“Not at all,” she answered. “Now leave me alone. I need to sleep.”
Riley followed her lead and got as comfortable as possible among the cushions. Since he didn’t have the strength to undress, he lay on the fluffy wool rug and covered himself with a blanket. Lying on his back to relieve the pressure on his chest, he couldn’t help but look to his right at Carmen’s voluptuous outline. Knowing that she was completely naked under the blanket, within arm’s reach, turned him on as much as being near that sexy woman always did.
She must have read his mind, since she turned to him with a frown and said very seriously, “Don’t even think about it.”
Wilhelm and Heinrich
Offices of the Gestapo
Berlin
In a soulless room in the bowels of an old theater on Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse—which housed the headquarters of the Gestapo, known by Berliners as “The House of Horrors”—two men sat facing each other in gray suede chairs. Between them was a small silver tray with two cups of coffee that neither had touched.
The differences between them couldn’t have been starker. One wore an elegant wool suit that accented his dignified, serene demeanor, underscored by his silver hair, bushy eyebrows, and frank look. The other looked like a weasel. He had beady eyes and round glasses, a black mustache, a receding jaw, and nervous movements that made him seem ready to jump out of the chair at the earliest opportunity. Despite his unimposing physicality, he wore the black-and-silver uniform of the SS—Hitler had appointed him its head over a decade before. Heinrich Himmler was the second most powerful and feared man in the Third Reich, answering only to Hitler himself.
The animosity between the two seated men was an open secret. The first was the boss of the maligned Abwehr and the only member of the government who was not also a Nazi Party member. The other led the all-powerful Waffen-SS with an iron fist. The line between the two was clear. Anyone who wanted smooth sailing in Hitler’s Germany knew which side was better to be on. But no one understood why Wilhelm Canaris remained in charge of the Abwehr. It may have had something to do with Canaris’s ability to gather compromising information and use it against his enemies. Heinrich Himmler was one of them.
The tension between them swirled in the stale air of the room, which was lit only slightly by a north-facing window. Himmler had reluctantly agreed to the pointless meeting, threatened by some alleged photos in which he appeared a little too friendly with some children. This gave him yet another reason to hate the old sailor who renounced National Socialism and did nothing but plot against his superiors and demoralize his subordinates. He was even suspected of keeping Franco and Spain out of the war. He was a burden on the Reich, and sooner or later Himmler hoped to find a way to put him, his family, and his dogs in a concentration camp. I’d force him to eat the dogs before hanging him for treason, Himmler thought, smirking under his mustache. Yes.
“It’s a mistake,” Canaris said for the third time. “Operation Apokalypse is a grave mistake, which we will pay for dearly.”
“You don’t know anything about it,” Himmler said, “although you try to make me believe otherwise.”
“I know enough to fear the worst.”
Himmler smiled. “It was your idea, remember?”
Canaris’s eyes widened. “How dare you? The plan I proposed to the Führer was unloading agents for infiltration, using corsair ships. Not what you are trying to do, which would be a disaster.”
Himmler enjoyed making Canaris uneasy. He leaned back in his chair and brought his fingertips together. “Are you aware such a defeatist comment could be considered treason?”
Canaris leaned forward and glared at him. “Neither you nor your army of black shirts intimidate me in the least. If necessary, I’ll go to the Führer himself to notify him of the plan’s folly. Operation Apokalypse wouldn’t only be a disaster, but it would bring on the destruction of Germany, because there’s a crucial piece of information you’re missing. My informants in London assure me that the British government is aware of Apokalypse.” He paused, expecting a reaction. “So this operation is destined for failure.”
Canaris expected to see an expression of surprise or disappointment on Himmler’s face at the news that the British were privy to the operation. He ended up being the surprised one, however, when Himmler giggled from under his ridiculous mustache and said, “That fat drunk Churchill doesn’t know anything.”
“But my agents—”
“The British know exactly what we want them to know.”
Canaris thought for a moment. “Even so, this madness has to end before it’s too late.”
Himmler made an impatient face. “You know as well as I, that’s not possible. And even if it were,” he added, looking at his fingernails, “the Führer wouldn’t authorize it. Neither he, nor I, nor anyone actually leading Germany has any doubt that it would be the final blow to the Allies. Not only would we win the war immediately, but within a year we’d rule the entire world. An apocalypse in which only the Aryan race survives.”
Canaris looked concerned. There was a glimmer of insanity behind Himmler’s fanatic eyes. “Listen,” he said in a conciliatory tone, “even if the operation were successful, we’d be far from what you say. It would only unleash the wrath of our enemies and convert those who are not. The whole world would be against us . . . and not even Germany can defeat the whole world. Don’t you see?” he said, almost pleading. “The only apocalypse would be ours.”
Himmler shook his head slowly and smiled. “No, Wilhelm,” he said condescendingly. “The one who doesn’t understand is you. The operation is very important and goes far beyond what you think you know.” Pushing off the arms of the chair, he stood up and brushed his coattails, considering the meeting over. “So just follow the Führer’s orders without complaint if you value your or your loved ones’ lives at all. Have I been clear enough?”
