W E B Griffin - Men at War 3 - The Soldier Spies

by The Soldier Spies(Lit)

  "My dear Johnny," Kramer said when he saw Muller in his office door, and then he came from behind his desk, hand extended. KI'm glad they found you." He did not, Muller noticed, say' Heil Hitler!"

  "Having me met was very kind of you, Herr Standartenfuhrer," Muller said.

  "You don't know, do you?" Kramer asked happily. "I rather thought you might not."

  "Sir?" "Geehr," Kramer said to the Hauptsturmfuhrer, "will you give him his Christmas present, please?" Geehr clicked his heels and made a little bow as he handed Muxer small, tissue-wrapped package.

  As Muxer unwrapped it, Kramer said, "I telephoned Berlin the moment it came over the wire, Johnny, and they told me you were on leave.

  I took a chance that you were coming home, and had Geehr meet the Berlin trains.

  You were on the second one." The box contained the shoulder boards and lapel insignia of an SSSTANDARTENFUHRER. When Muxer looked at Kramer, Kramer beamed.

  "May I presume, Herr Standartenfuhrer," Kramer said, "that I have the great privilege of being the first to congratulate you on your well-deserved promotion?"

  "I had no idea," Muxer said, truthfully.

  "With rank as of 1 December," Kramer said and snapped his fingers.

  Geehr handed him a sheet of Teletype paper, which Kramer then handed to Muller.

  There was no question about it. He had his own paragraph, "May I keep this?" Muller asked as Kramer first enthusiastic'lly pumped his hand.

  Then, with a snap of his fingers, Kramer ordered Geehr to produce a tray with a bottle of cognac and glasses.

  "Yes, of course," Kramer said, and then, "The timing is a little awkward." Ksir?"s

  "If it weren't Christmas Eve, Johnny, I would insist on doing more than offe ring a glass of schnapps," Kramer said. "But I daresay you are anxious to get home."

  "My train is at half past five," Muller said.

  "Nonsense. We have a car for you, of course, Herr Standartenfuhrer."

  "That's very kind," Muller said.

  KWITH a driver, of course," Kramer added.

  "I don't want to be responsible for someone having the duty on Christmas, Muller said.

  "That's very kind of you, then," Kramer said. "What have we the Standartenfuhrer can drive?"

  "We have that nice little Autounion roadster, Herr Standartenfuhrer," Geehr said.

  "Splendid!" Kramer said. "That alright with you, Johnny?

  "That would be fine," Muller said.

  "And if you'll take off your tunic, Johnny, I'll have Frau Zern put the proper insignia on it." As Muller handed his tunic to Kramer's secretary, Kramer said, "I realize this sounds odd, but I was about to say perhaps we can have a drink together at the funeral."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "The remains of the Baron Steighofen have been returned from the Eastern Front," Kramer said. "They will be interred at the Schloss on December 28.

  They're making quite a do of it. The Prince of Hesse, in the name of the Fuhrer, will make a posthumous award of the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross. Steighofen's not far from Marburg. I'm sure the Baroness would be pleased if you could find the time to attend." Translated, Muxer thought, that means he is telling me it would be politically smart for me to attend. Does that mean I have to?

  "The Steighofens are well connected, Johnny," Kramer went on, immediately confirming what Muxer had guessed. "With Baron Fulmar of FEG, for one thing."

  "The twenty-eighth, you said?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm sure I can make it," Muller said.

  "Then I look forward to seeing you there," Kramer said. "And once again, my dear Johnny, my most warm congratulations on your promotion.

  " I am your "dear Johnny," Muller thought, because it has occumd to you that the only way a Hessian peasant policeman like myself could get himself promoted is because I have powerful friends. I was notyour'dear Johnny'before I went to Morocco.

  "I wonder if I might use your phone before I go," Muller said.

  "Of course, Kramer said.

  "Could you have me put through to Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz in the Foreign Ministry?" Muller asked. "I think he might wish to attend the Baron's interment, and I'm sure he didn't know about it either." Kramer nodded at Geehr, who picked up the telephone and placed the call.

  Calling von Heurten-Mitnitz from Kramer's office, Muxer decided, served to buttress Kramer's notion that he had highly placed friends.

  But perhaps more important, the funeral would permit von Heurten-Mitnitz to talk to Fulmar's father under unsuspicious circumstances. If Muller placed the call anywhere else, there might have been questions.

  But there would be no questions if the call was made from the office of the commander of the Hessian Region of the SS-SD.

  FOUR] The Autounion roadster turned out to be a sporty ye How convertible.

  Muller drove it up the Autobahn as far as Giessen, and then along the tranquil Lahn River to the ancient university town of Marburg.

  Under other circumstances, he thought, it would have been a very pleasant way for him to go home, at the wheel of a fancy car, and with the corded silver epaulets of a Standartenfuhrer on his shoulders.

  He had been a lowly Wachtmann, an ordinary police patrolman, when he had left Kreis Marburg to go to Prussia. And he was thrilled then to be appointed a Kriminalinspektor, Grade Three. With a little luck and hard work, he'd thought at the time, he might make it to Kriminalinspektor, Grade One, or even Deputy Inspector.

