But then, After I have lunch with von Heurten-Mitnitz tomorrow, IX take a run over and get her some of the black silk French underwear.
And some French perfume, too.
TIIREE] The For-ign Illlinidry B-rlin, -rmany ao January 1943 The situation was surreal, Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz thought, dreamlike.
Yet very real.
When he walked into his office earlier, he had received word that Reichsminister for Foreign Affairs Joachim von Ribbentrop would be pleased if von Heurten-Mitnitz would take luncheon with him in his private dining room.
"I took the liberty, Herr Minister," Fraulein Ingebord Schermann said, "of informing the Herr Reichsminister's adjutant that so far as I knew there was nothing on your schedule that would keep you from accepting his invitation."
"That was precisely the right thing to say, Fraulein Schermann," von Heurten-Mitnitz said. "Thank you. The time?"
"Half past one, Herr Minister," she said.
He had had a little over four hours to consider how he would handle this meeting with von Ribbentrop.
He and von Ribbentrop had much in common, or so it appeared on the surface. They were both aristocrats and career officers of the diplomatic service. Von Ribbentrop had once been a commercial attache at the German embassy in Ottawa, as Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz had been an attache in New Orleans. And von Ribbentrop, like the Graf von Heurten-Mitnitz, had been an early convert to National Socialism and the Fuhrer.
Beneath the surface, however, there were substantial differences, Joachim von Ribbentrop's Almanac de Gotha pedigree was nowhere near as distinguished as von Ribbentrop liked people to think it was. Nor was he nearly as clever or as skilled a diplomat as he thought he was. Like Muller, he had been promoted over his ability because he was not only trustworthy but an old-time--and thus deserving--Party comrade. Even Helmut von Heurtenmitnitz's brother held von Ribbentrop with a measure of scorn.
Since his return to Berlin, Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz had avoided von Ribbentrop. As indeed von Ribbentrop had avoided von Heurten-Mitnitz until it became apparent that von Heurten-Mitnitz would not be blamed for the American invasion of Morocco.
When he was asked to lunch with von Ribbentrop, von Heurten-Mitnitz's first thought had to do with the report of French perfidy in Morocco.
That was not any closer to completion than it ever had been.
But that question could have been asked over the phone. I Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz had no idea what would emerge when he presented himself to von Ribbentrop's receptionist at twenty minutes after one.
The receptionist told him that the Reichsminister was tied up and offered him a chair, coffee, and a magazine.
At I, 25, the door burst open and General Ernst Kaltenbrunner, head of the SS, trailed by an aide, marched into the reception room, nodded curtly at von Ribbentrop's receptionist, shoved open the ceiling-high doors to von Ribbentrop's office, and went inside.
Kaltenbrunner, physically, was an imposing man. He was six feet eight inches tall, with weight to match, and his cheek bore a prominent scar from a saber slash.
His aide set down beside von Heurten-Mitnitz, glanced at him curiously, and then picked up a magazine.
Two minutes later, an officer in black SS uniform appeared in von Ribbentrop's door.
"The Herr Reichsminister will receive you now, Herr von Heurtenmitnitz, " he said.
Neither von Ribbentrop nor Kaltenbrunner was in von Ribbentrop's office. The SS officer led von Heurten-Mitnitz to von Ribbentrop's private dining room, a long, narrow room overlooking the interior garden. Its view was not unlike the one from von Heurten-Mitnitz's off fice, two floors above and a hundred feet south.
"My dear Helmut, "von Ribbentrop said, turning to von Heurten-Mitnitz.
"I'm so glad you were free." He walked to him and offered his hand.
He was an average-size man, with most of his brown hair, but there was a pallor to his skin that did not look healthy. His grip was firm, but that seemed an affectation.
"It was very good of you to ask me," von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
"You know the General, of course." In fact, von Heurten-Mitnitz had never been formally introduced to Kaltenbrunner.
"Good to see you again, General, "von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
Kaltenbrunner crushed von Heurten-Mitnitz's hand in his massive, scarred hand.
"I always come when invited," Kaltenbrunner said. "Ribbentrop has the best chef in Berlin." The long, polished mahogany table would have accommodated twenty people, but only three places had been set. Crisp, starched white place mats had been laid at one end. And there were long-stemmed crystal glasses, an impressive battery of sterling silverware with a swastika embossed on the handles, and elaborately folded napkins stood up on large, white, gold rimmed plates Five hundred yards from here, von Heurten-Mitnitz thought, as well as all over Germany, people are going hungry.
A tall, good-looking SS trooper, with starched white jacket replacing his uniform tunic, walked over and offered a tray holding three cut-crystal glasses.
"An aperitif is always in order, I think, "von Ribbentrop said.
"In this case, I asked for Slivovitz"--Hungarian pear brandy. "Under the circumstances, I thought it appropriate." Well, that explains it.
I am to be ordered to the embassy in Budapest Because I've hinted I want to be assigned there? Or because my brother has suggested it? Or simply because I am a minister who has lost his portfolio and there is an appropriate vacancy in Budapest?
