by Ward Wagher
Ben Gurion looked at Rabin. “You see our dilemma? The militias are a critical part of our defense strategy. We do not have the ability to force them while we are fighting for our existence.”
“We must subdue them by any means necessary,” Meyerson said. “We hold the borders. With the Germans in Egypt, we do not have any worries there for the moment. The French still hold some influence in the Levant. Abdullah is not happy with us, but he is still speaking.”
“Reuven, is this something you can take care of?” the prime minister asked.
“If so directed, we will do so.”
“Wait,” Carrin said. “Do we really want to do this?”
“Any resident of Judaea who will not submit to the government is a traitor, ipso facto,” Shiloah stated. “We have already stated that any Arab who submits to the Judaean government will be welcomed in the land. Anyone who does not will be anathema. We can ask no less of our own people.”
“That is a very good point,” Meyerson said. “This is not the time for half measures.”
Shiloah looked at Ben Gurion who shrugged. “We do we what we must, Reuven.”
He turned back to the map. “If you are confident we can maintain these borders, I will approve. We will never have a chance to obtain our historical lands as easily as now. The Arab League will find benefactors. They will make it difficult for us to expand in the future.”
“Who is going to help the Arabs?” Carrin asked.
“The British have influence in Baghdad,” Meyerson said. “The Shah of Persia is not happy with us. We know where Abdullah of the Trans-Jordan stands.”
“The Soviets have been active in Damascus,” Shiloah said.
“Do you know that for a fact?” Rabin asked.
Shiloah nodded. “I have people in Damascus who are following this. Stalin apparently likes to fish in troubled waters.”
“He is active in Persia as well,” Meyerson commented.
“We know that Schloss made an informal agreement with Stalin that the Germans will stay out of Persia if he stays out of Iraq.”
“Do you know that for a fact?” Carrin asked.
Shiloah shrugged. His contact with the German SS had told him about it, but he didn’t feel the need to share that with the group. The Germans were being helpful at the moment, but considering how quickly their attitudes had changed over the past year, he wasn’t sure if they would remain long-term friends.
“Very well,” Ben Gurion said, “You have all heard that Churchill finally agreed to meet with Schloss?”
“What are the chances of them actually signing a treaty?” Meyerson asked.
“Quite good, I would think” Ben Gurion replied. “They have a cease-fire in place, and the longer that holds, the more difficult it will be to break it.”
“Churchill was so adamant that the preconditions would be Germany abandoning its European conquests,” Shiloah said. “It seems his hold on the premiership is precarious. Plus, unofficially, the Germans have offered to give Egypt back to them.”
“I hadn’t heard that,” Ben Gurion said. “That would change the equation here.”
“Indeed,” Rabin said. “The British may insist on holding the east bank of the Suez.”
“And I suspect Schloss will tell them they have to take it up with us,” Shiloah said. “That will put them on the spot. The idiots.”
“Regardless, my friend,” Ben Gurion responded, “in the long run I think we may want to encourage the goodwill of the British government.”
“Oh, I agree with you,” Shiloah said. “It’s just that they are so insufferable at times. They view themselves are the final arbiters of who is civilized and who is not.”
Myerson snorted. “You have the right of it, Reuven. Their empire is crumbling around them, and they have not the least idea of what to do about it. When it’s over and done with, all they will have left is their noblesse oblige.”
Everyone in the room chuckled.
“As I understand it,” Shiloah commented, “the queen herself twisted Churchill’s arm pretty hard to agree to the meeting with Schloss. She feels that Britain needs to get out of this war, so they can go to the aid of the Australians.”
“Is that so?” Rabin asked.
“I believe her exact words were something like Screw the French. Family is more important than friends.”
“My goodness,” Myerson murmured, “You are plugged in, aren’t you?”
Ben Gurion was privately amused at Reuven Shiloah. The man reveled at being inscrutable, but he also could not resist dropping these little tidbits. But the important message had been passed. Shiloah understood his instructions to bring the militias to heel. The Judaean prime minister was satisfied his intelligence chief would do whatever was necessary to accomplish the task. He would regret any loss of lives required, but ultimately, the survival of the Jewish state in Palestine was on the line. Ben Gurion had nurtured it as he had his own children. And he would defend it just as fiercely.
§ § §
September 2, 1942; 5 PM
Luftwaffe Base Alpha
Cairo, Egypt
The battered Focke-Wulf Condor rolled to a stop next to an unused hangar on the Luftwaffe base near Cairo, Egypt. The hangar was unused by the Luftwaffe; however, it was guarded by a platoon of SS soldiers. An equally disheveled SS Major climbed down from the Condor and returned the salute from the captain of the guard troops.
“Is the building secure, Captain?” Major Walter Reichegger asked.
“It is as secure as we can make it, Sir.”
“Fine. We will roll the aircraft into the hangar where it will be serviced tonight. Are the vehicles ready for the transshipment?”
