by Ward Wagher
“A very lucky woman,” Schloss said.
“A very gutsy woman. Unfortunately, our friends had already left the safe house when we arrived. We did recover some documents and our people are conducting a thorough search of the property as I speak.”
“Did she confirm it was Heydrich?”
“She did. I’m having our people put her on the train to Berlin tomorrow. She did us a big favor, you know.”
“I realize that,” Schloss said. “If she had managed to get herself killed, though, there is no telling how the Americans would have reacted.”
“I had that thought as well.”
“Very well, Karl. I appreciate you being so quick off the mark. Let me know of any further developments. We simply must run Heydrich to ground.”
“I understand Herr Reichschancellor.”
“Have a good evening, Karl.”
“The work will still be here in the morning, Herr Reichschancellor.”
“Lord, I hope not,” Schloss said with a wry smile.
“You should get some rest.”
“So says Frau Marsden and Gisela.”
“You should listen to them,” Rainer said.
“Ah, yes, I cannot escape my minders; even in Munich. I plan to only work for another hour or so.”
“Very well, Sir.”
“Good night, Karl.”
“And you, Sir.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
March 15, 1942; 2PM
Tempelhof Airport
Berlin, Germany
“The wedding was everything I dreamed of,” Gisela said, “but, I’m glad it’s over with.”
They had just finished greeting a crowd of well-wishers and had boarded the Condor for the flight to Munich. The interior of the airplane had been newly refurbished. Goering had directed the Luftwaffe to expedite the changes so that Schloss and his new bride could take the plane on their honeymoon. Schloss had insisted that the renovations be done on a strict budget, so the result was subdued, but still elegant.
“Oh, I like this,” Gisela said as she saw the interior.
“I am happy you like it,” Schloss said. “I suffered a major argument with Goering over the budget for this project. He insisted on something more… suitable for the Reichschancellor.”
She chuckled deep in her throat. “I truly prefer your taste in furnishings to Hermann’s. You like things understated.”
“I do. I believe you can impress people more when they sense that you have no need to prove anything.”
They moved down the center aisle to the seats clearly designed for the Reichschancellor and his bride. As they settled in the cabin steward brought out a tray with a bottle of Sekt and two fluted glasses.
“Compliments of the Reichsmarshall and the Luftwaffe, Herr Reichschancellor, Frau Schloss.”
“Oh, thank you very much,” Gisela said. “You are treating us very well.”
“Might I offer you a toast?” the cabin steward asked. “I apologize if I seem a bit forward.”
“Not at all,” Schloss said. “We would be honored.”
The steward had come prepared and pulled another glass out of his side pocket. He filled the three flutes and gave one each to Schloss and Gisela.
“To the Reichschancellor and his bride,” the steward said. “May your marriage and your service to the Reich be long and prosperous.”
“Prost!” Schloss nodded as they clinked glasses. “Thank you, once again, for your courtesy. We are honored.”
The steward gave a short bow and clicked his heels together. “Herr Reichschancellor, the honor is mine!”
The plane shuddered as the pilot started the engines. Schloss decided they had warmed up the engines prior to his arrival, since they fired right up. They sat with the engines idling for a few minutes as the pilots worked their way through the checklist. The Fuhrer’s last flight with Hans Bauer was still on everyone’s mind, and no one desired another accident. They then throttled up the engines and began taxiing smoothly towards the end of the runway. As soon as they turned on to the runway, the engines gave their basso roar and the Condor was back in its element. As they climbed out of Berlin, Schloss gazed out the window at the city below. He felt Gisela’s hand seek his.
“You are pensive, My Darling,” she said.
“I see the city below us, and think of all the people that depend on us making the right decisions for them. I saw where Hitler was going, and I think I stopped some things that would have destroyed Germany. But, there are so many ways I could fail.”
She squeezed his hand again. “I cannot think of anyone better equipped to make those decisions, Hennie. And you seem to instinctively know what to do.”
He patted her hand with his other. “Thank you, Schatzi. But I definitely know my limitations.”
“It still amazes me the events of the past year,” she said.
“It still amazes me. I felt like I danced from one near disaster to the next.”
“Was it frightening, Darling?”
“Actually, no,” he said. “Part of it was that I never really had time to be frightened. But, also, I felt like I was meant to be here. That first day when Hitler died, I actually had fun. And this was in spite of the terror around me. And having you with me… well….”
“What were you just thinking, Hennie?”
He frowned. Okay, how to I explain this to her without her thinking I’m completely mad? “It’s just that Hannalore will always be a part of everyone’s memories. But, truthfully, I have never loved anyone as I love you.”
He looked over to see tears streaming down her face.
“And you have made me so happy, Schatzi,” she said. “Each day with you seems better than the one before. I think today is the happiest day of my life.”
“And I am glad that we are married. Frau Marsden notwithstanding, I know it is emotional, but I feel fulfilled.”