  It had never occurred to him then that he would go into the SS-SD, or that he would rise to Obersturmbannfuhrer if he did. It was quite as difficult to believe that he was now a Standartenfuhrer as it was to accept that he was engaged in treasonous activities against the German State.

  Giessen had been bombed, probably as an alternate target when fog obscured Frankfurt am Main. But after he left Giessen, there was no sign of war damage, or, for that matter, of the war itself. Everything was in fact just about as he remembered it. There were fewer Christmas decorations than he expected, and there were Winterhilfe posters splattered all over, even on trees, appealing for warm clothing, both for bombed-out civilians and for the troops in Russia. But otherwise time seemed to have stopped.

  As he turned off the main road onto Frankfurterstrasse, he allowed himself to dwell on the notion that there were men from Marburg at Stalingrad right now, doomed to surrender and probably death.

  He drove past a barracks compound and pulled the ye How roadster onto the cobblestones before a three-story, turn-of-the-century building that housed both the headquarters of the Kreis Polizei for Marburg and the regional office of the SS-SD. He got out of the car and walked into the building. There was a small Christmas tree sitting on a table in the lobby.

  The Scharfuhrer on duty, visibly startled at the visit of so senior an officer on Christmas Eve, popped to attention. He didn't at first recognize Muller, but Muzer knew who he was. His name was Otto Zeiman.

  When Muller first joined the police as an Unterwachtmann, Zeiman had been his corporal. He, too, had joined the SS-SD and had risen to Scharfuhrer.

  "Heil Hitler!" Zeiman said. "How may I help the Standartenfuhrer?"

  "How are you, Otto?" Muxer asked, offe ring the older man his hand.

  "It's nice to see you again."

  "The Standartenfuhrer is kind to remember me," Zeiman said, beaming happily at him.

  "When no one's around, Otto, it's Johnny, like always." The older man colored with pleasure. He would never, Muller knew, call him by anything but his rank, but the gesture had cost nothing, and it was always valuable for a man like Zeiman to think of himself as a special friend.

  "Hauptsturmfuhrer Peis is the officer on duty," Zeiman said.

  "Shall I tell him you're here?" Peis, the SD officer-in-charge in Marburg and another face from a long time ago, was like Zeiman a professional, not a political, although Muller, who had checked his dossier in Berlin before leaving, had learned that Peis's devotion to the National Socialist cause had recent
ly become almost fervent. That was something to keep in mind.

  "The boss is working on Christmas Eve?" Muxer asked, and then, before Zeiman could reply, added, "Please, Otto." Wilhelm Peis, in what looked like a brand-new uniform, came into the foyer a moment later, gave the straight-armed salute, said "Heil Hitler! ," and asked how he could be of service to the Herr Standartenfuhrer.

  He was surprised to see Muller, period, and even more surprised to see that he was now a Standartenfuhrer. The approach he decided to take with him was, consequently, formal. As Standartenfuhrer, Muller might resent any intimacy. / "Heil Hitler!" Muller said. "I had hoped, if it would not interfere with your duty, that we might have a drink for Christmas."

  "I regret that I have nothing to offer the Standartenfuhrer," Peis said.

  "Then why don't we go to the Cafe Weitz?" Muller said.

  "If the Standartenfuhrer will be good enough to wait, I will get my coat," Peis said.

  When he was in the car, Peis said, "This is very nice.

  Standartenfuhrer Kramer has one very much like it."

  "This is Kramer's," Muller said. "He was good enough to give me the use of it.

  "May I ask if the Standartenfuhrer is here officially?" Peis asked.

  "Offici'sy, Peis, I'm on leave," Muller said.

  "I understand, Herr Standartenfuhrer."

  "It's Christmas Eve, Wilhelm, " Muller said. "And we have known each other a long time. Don't you think you could call me Johann'?

  "Yes, of course," Peis said, pleased.

  The proprietor of the Cafe Weitz, a pale-faced man in his sixties who wore a frayed-at-the-collar dinner jacket, greeted them enthusiastically, and Peis obviously relished being able to introduce Muller as his' friend." The proprietor said he was honored and asked if Muller had ever been to Marburg before.

  "I was born here," Muller said, and regretted it. The cafe owner looked as though he had committed a terrible faux pas by not recognizing Muller.

  "I've been away for years," Muller said. "But I came to see my mother at Christmasl' Two bottles, one of Steinhager and one of French cognac, were promptly delivered to their table.

  "While I am here, as I say, unofficially," Muxer began when the cafe owner finally left them, "there are a few things I would like to make discreet inquiry about."

  "I am at your service, Herr Standartenfuhrer," Peis said.

  "Johann," Muller said with a smile.

  "Johann," Peis parroted uncomfortably.

  "Tell me about Professor Friedrich Dyer," Muller said.

  Peis grunted, as if the inquiry did not surprise him.