Canaris looked at the man dressed in black from head to toe in front of him, sure he would be happy to follow through on his threat at the slightest opportunity. So he nodded, resigned. “Very clear,” he murmured.
“That’s good,” Himmler said with satisfaction. “Don’t interfere with our plans and you may get to witness the birth of a new world governed by Germany and National Socialism.”
Without any gesture of good-bye, Himmler turned and left, leaving Canaris sitting there, frowning. When he’d called that meeting with Himmler, he’d known there was no chance of getting him to alter his plans in the least. The goal was to confirm what he’d learned about Operation Apokalypse. Terrible as it was, he knew it was just the tip of the iceberg of something even more evil and dangerous.
Since he’d been put in charge of a small part of the preparations, his veteran spy instinct told him that it was only to keep him occupied. They wanted him to believe he was part of the mission when he really wasn’t at all. Himmler had confirmed that intuition with certainty, sure Canaris could do nothing to hinder his plans.
And he was right.
37
Riley felt like he’d only been sleeping a few minutes when voices outside roused him. He sat up quickly, which woke Carmen. She looked around groggily. “What’s going on?”
Riley brought his finger to his lips and looked for his gun. “There’s someone outside,” he whispered, listening.
There was a bang on the door that made it shake, followed immediately by a chorus of childish laughs and excited shouts in Arabic.
“Damn,” he said, sighing and letting himself fall back on the carpet. “Don’t these fucking kids have somewhere else to play?”
“That’s why you woke me up?” Carmen groaned. “Some kids playing soccer?”
“I was asleep and I thought . . .” Riley realized she was naked, her nipples pointing mercilessly.
It took her a second to realize it herself, and more out of anger than modesty she snatched the blanket up over her. Ironically, Riley got even more excited. He was powerless before that woman, with her big black eyes
and her disheveled hair falling over her shoulders.
He opened his mouth to tell her how beautiful she looked in the morning, but he didn’t get the first syllable out before there was another sound at the door. This time it was the sound of a lock that wouldn’t open.
Riley took his gun out from under a cushion and gestured for silence. He jumped up next to the door. A man in a djellaba carrying a basket appeared, and Riley put the gun to his temple. “Don’t move, don’t talk,” he whispered. “Put the basket down, close the door, and slowly put your hands up.”
The man did exactly as he was told without a word. It wasn’t until Riley pulled back the man’s hood that he realized the man he’d threatened was Julio, his host.
“I’m sorry,” Riley said, taken aback. “I didn’t think it could be you.”
“You’re an idiot, Alex,” Carmen said as she stood up, covering herself in her meager red silk robe. “Are you okay, Julio?”
“Yes, yes,” he said. “It’s my fault for startling you.”
“I’ve very sorry,” Riley said, tucking his pistol in the back of his pants. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was . . . But it’s already almost noon, and I had to buy some things. Have you eaten?”
“We just woke up,” Carmen said, glaring at Riley.
“Then I’ve come on time. Want some French toast? Or scrambled eggs?”
Riley shook his head. “I appreciate it, Julio, but we have to leave right away.”
“I’ll have some toast, thanks,” Carmen said. “I’m starving.”
Julio looked from one to the other and shrugged before heading to the kitchen. “I’ll make eggs and toast,” he said.
“We have to go,” Riley told Carmen. “Don’t you remember what happened earlier this morning? Tangier isn’t safe for us anymore.”
“Good reason to stay here,” she said, opening her arms.
“No. We have to get out of this city as soon as possible.”
“What’s the rush?”
“The people following us aren’t amateurs, Carmen. They’ll search the whole city, starting with your friends’ houses. It’s just a matter of time before they get Julio’s name and come here.”
“So we put him in danger by coming here?”
“If no one saw us come or sees us go, it’s not a big problem, but the longer we stay here the more likely someone will find us.”
Carmen put her hand on her forehead and shook her head. “Damn it, Alex. What have you gotten me into?”
Julio came back, poking his head into the hallway. “Tea or coffee?”
“Sorry, Julio,” Carmen said, “but we can’t stay. We’re leaving now.”
“With an empty stomach?”
“Thank you so much for having us,” she said, going over to him and taking his hand, “but the people following us will probably come look here.”
Julio seemed to think this over but showed no sign of concern. “Even though you haven’t told me what happened or who you’re running from.”
“And it’d be best for you if it stayed like that,” Riley said. “If you want to avoid problems with those people, don’t tell anyone that we’ve been here.”
“They’re the men that”—he frowned, now looking a little uneasy—“did that to your face?”
Riley touched his face as if he’d forgotten what he looked like and nodded.
“Okay,” Julio said. “And where do you plan on going, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Better for you not to know.”
“Tétouan, in the Spanish protectorate, is less than an hour away,” Julio said. “I have friends that could help you there.”
“We’ll keep that in mind, thanks, but it’s better not—”
“Do you have a letter of passage?” Julio asked Carmen.
She opened her arms. “I don’t even have clothes!”
