The FBI-KGB War [antikvár]

Unfinished Business It was one of the evenings in tiie week between Christmas and New Year's Eve of 1944. In New York City a fine snow was falling, and it was cold and dark. Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia had ordered that New York's lights be turned out so that the city wouldn't provide a bright backdrop against which German U-boats might spot moving merchant ships. I was on the streets of the upper reaches of Manhattan, one among eleven hundred special agents of the FBI who were taking part in one of the largest manhunts the FBI had ever mounted—a search for an armed German saboteur who had been landed in the United States by U-boat and whom we believed to be somewhere in New York. Small groups of people passed me, on the way to and from seasonal parties. For the partygoers the war was far away, though in Europe the Battle of the Bulge raged and in the Pacific fighting was fierce on several fronts. An Allied final victory didn't seem quite so assured as it had a few weeks before. I should've been at a Christmas party myself—after all, I was twenty-six years old, single, employed, and a young man in a city that had sent most of its young men to war. But no such luck. I tmdged through the snow canvassing every two-bit hotel and rooming house, and cursing quietly to myself. Agents had come to New York from as far away as Balti-