.”
”Presumably, Captain Dunwiddie, you are aware that Sergeant Hessinger has been borrowing Sergeant Miller from Sergeant Tedworth?” Cronley asked.
Dunwiddie nodded.
”It's okay with Tedworth. He said we've been overworking Freddy. Miller's a good man.”
”That raises the question in my mind whether Sergeant Miller is anxious to solve our personnel problem, or whether Abraham Lincoln Tedworth pointed his finger at him and said, 'Get your a.s.s over to Hessinger's office and do what you're told.'”
”He came to me asking if I could use him,” Hessinger said.
”I would like to hear that he's a volunteer from his lips,” Cronley said. ”And now that I think about it, I would like to hear from Claudette Colbert's ruby-red lips that she, too, is really a volunteer. But Sergeant Miller first. Where is he, Freddy?”
”Outside, in the ambulance.”
”Outside, in the ambulance”? What the h.e.l.l is that all about?
”Go get him.”
When the door had closed on Hessinger, Dunwiddie said, ”Don't let this go to your head, Captain, sir, but I thought you handled that pretty well.”
”Me, too,” El Jefe said.
The door opened and one of Gehlen's men, a tall, gaunt blond man whose name Cronley couldn't recall but he remembered had been a major, came in.
He marched up to Mannberg, came to attention, clicked his heels, and handed him a sheet of paper. Mannberg read it, handed it to General Gehlen, and then ordered, ”There will probably be a reply. Wait outside.”
The former major bobbed his head, clicked his heels again, turned on his heels, and marched out of the room.
”We have heard from Seven-K,” Gehlen said. ”Quote, 'Herr Weitz expects his friend to pay him not later than the fourteenth.' End quote.”
”Today's the eighth,” Cronley said. ”That gives us six days to get to Vienna.”
”Vienna's not the other side of the world,” Dunwiddie said. ”That shouldn't be a problem.”
The door opened again.
Hessinger and Staff Sergeant Miller came in.
Miller was as coal black as Tiny Dunwiddie, but where Dunwiddie was ma.s.sive, Miller was thin, almost gaunt. He towered over Hessinger.
Christ, Tiny's six-four and this guy is six, seven inches taller than that. He has to be close to seven feet tall.
Sergeant Miller marched up to Cronley, came to attention, and crisply saluted.