“Well, you may need one. In the military government office you might be able to get one with a little bribe—today even. Do you need money? I could lend you a little if—”
“No thanks,” Riley said. “We don’t need money, and it’s probably not a good idea to try to get a letter. We have to leave secretly.”
“This ass,” Carmen said, “came in my house before dawn and decided to knock out the military governor.”
Julio looked at Riley with a touch of amusement. “You did?”
Riley shrugged. “I was having a bad day.”
“You know what I say? That guy is a thug, and I hope you gave it to him good. I’m starting to like you, Captain Riley.”
“Don’t mention it. My pleasure.”
“Well, I don’t think it’s funny at all,” Carmen said, poking Riley’s chest. “You really screwed me over.”
“Oh yeah? Seems to me that’s what your friend the governor was doing,” Riley said, regretting it immediately.
Luckily, Julio jumped in before Carmen could fire back. “Probably best to focus on the present,” he said. “How are you going to leave the city unseen? Carmen is the most famous woman in Tangier, and your face will attract a lot of attention too.”
Riley sighed. “I know, but there’s no other way. We’ll try to stick to quiet streets with our hoods up. Speaking of which, do you have another old djellaba you could lend me? It’d help me keep from being noticed.”
Julio shook his head. “It won’t help. At night it might work, but in broad daylight wearing djellabas isn’t going to make much difference.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t wait for nighttime again,” Riley said.
Julio gave a strange smile and made a sign for them to wait. “Maybe you won’t have to.” He rushed out of the room.
Riley crossed his arms and looked at his watch. “We’re losing precious time.”
“You can go whenever you want,” Carmen said.
“If I wanted to go, I would’ve done it last night on my ship.”
Carmen studied his face. “Fine. Thanks for . . . coming to save me.”
“Better,” Riley said, somewhat surprised. “You’re welcome.”
“From men I don’t know,” she added, “who want to kill me for something you did that has nothing to do with me.”
The sound of things crashing to the ground came from the other room.
“Are you okay, Julio?” Carmen called.
“Yes, yes. It’s very disorganized, but I’ll be right there.”
Riley nodded in Julio’s direction. “He seems like a peculiar guy. What do you know about him?”
Carmen looked annoyed. “He’s an old friend. A little eccentric, but very trustworthy and a great artist.” She pointed at a six-foot-tall oil painting composed of squares, rectangles, and triangles of different shapes and sizes. “That’s me,” she said proudly.
Riley looked at it. “Are you sure? All I see are shapes and colors.”
“It’s called Cubism, ass. Julio met Picasso in person, and some have compared the two of them.”
“Well, what do you want me to say?” Riley said, tilting his head sideways. “What’s it called?”
“Carmen Naked.”
Riley looked at her to see if she was joking, then back at the painting. “You and him?” he said. “You . . .”
“Why? You want to knock him out too?”
“I don’t—” He stopped. “Oh, forget it!”
“Just because he painted me naked doesn’t mean I slept with him.”
“Okay. I shouldn’t have asked, it’s none of my business.”
“That’s right,” she said. “But in this case I can promise you I’m not his type.”
Riley looked at her in disbelief. “I don’t buy it. If he’s human and has a pulse, you’re his type.”
“Julio’s preferences go in the other direction.”
“You mean . . . ?”
“And he’s a communist,” she added. “That’s why he came to Tangier. To be close to his native Málaga, but out of reach of the fascist, homophobic dictatorship.”
/> “So he must have been worried when the Spanish troops took over last year.”
“I try to be discreet,” Julio answered behind him.
They turned to find him in the hallway with two large bolts of fabric. “I think I found the solution to your problems,” he added, extending his hands.
“What a great idea!” Carmen said, taking one of the bolts and unrolling it. “Where’d you get them from?”
“I bought them for the models in a painting called Women of Tangier, which I sold to the Russian ambassador a couple of years ago. Good thing I kept them.”
“Thanks, Julio,” she said, kissing his cheek. “It’s just what we need.”
Riley stared at the fabric Carmen was draping over her shoulders. “Need? For what?”
“So they don’t recognize us,” she said, covering her face with the cloth. “Why else?”
“You mean?” Riley blurted out, straightening up when he realized what she meant. “You’re not expecting me . . . ?”
Carmen smiled widely at the captain’s discomfort. “Don’t be stupid,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll look very pretty.”
38
Two ghostly figures walked side by side under the lukewarm December afternoon sun, the soles of their slippers gliding across the cobbled streets of Tangier’s medina.
On first glance they were unremarkable. The immaculate white haik—which covered each of them from head to toe and left only a thin opening for the eyes—was the typical garment worn by women in the region, so they blended right in in the confused crowd of pedestrians. Still, anyone looking closely would have noticed certain unusual details. One was tall and graceful, and the other, though much taller, was bent over a cane like an old woman. They each carried a small sack of raffia on their backs and walked with short, hurried steps like they were late to a meeting.
“Not a word of this to anyone. Ever,” Riley said.
“Oh, come on. You can’t deny it’s the perfect disguise. People aren’t even looking at us, and no one noticed you’re not an old woman. What else do you want?”
Captain Riley (The Captain Riley Adventures Book 1) Page 24