  "What do you want to know?" he asked. "We have a rather extensive file on him. If you had asked at the station, I could have shown it to you." "Just tell me, Wilhelm," Muller said.

  "Well, he knows Albert Speer pretty well," Peis said.

  Muller was astonished to hear that, but he was a policeman, and his surprise showed neither on his face nor in his voice.

  "I know that," he said impatiently. "What else is there?"

  "He's a professor at the university, knows all about metal."

  "Personally.

  What do you know about him?"

  "Well, we caught him exporting money, for one thing," Peis said.

  "Is that what this is all about?" Muller ignored the question. "Tell me about that. Why wasn't he prosecuted?" Peis, Muxer saw, was uncomfortable. He would have to find out why.

  "You know how it is, Johann," Peis said nervously. "Some you keep on a string."

  "What can he do for you?" Peis was made even more uncomfortable by the question.

  "Family?" Muxer asked.

  "One child," Peis said. "His wife is dead."

  "And the one child is female, right? And you're fucking her?" There was alarm in Peis's eyes, proving that was indeed the case.

  "We're all human, Wilhelm," Muller said.

  "I... uh... the way it happened, Johann, was before the war.

  We caught him shipping the money to Switzerland, and making anti-state remarks."

  "She must be one hell of a woman," Muxer said with a smile. "This is almost 1943."

  "We had two students of official interest, two in particular, at the university," Peis said.

  "Who?" Muller asked.

  "There was an Arab, the son of some Arab big shot--"

  "What was his name?" Muxer interrupted. He had a very good idea, but he wanted to hear it from Peis.

  "El Ferruch," Peis said triumphantly, after he had dredged the name from the recesses of his memory.

  "Sidi Hassan el Ferruch," Muller said. "The son of the Pasha of Ksar es Souk. What about him?" Peis was uncomfortable but did not seem especially surprised that Muxer knew about el Ferruch.

  "We had a request to build a dossier on him," Peis said.

  "And did you?"

  "He was living with--"

  "Eric von Fulmar, Baron Kolbe, " Muser interrupted. "I asked you if you managed to build a dossier on el Ferruch?"

  "Yes, of course I did," Peis said. "I sent it to Frankfurt, and I suppose they sent it to Berlin after he left here."

  "What does this have to do with Professor Friedrich Dyer?" Muxer asked.

  "His money business came up at the same time," Peis said. "I called his daughter in for a little tallk, and used her to keep an eye on them."

  "And then, when they left, you kept her around for possible use in the future, right?" Muxer asked. "Wilhelm, you're a rogue!"

  "Well, you see how it is," Peis said, visibly relieved that Muller seemed to understand.

  "Wilhelm," Muller said, "I'm going to be here for about a week. A week with my mother. Now, I love my mother, but a man sometimes gets a little bored. He needs a little excitement, if you take my meaning."

  "You just say when and where, Johann," Peis said.

  "I'll say when," Muller said. "And you say where." [OIIIE] otor Pool, Illaval Elemout, sm8r Losdos, =sglasd 1600 Hours a4 December 1942 There were two white hats on duty in the small, corrugated-steel dispatcher's shack when the tall, dark-haired lieutenant (j. g. ) pushed open the door and stepped inside. He was wearing an overcoat and a scarf.

  His brimmed cap was perched cockily toward the back of his head.

  The white hats started to stand up.

  "Keep your seats," the j. g. said quickly, and added, "Merry Christmas."

  "Merry Christmas, sir," the white hats said, almost in unison.

  "My name is Kennedy," the j. g. said. "They were supposed to call?"

  "Yes, sir," the older--at maybe twenty-two--of the white hats said.

  "You need wheels?"

  "That's right," Kennedy said.

  "I hate to do this to you, especi'xy on Christmas Eve," the white hat said.

  "But look around, there's nothing else." There were three vehicles in the motor pool, a three-quarter-ton wrecker, a Buick sedan, and a jeep with a canvas roof but no side curtains.

  Kennedy understood the jeep was for him. Lieutenants junior grade are not given Buick staff cars, especially at the brass-hat-heavy Naval Element, SHAEE "Anytime you're ready, Lieutenant," the other white hat said.

  "Where we going?" "Atcham Air Corps Base," Kennedy said. "In Staffordshire. You know where it is?"

  "Only that it's a hell of a way from here," the white hat said.

  Kennedy had a sudden thought, and acted on it.

  "There's no reason that both of us have to freeze," he said. "I'll drive myself."

  "Oh, I don't know, Lieutenant," the older white hat said. "You're supposed to have a driver."

  "If anybody asks, tell them I gave you a hard time about it," Kennedy said.

  "It's gassed up, I suppose?"

  "Yes, sir, and there's an authorization for gas with the trip ticket."

  "Okay, then," Kennedy said. "That's it."

  "Lieutenant, would you mind writing down that you wanted to drive yourself?"

  "Got a piece of paper?" It was half past four when he turned the jeep onto the Great North
Road.

  He had lived in London for several years before the war and for the first couple of hours on the Great North Road, he knew where he was.