But why the private luncheon? And what does Kaltenbrunner have to do with it?
They each took a glass.
"The Fuhrer," Kaltenbrunner intoned solemnly, and von Heurten-Mitnitz and von Ribbentrop parroted the toast.
"I've been telling the general," von Ribbentrop said, "about the report you've been preparing for the Fuhrer. Coming along with it, are you?" Ah, the report Is that just a loose end to be tied up before I go?
Or is it the reason I am going?
"I'm beginning to see the end," von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
"Then we'll move you at a propitious moment," von Ribbentrop said, and then interrupted himself. "Why don't we sit down?"
"That report sounds like one of Goebbels's anger-events," Kaltenbrunner said. An "anger-event" was a German coinage of Kaltenbrunner's own devising.
"General? "von Heurten-Mitnitz asked.
"The general theorizes," von Ribbentrop said, "and he may well be right, that Dr. Goebbels believes that the Fuhrer is at his best when he is angry.
Consequently, the good doctor tries to schedule at least three events a week that are sure to anger our Fuhrer."
"And that report of yours would be one of them," Kaltenbrunner said.
"As far as I'm concerned, the less said to the Fuhrer about either Africa or the French, the better." Two good-looking, blond young SS troopers came into the room. One pushed an exquisite wheeled serving cart. He placed it beside Kaltenbrunner, so that the second could ladle mushroom soup from a silver tureen into Kaltenbrunner's plate.
Then the cart was moved to von Heurten-Mitnitz, and he was served, and finally to von Ribbentrop.
Afterward, one of the waiters poured wine, a 37 Bernkastler.
"So far as my report is concerned, General," von Heurten-Mitnitz said, ""Mine' as the British said as they rode into the valley at Balaklava.
" Kaltenbrunner chuckled, and von Ribbentrop looked puzzled.
" Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die, "' Kaltenbrunner furnished.
"How droll, "von Ribbentrop said, moving on to cover his failure to catch the wit. "Helmut, we're going to have, I fear, some trouble with our Hungarian friends. It has been suggested that you be sent down there to see what you can do about it. The general and I would like to hear how you feel about that."
"That would depend, Herr Reichsminister," von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
"Depend?" Kaltenbrunner interrupted.
"On the nature of the trouble and whether or not I could do som
e good.
Or do you just want me out of the way so my report on the French won't reach the Fuhrer?" Kaltenbrunner snorted. Joachim von Ribbentrop looked at him to see whether he was amused or angry. When he saw him smiling, Ribbentrop laughed.
"The nature of the trouble is spelled Horthy," Kaltenbrunner said, referring to the regent of Hungary.
Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz raised his eyebrows.
"I would spell it Hungarian," von Ribbentrop said, arather than single the admiral out. The Hungarians are having second thoughts about their alliance with us."
"If the question is out of line, please forgive me," von Heurten-Mitnitz said. "But is there anything concrete?"
"Yes, there is," Kaltenbrunner said. He stopped and looked at von Ribbentrop. "Is there any reason I shouldn't discuss Voronezhl?
Joachim von Ribbentrop shook his head.
"For hundreds of years, von Heurten-Mitnitz, the Hungarians have been lln January 1943, a 200, 00Small Hungarian force had been routed by the Russians at Voronezh. There had been relatively few casualties, and a successful withdrawal had been made, but the Hungarians had lost essentially all of the tanks, artillery, and other weapons. splendid fighters. Under the Austro-Hungarian empire, of course.
One would presume that equipped with the very latest German equipment, they would be able to at least hold their own against the Russians." He then delivered, dispassionately, a rather detailed report of Hungarian reluctance to engage the Russians at Voronezh, down to the numbers of tanks and cannon lost to the enemy.
"And I am unable to believe," Kaltenbrunner concluded, "and Ribbentrop agrees with me, that their senior officers would have acted as they did, except on orders from Horthy. Or someone very close to Horthy.
With his blessing, so to speak." Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz said what was expected of him, "Then the officers should be shot, and the men forced back into the line."
"The Fuhrer believes that would be unwise," von Ribbentrop said.
"He believes that when the Hungarians come to understand that the alternative to an alliance with Germany is not neutrality and peace but enslavement by the Bolsheviks, they will fight in keeping with their warriors' tradition."
"Perhaps he's right," von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
"And perhaps he isn't," Kaltenbrunner said. Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz was surprised at Kaltenbrunner's bluntness. Only a few men would dare to suggest that Adolf Hitler erred. "That's where you would come in, von Heurten-Mitnitz "
"I don't quite understand," von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
"Reichsmarschall Goring, Dr. Goebbels, and some others are going to Budapest to reason with Admiral Horthy, "von Ribbentrop said. "And there is no doubt that they will return with a renewed pledge of allegiance from Horthy. And a new ambassador will be appointed.
Inasmuch as Goring and Goebbels will appoint him--and not from the ranks of professionals, Helmut, since we bumblers have obviously failed to do what we were supposed to do--I rather doubt that he will report that the Hungarians have resumed trying to save their skins the minute Goring and Goebbels turn their backs."
