Free The One Man by Andrew Gross Page A

officer stood up as well. He was shorter, thin, with dark hair that was slightly receding already, though he had a young face with thin lips.
    Blum had no idea how the person responsible for the U.S. intelligence network for all the war even knew who he was.
    â€œLieutenant Blum, is that right…?” The white-haired Donovan came from around his desk.
    â€œSir.” Blum stepped up hesitantly, pushing back the urge to glance behind him in case there was another officer with the same name standing there.
    â€œLieutenant Nathan Blum, assigned to the Fourth Division, UE-5…?” the OSS chief rattled off, seeing Blum’s indecision. “I have asked the right officer up here, haven’t I?”
    â€œYes, sir. That is me.”
    â€œThen relax, Lieutenant. Why don’t you take a seat over here.” Donovan motioned to the long conference table where the captain stood on the other side. “Please…” Colonel Donovan said, indicating a chair near the head. Then he pulled out his own chair at the head of the table and sat. “Cup of coffee?”
    His legs feeling slightly rubbery, Blum took a seat. “Please.”
    â€œHow do you like it, Lieutenant?” the Big Man asked. A secretary came in with a tray and put it down at the far end of the long table.
    â€œBlack, please, sir.”
    â€œMe too. Since I was a kid. There are many things that can get an old Irishman into trouble, but, in my book, coffee, and as much as you can drink it, isn’t one of them…”
    Blum, who had been shot at before he was twenty and who had made his way past checkpoints after curfew with Germans who wouldn’t blink to execute him on the spot, had never felt his heart beat as rapidly as it did now as the man responsible for America’s vast intelligence network addressed him face-to-face. His eyes took in the office’s impressive surroundings.
    â€œYou can relax, Lieutenant. All reports are that you’re doing a first-class job down there. This is Captain Strauss.” He nodded to the thin, dark-featured officer. “He’s been handling some operations for me. I see a request in your file for a transfer, to that new outfit they’re putting together up at Fort Ritchie, boys of European Jewish descent…”
    â€œYes, sir,” Blum replied. He still felt a slight hesitation when addressing someone of stature and education in his new tongue. “I’m happy with what I do here, sir. It’s just that … that I feel I can best serve—”
    â€œNo need to explain, son,” the colonel interrupted him. “That’s a good outfit they’re putting together up there, and I have no doubt you’d be a real asset.”
    â€œThank you, sir.” The secretary poured the coffee.
    â€œIt’s just that Captain Strauss and I are putting something together too. I’ve spoken with your superior officers and they tell me you’ve been quite open with your desire to do something … how shall we say it…? Something more.”
    â€œYes, sir. That is correct,” Blum answered, his heart picking up a beat in anticipation.
    â€œYou already are doing something, son. My people tell me you’re one of the most capable translators we have here. That’s already important work,” he nodded, “and it all helps the war effort. In fact, I’ve read through some of the communiqués you’ve passed on.”
    â€œThat’s very kind of you, sir.” Inwardly, Blum felt a surge of pride. “Wild Bill” Donovan actually knew of him.
    â€œYes, the captain here was just briefing me … About your family. Back in Poland.”
    Blum glanced at the other officer, who had so far remained silent. He assumed that what had motivated him to enlist was in his file. “Yes, they were killed in my hometown of Krakow,” he said in as matter-of-fact a tone as he could manage.