She used her kerchief to daub her tears, then grasped his hand again. They watched out the window at the expanse of Germany below them, as the aircraft climbed. They had drawn a sunny day for the wedding and the countryside viewed from the Condor was beautiful.
“How long do you think you will stay in your position?” she asked.
“As Chancellor?” he asked.
She nodded.
“The new government has been in place for only four months, and we are still finding our way. We have a lot of governing mechanisms to rebuild. It is possible that might be a twenty-year process. I very much hope that will not be the case. I can think of nothing I would like better than to retire with you to a country estate.”
“Is that possible?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? Frau Marsden assured me that we would be successful in what we do… for whatever that is worth.”
“And who is Frau Marsden? Why would she know that?”
He smiled at her. “I have given that question some considerable thought over the past months. She is an enigma. She seems to know things. That’s all I can say at this point. But, I intend to find out more.”
She smiled. “I find it difficult to believe you will persuade her to tell you anything she does not want to.”
“I can be very persuasive.”
§ § §
March 15, 1942; 7PM
Bavarian Alps, south of Munich
They returned to the cabin where they had spent a weekend the previous summer. This time a late snow made logistics difficult. An Army half-track artillery tractor carried them up the unpaved road from the highway. An entire phalanx of guards and soldiers were now a part of the entourage. Rainer and Schloss were very much aware that there was a substantial group of Nazis in the Munich area who were intensely opposed to Schloss. And Rainer was taking no chances, considering what happened to the woman from the American consulate earlier in the week.
Schloss, of course, did not remember the honeymoon with Hannalore. The Alter-Schloss was in his place at that time. However, he was very much aware of his previous marriage to Tr
udy in the other reality, and the perfunctory honeymoon trip.
“A pfennig for your thoughts, Hennie,” Gisela said.
He looked up suddenly from gazing at the fire. “Huh? Oh. I am sorry, Precious. I was woolgathering.”
“I hope you will not find me overly nosy, but I enjoy knowing your thoughts. I want to learn everything I can about you. You have made me so happy.”
“I think we must have much the same thoughts. I have never been so happy as when I am with you.”
“I thought, perhaps, you were remembering your wedding trip with Hannalore. Forgive me if I am too forward.”
He laughed. “Actually, I was not. My time with Hannalore seems like a different life. It is like I don’t even remember it. And I am not normally so forthcoming. But I want to share everything with you, Gisela. And I want you to share everything with me.”
Except, for another world where Russian boots trod in Berlin, and I grew up in an orphanage without a family. There is no way I can share any of that with her.
“This is a nice place,” she said. “Another one of Karl’s discoveries?”
“Actually, yes,” Schloss replied. “He has a knack for finding these jewels. I am able to relax here.”
“Perhaps we could bring the children here later in the summer.”
“That, my Dear, is a good idea. I will make a note to have Willem arrange some time for us.”
§ § §
March 16, 1942; 10AM
American Consulate
Berlin, Germany
“And how was your trip to the south?” H. Gordon Smoke asked as he stuck his head in the door of Misty Simpson’s office.
She had arrived fifteen minutes earlier and was working on her first coffee of the day. Of all the things she had to face on this day, Gordon Smoke was the least desired.
“Routine, Gordie. I took the train to Munich. I stayed in a very nice hotel. I had a couple of meetings. I rode the train back here. And by the way, the Europeans really know how to travel in style.”
“And nothing further happened?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
She was struck once again how much she disliked his pudgy face. “If there was anything else that you needed to know, Gordie, I would have told you. Now, was there anything I can help you with this morning. If not, I have things to attend to.”
He sniffed, then turned and left. His sources in Munich reported that Simpson had been kidnapped and nearly murdered. But, of course, he could not specifically ask her about that without revealing he had his own sources. The OSS people were interlopers anyway. The State Department Intelligence unit was fully up to the task. He wondered who had twisted Cordell Hull’s arm to allow OSS people in the embassy.
An hour later Misty’s phone rang.
“Will you accept a call from the Reichsprotektor?” the duty sergeant asked.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“I trust you had an uneventful trip back here to Berlin, Fraulein Simpson,” Karl Rainer said.
She laughed. “Oh, yes. With one of your people at each end of the rail car, what could possibly go wrong?”
“Don’t even ask,” he said dryly. “I wanted to follow up our conversation from the other night. Would you be available to take lunch at my office today?”
She quickly picked up her desk calendar, more to give herself time to think. She already knew there was nothing on her calendar for the entire day.
“As it happens, I can be free this noon,” she said.
“Very good,” he said. “I will have a car at the consulate at 11:30. I have two items on the agenda, just so that you will not be surprised. I would like to probe further into your experiences of the other night in Munich. And also, I would like to get some background on how the Americans view the Reich.”
“I shall be prepared,” she said. “Until then, Herr Reichsprotektor.”