"Forgive me if I seem to be jumping ahead, but if I were there, I wouldn't be believed, either."
"Not by those two, of course not," von Ribbentrop said. "No more than you were believed when you raised the alarm about an American invasion of North Africa."
"But the Fuhrer would," Kaltenbrunner said. "Once we remind him that you are the man that no one listened to about North Africa."
"I see, "von Heurten-Mitnitz said. He understood their reasoning, and understood, too, that doing what they asked was a good way to get himself shot.
"What I'm going to do, Helmut," von Ribbentrop said, "is make you first secretary of the Embassy. You have the rank for the job, and the experience.
There will be no objection from any quarter. And then you do exactly what you did in Morocco. Except that you send your thoughts directly to me.
This time, they will not be ignored. I will share them with the general, and when the time is ripe, we will take them to the Fuhrer."
"It would make my position vis-a-vis the ambassador difficult," von Heurten-Mitnitz protested.
"Germany's position, von Heurten-Mitnitz, is difficult," Kaltenbrunner said.
"Your man in Morocco, General," von Heurten-Mitnitz said, "Standartenfuhrer Muller, was very valuable to me there. It would be helpful--" "He's yours," Kaltenbrunner said.
"Then I can only say I am flattered and humbled by the responsibility you are giving me." "People like ourselves," von Ribbentrop said slowly, as if to emphasize the inarguable truth of his words, "for centuries have been called upon to assume greater responsibility for Germany." And then von Ribbentrop stepped on von Heurten-Mitnitz's toe.
Startled, he looked at him.
"Sorry, my dear fellow," von Ribbentrop said. "I was reaching for the damned call button. I didn't want anyone in the room during that part of the conversation." And immediately the two handsome young SS troopers appeared, this time bearing medallions of veal in a lemon butter sauce, and potatoes Anna, and haricots verts.
When he returned to his office, he told Fraulein Schermann that he did not wish to be disturbed by anyone less important than the Reichsminister himself. Now he really needed time to think, to come out of the surreal dream.
It wasn't only his new assignment, or the elegant meal, or the realization that as an American agent he had just been assured of the trust of the Reichsminister for Foreign Affairs and the head of the SS, He had attended a reception at the Argentine Embassy the night before.
When he had retrieved his hat and coat from the checkroom and put his hand in the pocket, there was a postcard there that hadn't been there before he went into the embassy.
He had to wait until he reached home to have a good look at it.
It was a black-and-white drawing of a church in Budapest, specifically of St. Ann's Church on the Vizivaros, the flatland between the river and Castle Hill in Buda.
The address was smudged and illegible, but the message was clear, even under the purple censor's stamp, "Hope to see you and E and G. Here very soon. Will call. Fondly, Eric." It had taken a moment before he was sure what it meant. But it was really very clear. He was expected to somehow get Friedrich Dyer and his daughter Gisella from Marburg to St. Ann's Church in Budapest.
Someone would call and tell him when.
Fulmar himself? Or was "Eric" just identification?
And why did the Americans want Dyer? What did he know that justified all this effort and risk? And where would he--or Muller--find travel documents for these people?
Now, what had seemed almost impossible seemed to be impossibly easy.
Both he and Muller could simply load the Dyers into Muller's car.
No one was going to stop a car carrying an SS-SD Standartenfuhrer and the newly appointed First Secretary of the German Embassy.
He seriously considered that he was indeed dreaming, and bit his knuckle to see if he could wake himself up.
His interoffice telephone buzzed.
"Forgive me, Herr Minister," Fraulein Schermann said, "but Herr Standartenfuhrer Muller is here and insists on seeing you."
"Ask the Standartenfuhrer to please come in, Fraulein Schermann," von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
As Muller came through the door, the air raid sirens began to wail.
FOUR] IIIATS Departing Pssonger Tern inzl Croydon Field, London Zl January 1943 When Captain the Duchess Stanfield tried to follow Captain James M.
B.
Whittaker past the clerk who was checking orders and travel authority, an Air Corps military police sergeant stepped in front of her.
"Sorry, ma'am," he said, "passengers only beyond the checkpoint." Captain the Duchess Stanfield, her face stricken, stared at the back of Captain Whittaker as he turned a corner and disappeared from sight, then glanced over her shoulder at Dick Canidy, who stood with Ann Chambers and Agnes Draper just outside the building. They had said their good-byes
to Whittaker in the car so that Jim and the Duchess could have a couple of minutes alone inside the building.
Canidy walked quickly to her. When he saw Whittaker disappear from sight, his eyes teared and a painful tightness caught his throat.
"What's the trouble, Sergeant?" Canidy said, his voice unnaturally high pitched.
"Passengers only in the waiting room, sir," the MP said.
Canidy reached into the pocket of his tunic and came out with a small leather wallet. He showed it to the sergeant.
W E B Griffin - Men at War 3 - The Soldier Spies Page 35