“Sir, another Condor has arrived to take the shipment.” The captain pointed to a much cleaner looking Fw-200C parked near the hangar. We are instructed to give you whatever assistance you request, but the cargo needs to be placed on the other aircraft.”
“Who gave those instructions, Captain?” Reichegger’s eyes turned very cold.
“Sir, Captain Strang. Of Colonel Grosce’s office.”
“And, who is Colonel Grosce, Captain?”
“He is the senior officer of the stalag here.”
“I think perhaps I need to speak to your Captain Strang.”
“I can get him on the telephone immediately, Sir.”
“Ask him to come out here to the airbase, please.” The major’s voice was the temperature of liquid helium.
“At once, Sir,” the captain stammered. He turned and trotted into the hangar, where Reichegger presumed a telephone was located.
Fifteen minutes later a 1939 Austin 28 rolled to a stop next to the hangar. Reichegger studied the impeccably dressed SS captain as he got out of the car. The man looked around and then spotted the Major. He strolled over and stopped in front of Reichegger.
“I understand you asked for me, Major...”
“Reichegger,” supplied the Major. “Walter Reichegger. And who would you be, Captain?”
“Erich Strang… Sir.”
There was just enough hesitation in the captain’s speech to sound insolent. The captain of the guard unit stepped back so that he would not be obviously listening to the conversation. His few, brief meetings with Strang had revealed the SS captain’s unbounded arrogance. The matching arrogance of Walter Reichegger indicated that the meeting would be interesting.
“What is your authority, Captain, to order my shipment to leave by aeroplane?”
“I believe my authority, Major, is the same as yours. The Reichsprotektor informed me that you would be arriving with a special shipment and that I was to ensure its secure storage until transport arrived. He also informed me that he had arranged for a Condor flight to transport the shipment.”
Major Reichegger scowled. “Sending the shipment by air is unnecessarily risky, Captain. A lot of people would be unhappy if we were to lose it over the Mediterranean or the Alps.”
“I have not gotten into the ha
bit of questioning Herr Rainer’s instructions, Major. Besides, the shipment arrived on a Condor. And, I must say, the Condor sent down here by the Reichsprotektor looks to be far more reliable than the one the shipment arrived on.”
“Do you always judge a book by its cover, Captain. Besides, I believe your first order of business is to give me the code word.”
“Pisces.”
“Capricorn,” Reichegger responded.
“Now that we have established my bona fides, Major, what are your instructions?”
“The code word was given,” Reichegger said, “I have now transferred responsibility of the shipment into your capable hands. How would you like to proceed?”
“When are you returning to… where you came from?” Strang asked.
“I would like to leave tomorrow morning. We came up from Khartoum, and we need to return that way.”
“To Likasi?”
“Have you been briefed on the project?” Reichegger asked.
“Only in very general terms. The shipment is part of a top-secret project for the Reich. Beyond that, the Reichsprotektor told me I didn’t need to know. I don’t mind fencing with you, Major, but I do not take liberties with Herr Rainer.”
“Wise of you,” Reichegger murmured. “Very well, let me suggest that you pull my aircraft into the hangar and unload the cargo. We will then service the aircraft. After dark, we will pull it out and pull your Condor in. You will load the cargo and make your own plans to depart. You are departing with the cargo, correct?”
“Yes, Herr Major. I will accompany the cargo to Rome, and then return here.”
“Thank you, Captain. Now, if you could provide transportation for me and my pilots to your officers’ quarters, we are weary.”
Strang turned to the guard captain. “Captain,” he snapped, “provide a corporal to take the Major and the pilots the Officers’ quarters. Use my car. Find out what time need to leave in the morning and arrange for a ride. Then come back here.”
The guard captain jumped to attention. “At once, Herr Captain.”
Strang stood with his hands on his hips as he watched the group from the Condor ride away in his car. The disheveled major had to be very good at what he did if Rainer entrusted him a cargo of such apparent importance. He wished the man would show a little pride in his appearance. The SS was establishing new traditions under Karl Rainer and Strang wanted it to be a professional looking organization.
He turned to the ground crew for his Condor. “You will roll the Major’s Condor into the hangar and service it. You will also unload the cargo. See to it that the guard on this building is doubled.
The crew jumped to attention, and then hurried off to do his bidding. All SS officers were arrogant in the view of the crew, but Strang also knew what he was doing. If they did their jobs, he would condescend to be fair, and somewhat approachable to them. He had repeatedly proven he would look out for his men.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
September 4, 1942; 7 PM
The Galloping Junker Restaurant
Berlin, Germany
“I was curious of what you thought about the article about the Reich Chancellor in today’s newspaper,” Misty Simpson said. “I know you told me that the government was trying to loosen their grip on the Press, but I wasn’t sure I believed you.”
Rainer smiled at her. “It is pleasant to prove you wrong on occasion. But, you do have me at a bit of a disadvantage. I have not seen the article in question.”
She reached down to her purse. She had begun to carry a much more substantial bag, and she had thought to slide a copy of the Berliner Zeitung in before she left her office for lunch. She enjoyed her lunches with Karl Rainer, but something always tempted her to torment him, and she knew she was good at it.
