Fellowship of Fear by Aaron Elkins Read Free Book Online

original furnishings. He made a richly satisfying meal from a bottle of Mosel wine and a plate of
weisskase,
a creamy cheese served with heavy rye bread and small dishes of paprika and raw onions.
    At the hotel, he half-expected Frau Gross to refuse him entrance, but she seemed almost friendly. She wouldn’t go so far as to return his smile, of course, but she did give him his key—which had been found under the bureau—and wished him a good night.
    He had a moment’s nervousness when he opened the door to his room, looking into the alcove and bathroom before closing it. The impulse to peek under the bed, however, he resisted, drawing a firm line between sensible precautions and outright paranoia. He set the alarm for o7:00 a.m. so he could get an early start on the military red tape involved in making travel arrangements for Sicily. By 8:30 he was happily, dreamlessly asleep.
     
     
       THE great stone eagles on either side of the entrance had once gripped laureled swastikas in their talons, but those had long ago been chipped away by young GIs laughing into the newsreel cameras, so that now they did duty as American eagles, guarding the headquarters of USAREUR—United States Army Europe—the heart of America’s military presence on the Continent.
    The eagles depressed Gideon, as did the rest of the giant complex. Despite the bright USAREUR banner over the gate, the architecture of the huge structures proclaimed them relics of Hitler’s Germany, and the vast, cobblestoned interior courtyard conjured up maleficent platoons of gray-jacketed, goose-stepping Wehrmacht soldiers. Fortunately, the paperwork went faster than he had expected. By 11:30 he had his identity card, his military European driver’s license, and his travel orders for Sicily. He was also very hungry and knew that at least part of his black mood came from having forgotten to have breakfast.
    The cafeteria was a relief, dowdy and American, with its noisy young GIs and the friendly smell of grilling hamburgers. Gideon got a cheeseburger, french fries, and a strawberry milkshake, the most American lunch he could think of. Then, as a fitting end to the meal, he had coffee and apple pie.
    Much restored, he brought a second cup of coffee to his table and began to go over his interview with Marks and Delvaux the day before. At the time, he had been too tired to think of many questions, but he had plenty today.
    If they didn’t know what the Russians were looking for or why they were looking for it, what made them think anybody was looking for anything at all? And why did they think that whatever it was would turn up at the particular bases to which he was assigned, as opposed to the hundreds of others in Europe? Or was that what his surprise schedule was all about? Had Dr. Rufus assigned him to "sensitive" bases on instructions from NSD? Could Dr. Rufus be an agent himself? It didn’t seem likely.
    And, above all, why
him
? Why come to a new, green anthropology professor for this kind of thing? On the other hand, was he the only one? Was it possible that
every
faculty member was being treated to the same routine?
    Maybe, but improbable. But then, was any of it probable? He had already put his questions about the schedule to Dr. Rufus and learned nothing except that they made the chancellor nervous (unless that was the way he always was).
    When he finally finished at USAREUR, he went across the street to USOC Administration and headed for the faculty library to do some class preparation. He was still mulling over his questions when he passed a door that read, "Office of the Registrar, D. Swinnerton." On the spur of the moment, he went in. Although he didn’t expect her to tell him anything voluntarily, she might unwittingly give something away if he were discreet. It was pretty unlikely, but really, where was the fun in being in the spy business if you couldn’t play-act at it a little?
    At the back of a room in which four or five clerks sat working