One half hour later, she stepped out of the front door of the consulate and nodded to the Marine corporal. An Opel Capitan with blood-red Nazi pennants on the fenders waited at the curb. An SS Feldwebel, or Corporal held the door open for her, then trotted around to climb behind the wheel.
“If Fraulein is ready, we can travel to the Reichsprotektor’s office.”
“I am ready. Thank you, Corporal.”
Either the German was naturally careful, or he had been impressed with the importance of his passenger. She had never ridden with anyone who managed the clutch and the stick so smoothly. He eased the car out into the traffic and accelerated smoothly.
“Excuse me Corporal, but you are an excellent driver,” she said.
“Thank you, Fraulein,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road. “My poppa taught me to drive. He instructed to me to act as though I had a cup of coffee balanced on the seat beside me, and I could not spill a drop as I drove.”
“Your poppa taught you well, then.”
She watched the blush crawl across his face. Here was a conscientious German, or more so than normal. Most Germans she met were careful to a fault. And this one was obviously proud to be entrusted with this task.
“How old are you, Corporal?”
“I am twenty-one.”
“You have done well, then,” she said.
“Thank you, again, Fraulein. You honor me.”
“We have a saying in my country that honor is due to those who deserve it.”
And they continued their smooth ride across the streets of the German capital. Fifteen minutes later the driver eased to a stop in front of another one of the over-decorated German office blocks. An SS major trotted down the steps and opened the door.
“Fraulein Simpson, thank you for coming. I am Major Klein. I will take you to the Reichsprotektor’s office.”
She leaned forward and patted the driver on the shoulder. “Thank you, again, Corporal.”
“It was my pleasure, Fraulein.”
She stepped out of the car and slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder as she looked around. The major closed the car door and she saw it move off. She followed the major up the steps to where two guards opened the doors for them. They walked through a marbled lobby to the wrought iron elevator cage. The elevator was well maintained, she thought as it moved silently to the fifth floor. Then again, everything in Germany was well maintained.
Part of her job was to study the German culture and manufacturing prowess. As she studied the inside of the elevator she decided she had figured out the big difference between the Germans and the Americans. The Americans were satisfied to slap equipment and appliances together with a minimum of fuss, as long as the thing worked as it was supposed to. The German equipment generally worked very well, but it also resembled a work of art. The Germans took craftsmanship seriously.
And she wondered what that told her about the German people as a whole. And she was led into an ornate dining room belonging to a member of the German government.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
March 16, 1942; 7PM
Berlin Railway Station
Dillard Channing shifted nervously in his chair as he studied the man across from him. They were seated in a small cafe across from the railway station. The remains of a small meal lay on the table between them. He was not so nervous about the company he kept as the situation he found himself in.
“Do you understand your instructions?” Karl Rainer asked.
Channing nodded. “I understand very well.”
“Do you have any further questions?”
Channing frowned. “I suppose I should like to discuss the risk. This takes me out of my area of expertise, you know.”
Rainer nodded. “Yes, Herr Channing, I suppose it does. However, I am convinced the risk is relatively low. We are moving your area of operations from Washington, D.C. to London. However, your role is not changing. You are the representative of the Boeing Aircraft Company. We are arranging for you to take a position in the English office for your company.”
“The difference is that in America I am spying
on a neutral country that is not unfriendly to the Reich. The United Kingdom is at war with the Reich. If they catch me, they will shoot me.”
“Are you refusing?” Rainer asked. There was a hint of ice in his voice.
“No, no. You misunderstand,” Channing said. “My cover is thread-bare at the moment. It would not be hard for anyone even slightly competent to back-track my European trip.”
“You met with the officials at the Focke-Wulf company. This was a legitimate meeting.”
“True, but I would think it would cause concern with MI6.”
“Of course, it will,” Rainer said. “And you should not try very hard to hide it. You are a legitimate businessman. You are here to negotiate a manufacturing license between Focke-Wulf and Boeing. Your job in England, as I understand it, is to develop a business relationship between Boeing and the English aircraft industry.”
“And the English will be pouring over my communications with the corporate office.”
“Of course, they will. And what will they find, Herr Channing?”
“Nothing, of course,” Channing said. “I will be reporting to my control in New York during my trips back to the United States.”
“So, you will not be doing anything illegal in England,” Rainer said. “You will be in neutral territory when you communicate with us. It is unlike you to be this reticent.”
“I was visited by the American FBI,” Channing said. “They questioned me at length about my trip to Germany.”
“We know about that,” Rainer said. “In fact, we encouraged the investigation.”
“What?” Channing started to stand up.
Rainer waved him back into his chair. “Relax, Herr Channing. The American FBI is probably the world’s premier law enforcement organization. Herr Hoover is very, very good at what he does. When you return to America, they will probably want to meet with you again. You may freely tell them about anything you saw here in Germany.”