She laid the paper on the table and unfolded it. “This article right here.” She pointed to it with a red-painted fingernail.
She watched as he picked up the paper and began reading the article. She watched his eyes moving back and forth across the copy and saw the color drain from his face. He looked up at her.
“To be honest, this is not something I would have expected to see in the newspaper. This is close to crossing the line into slander.”
“You honestly had not seen this article?”
“No, and I must speak to the people in my office about this. Someone should have caught it. I am surprised one of the other papers has not called the Communications Office for a comment.”
“Where would such a story come from?” she asked. “I mean, to suggest that the Reich Chancellor is an impostor. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know exactly where it came from,” he almost spat. “And you are absolutely correct. It makes no sense.”
She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He sputtered and ran down. “I don’t really think this is something I need to share with you.”
She tilted her head and looked at him coquettishly. She was well aware of how that affected him. “Surely, it’s not a secret now, is it, Karl?”
He scowled at her. She had indeed affected him, and he knew he was under her spell. He still had not completely learned how to deal with the devastating American woman.
“Herr Schloss's dentist got his records mixed up. He thought he had discovered inconsistencies and concluded that the Reich Chancellor is on not the same man who visited his office a few years ago.”
“That sounds a little strange,” she responded.
“Oh, it was very strange. And to make matters worse, he was able to convince some fairly high-ranking people that this was the case.”
She sat there for a few moments thinking about what he had just said. Her eyes opened wider as she put some of the pieces together.
“Canaris?”
“Among others, yes. This article also indicates that they have decided not to drop it.”
“And you want me to communicate the details to Washington?” she asked.
“Let them know, please, that this theory is not taken seriously by sane people.”
She snorted softly. “We have our own small subset of the population that sees conspiracies under every rock. Nobody takes them seriously.”
“Then you understand what I am talking about.”
“Yes, I do,” she said. “But, while Canaris is apparently a fool, you should not underestimate these people. They could cause you great trouble.”
He tapped an index finger on the newspaper. “It already has.”
“What are you going to do?”
He swung his head to one side with a sigh. “I don’t know. Obviously, I will talk to Herr Schloss about it.”
Rainer chuckled softly.
“What?” she asked.
“After the death of Hannalore Schloss, and then after the Führer’s death, I often thought that Herr Schloss was a different man. I had worked for him for several years. He was always driven, but I think the shock of losing his wife, and then being thrust into national leadership changed him.”
“A different man?”
“You know what I mean,” he replied. “When you have been through the fire, it changes you.”
“But, an impostor?” she asked again. “How could that even be possible?”
“Well, it is obviously not, of course. How could you even disguise someone so that his closest friends and associates would not recognize the difference? I suppose if he had an identical twin. But, he doesn’t. And by his age, identical twins are not identical any longer. No, these things happen because someone wants to believe the impossible.”
“But, Canaris?” she asked.
“That defies explanation. It was like he completely stripped a gear. He has always been a quiet anti-Nazi, and supportive of what Herr Schloss was doing.” He shook his head. “I am the nation’s policeman, now. I see many things. People do some strange things. But, this surprised me.”
“What will happen to him?”
“He was under house arrest. However, Herr Schloss made
the point that the man had not actually done anything illegal. Idiotic, yes. We let him have a quiet retirement in his house near the coast.”
“And you don’t agree with the Reich Chancellor.” She made the statement.
Rainer smiled. “Herr Schloss has been proven right time and again. When we have a difference of opinion, he makes the final decision. Sometimes he takes my advice; sometimes not.”
“You haven’t answered,” she accused.
He tilted his head and smiled again. “Would you like dessert, Misty?”
She understood he had closed the subject. She realized that Karl Rainer would say exactly what he intended, and nothing else. She reminded herself that she had become a friend of one of the triumvirate that ruled Germany. An unspoken condition of sharing a table with the Reichsprotektor was the understanding that there were areas they could not go. Misty wondered how she had come to love this man, who had so many hidden compartments. Would he ever be able to share his secrets with her? Would she really want him to?
Back at the office, Misty Simpson hammered at the keys of the typewriter as she put together her contact report. She wondered at sharing the details of her love life, sterile as it was. She did not even consider withholding information from Director Donovan.
Life was complicated. She remembered her shallow friends at Columbia University who talked about having a complicated life. How little they truly understood. She was First Secretary to the American Consulate, now Embassy, in Berlin. She was also the OSS Chief of Station in Berlin. She was a spy and worked hard to collect information about Germany and the Germans to feed the voracious appetite of Washington. She had become a good friend to Karl Rainer, the Reichsprotektor, without really wanting to. And, she was one of the key conduits between the American and German governments.
When Gordon Smoke entered her office, she added him to her list of complications. The man was incapable of just easing into the room. Every move of his needed to be the result of a grand entrance.
“What do you want, Gordie?” she snapped. “I’m busy.”
