Waldron looked annoyed at the interruption but allowed it. “One definition of bonkers is an individual’s inability to face unpleasant facts.”
“Such as?”
“The love of your life has just been murdered, leaving behind an orphan infant whom you love. You have delusions about assuming the role of his father.”
“So what?”
“You can’t have him, now or ever. Can you face that fact?”
“I don’t consider it a fact.”
“You were not married to Mrs. Moriarty. Fact?”
“Yeah.”
“You have no legal rights at all with regard to the baby. Exactly who becomes his guardian will be decided in court between the Moriartys and the Calhouns. Colonel Frade said you’ve already traveled a rocky road with the Moriartys. True?”
“Okay.”
“They are going to press hard for custody of the child because he is the sole heir of his mother, who, Colonel Frade tells me, was a wealthy woman. Still with me?”
“I’m hardly penniless. But go on.”
“Colonel Frade tells me that the Calhouns—Mrs. Moriarty’s parents—would, in the best interests of the child, be reluctant to engage in a long and bitter court battle for his custody because they know that if they lost the battle, the Moriartys would probably refuse to let them have a meaningful relationship with the child, or any relationship at all. Do you think that’s true?”
“Now that I think about it, yes.”
“So, are you able to face the fact that when you passed the child to Mrs. Clay, that was the last contact you will have with him until he’s an adult?”
Cronley didn’t immediately reply.
A minute later, a tear slipped down his cheek.
“Well?” Waldron challenged.
Cronley cleared his throat. “I was thinking maybe if the fucking Moriartys let the Calhouns have Bruce overnight sometime, I could sneak in and see him. But that wouldn’t work, would it? They’d just keep the Calhouns from ever having him. I guess I’m fucked.”
“You guess you’re fucked?”
“I’m fucked. Period.”
They stared at each other, then Waldron said, “Captain Cronley, you have just passed the Waldron Psychiatric Test, having proven to me that you can think rationally under the most stressful and painful conditions.”
“Whoopee!”
“Why don’t we get out of here and see if the cardinal has called the safe house?” Waldron asked. “Assuming the phone still works.”
X
[ONE]
44-46 Beerenstrasse
Zehlendorf, Berlin, American Zone of Occupation, Germany
1614 21 April 1946
When they had left for the OMGUS Compound, the street had been jammed with German police vehicles. Now the only Germans in sight were two policemen standing in the street, keeping people away from the safe house.