Excerpt Starbuck looked up as the door opened and Lieutenant Smallwood entered with a young woman following behind him. "General Starbuck, this is Captain Melissa Montana." He spoke the words as though he had marbles in his mouth, and the look on his face was that of a stricken man. Once the announcement was made, he quickly left, glancing once more at the stunning woman beside him.
Starbuck deliberately remained seated behind his desk, grimacing around his cigar, trying not to show the surprise that raced through him at the sight of Captain Montana. He was struck by the beautiful face that held the clearest blue eyes he had ever seen, and the flawless skin, high cheekbones and the erect, confident carriage told him at once that this girl was a product of the finest finishing schools that one could find. That she was a highly-rated lawyer was incidental to him, he loved women who looked like this one, tall, high-breasted, sleek, lithe, bright, educated, competent, confident. He cleared his throat. Maybe this mission was looking up after all. He took the cigar from his mouth and flipped the ashes carelessly on the floor.
"Just as I thought, that little bum Wentworth is saddling me with a prune-faced hag of a woman lawyer who'll fill her britches the minute a shell goes off."
Her smile was a sensual treat. "You wish, General, I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you, and you can't do this mission without me."
He instantly liked her go-to-hell attitude, and grinned at her. "You think you've got my number, don't you, Captain?" She sat in the chair in front of his desk without being asked and crossed her legs slowly, watching his eyes follow her movements, knowing he could hear the sensuous whisper of her last pair of precious nylons as she moved.
"I know all about you General, you don't impress me a bit, and I'm certainly not afraid of you. I've known men like you all my life. All talk and no show."
He looked at her without speaking for a moment. "You might get shot at on this deal. That scare you?"
Her smile returned. "Not unless you're doing the shooting, Sir."
He nodded, looking at her patrician features, and a twinge raced through him. "C'mon, Captain, lets go into the situation room." He rose and led her through a door into another room. This one was dominated by a large map of Germany and it's surrounding countries. He walked over to it and pointed to Berlin.
He turned to her as an afterthought struck him. "What's your nick-name? I can't call my translator Melissa, for Christ's sake!"
"My friends call me Misty," she replied slowly. "Can't you just call me Captain?"
"Naw, hell, I like to call my people by their first names or their nick-names. Misty's great. I'll call you that." He turned to the map. As far as he was concerned, the matter of her name had been decided.
"Okay, here's Berlin," he said quickly, pointing to the map, "we're here at Kassel, West of the Weser river. Berlin is 200 miles to the East. On this mission, we're going overland by jeep to Berlin under a flag of truce." He faced her for a moment. "Wentworth tell you why?"
She shook her head. "No. Not a thing."
He pulled his cigar from his mouth. "Well, Misty, you and I are gonna go talk to Hitler."
She stifled the quick gasp that tried to escape from her throat. "Hitler? Talk to him about what?"
He laughed. "We're gonna con that bastard into getting the hell out of Berlin before the Russians get there. We want him to go to Berchtesgaden. And we're gonna con him into having his troops surrender, unit by unit."
She drew in a deep breath and remembered the briefing she had received from Colonel Buford at SHAEF. "You can't," she said tightly, knowing he would reject her objections.
He looked at her in surprise. "What? Why can't I?"
She frowned. "Because, General, SHAEF and the political leaders of the Allied countries have made agreements about unconditional surrender. Only the Supreme Commander has the authority to accept for the US, and officers from England and Russia and the other allied nations have to be present as well. You can't do it. It's not legal."
He snorted his derision and chewed on his cigar. "Bullshit! Just as I thought. You haven't read the fine print in those agreements." He pointed to several locations on the map. "All along this line German military units are operating practically on their own, if we can believe the reports we're getting. We think their lines of communications with Hitler have been disrupted or destroyed, or they're sporadic at best. Those individual units are quite able to surrender at any time, love, and those will be tactical military decisions, not political. They will not be surrendering for the German government, they will be surrendering individual units. All very legal. And that's what we're gonna arrange with Hitler."
She stared at the map. "Don't call me that."
His head came around. "What?"
"Love. I'm not. I never will be."
"Sure, Misty. I didn't mean anything by that. It's a habit."
"Of course."
He led her back to his desk. "You ready to leave?"
"Whenever you are."
"Damn, that's my girl!"
Her lips were thin and unsmiling as she replied. "I'm not that, either."
"We'll see." He escorted her to the door. "Talk to Lieutenant Smallwood. He'll get you anything you want. But be ready by 06:00 in the morning. We'll leave then."
"Fine. I'll be ready."
"Oh, by the way, Misty?"
She stopped and looked at him, her guard up. "Yes?"
He took the cigar from his mouth and grinned at her. "Don't smile at Smallwood. He'll have a damned heart attack." In spite of herself, she laughed and left. She took in a deep breath, elated at the feeling that raced through her. So far so good.
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