Improbable Nazi (Parallel Nazi Book 2)

by Ward Wagher

  “Except for this meeting, of course.”

  “Of course,” Rainer said dryly. “There is a reason you have remained in deep cover for so long. We do not want you to engage in any activities that would cause the FBI concern. The Reichschancellor wants nothing but good will from the Americans. No, but you give us a perfect opportunity to gain intelligence about the Englanders. We are weak in that area.”

  “I understand. But, also understand that MI5 is very good as well.”

  “Yes, they are. And if you are contacted by any member of the Abwehr, I want you to immediately report it to the American embassy in London.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “We think the German networks in England are completely compromised. They are giving us only what Churchill wants us to hear.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Channing demanded. “I would think this is something that you surely would not tell a field agent.”

  “Because if we hear from other sources that we know our sources in England are compromised, we will know where it came from. Plus, this is something you need to know.”

  “You play a dangerous game, Herr Rainer.”

  “You have no idea how dangerous,” the Reichsprotektor responded.

  “I shall, of course, be very careful, myself,” Channing said.

  Rainer looked at his watch. “You have a train to catch. Enjoy your stay in Bremen.”

  Channing stood up, as did Rainer. They shook hands and Channing quickly walked from the cafe. Rainer’s adjutant followed the Reichsprotektor out to his car and opened the door for him. After Rainer climbed into the Mercedes, the adjutant trotted around to the other side and climbed in as well.

  “Just drop me at my house,” Rainer said.

  “Of course, Herr Reichsprotektor,” the driver said as he pulled the massive car away from the curb.

  The adjutant looked over at Rainer. “What will Canaris do when he discovers you are running agents in England?”

  “When he finds out, Klemeth?” Rainer raised an eyebrow.

  “Certainly, you cannot keep this a secret from him. Sooner or later you will have to share information in the governing council meetings.”

  “Until that time, I have no intentions of saying anything, and I have Canaris’ people in the SS compartmentalized. Canaris is no threat to me.”

  “But, are you not concerned about having someone that weak running the Abwehr?”

  “I am concerned, Klemeth. You just watched me do something about it.”

  “Of course, Herr Reichsprotektor.”

  George Rogette made his way wearily out of the Berlin Railway Station and began looking for a cab. It had been a long day. He had left early that morning for Hamburg and was just now returning. He had concluded the trip was a fool’s errand. Mr. Smoke had instructed him to carry a mail pouch to an American shipping representative in Hamburg. It was a routine trip and Rogette was convinced Smoke had assigned it to him as a way to annoy Miss Simpson.

  While Rogette was nominally a clerk in the United States Consulate in Berlin, he was actually one of the OSS foot soldiers. Traipsing off to Hamburg merely made him cannon fodder in the war between Smoke and Simpson. And, he hated it. Both Smoke and Simpson were very good at what they did, in his opinion. He wished the both of them would not waste so much time and energy in their personal war.

  As he came out of the station, Rogette recognized the man who walked across the street towards him. Rogette quickly stepped to the left and moved away from the entrance, where he would not be so obvious. Relatively few Americans visited Germany, even now, and so the Consulate tried to maintain awareness of their travels. Dillard Channing was a businessman representing Boeing, and so was not necessarily subject to surveillance. In fact, the Consulate had instructions to provide him every assistance.

  Channing looked neither to the right or left as he entered the station. Rogette was just turning to walk over to the taxi stand when he glanced across the street and saw the Reichsprotektor walk out of a small café and get into his car. It was too much of a coincidence, he thought. Suddenly the trip to Hamburg and back was not such a waste of time, after all.

  § § §

  March 16, 1942; 9PM

  HegleStrasse

  Bayreuth, Germany

  Reinhard Heydrich eased the curtain back and studied the quiet residential street in Bayreuth, Germany. There were not as many old-guard Nazis in Bayreuth, but those here were even more fanatical in their desire to replace Schloss with someone more palatable. Heydrich turned to look at Konrad Mussen.

  “This seems like a decent spot to stay for a while, Konrad.”

  “Herr Winterkorn will keep his mouth shut, I think,” Mussen said. “Nevertheless, I believe we made a mistake by staying too long at one place in Munich.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Heydrich said. “We were safe there until that mongrel American escaped.”

  He chuckled ruefully. “Unfortunately, I cannot blame anyone else for that disaster. We should have blindfolded her and tied her to a chair. I did not expect her to move that decisively.”

  “In hind-sight, it is clear she had training,” Mussen said. “I am embarrassed at my failings.”

  “I suppose we all learned from it. That girl was as quick as a mongoose.”

  “That being said, have you considered moving around more often?” Mussen asked.

  Heydrich frowned. “I am actually happier if I stay put. Oh, you need to have several safe-houses spotted and ready to go. But, I think the risk of being picked up is greater when we travel. I grow weary of staring at the same walls for any length of time, but that is definitely more comforting than staring down the barrel of Rainer’s pistol.”

  “There is that,” Mussen agreed. “And we cannot afford to lose you.”

  “Come now, Konrad, no one is irreplaceable.”

  “Yes, Herr General, but your loss would set the movement back for years. As the one responsible for your security, you will pardon me if I give some excessive zeal to minimizing your risks.”

  Heydrich laughed. “And I appreciate it, Konrad. You have done very well. You even managed to extricate us from that trap in Munich.”

  Mussen nodded. He was relieved not to carry the conversation further. He was convinced that the SS had followed him when he picked up the American woman at the hotel. They had nearly lost Heydrich that night and it would have been Mussen’s fault. There weren’t enough senior leaders in the movement, and that made the risks worse.

  Heydrich peered between the curtains again, then shrugged. He turned and walked across the room to the table that served as his desk. He picked up the draft copy of the leaflet they planned to distribute. It featured a very good drawing of Heinrich Schloss with a Star of David superimposed. The text described how a cabal of Jews had completely hoodwinked the Nazi leadership and Germany was expending millions of marks in a useless quest in Palestine.

  Heydrich had directed the writers to be very careful not to directly attack Schloss, since he was so popular. What he intended was to sow doubt about the party leadership. His ultimate goal was to raise enough concern in the country so that Schloss would be forced to convene a party congress. That would give the true believers an opportunity to push a new agenda through, and hopefully even replace Schloss, Rainer and Schreiber. This combined with opportunities to remove Schloss's allies around the country should enable him to grow in power.

  Heydrich studied the pamphlet again, and then handed it to Mussen. “This looks good to me, Konrad. Let’s get it printed and distributed.”

  “Very well, Herr General.”

  After Mussen left to take care of the details for the pamphlet, Heydrich returned to the window. He loved this land and hated seeing it under the control of such weak people. Hitler and Himmler had proven what could be done with strength. He hoped he had the strength to follow their lead when the opportunities presented themselves.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  March 17, 1942; 4P
M

  Hotel Romano

  Riva del Garda, Italy

  “This is a lovely town,” Gisela said. “I am so glad we traveled here.”

  She stood next to Schloss on the hotel balcony, and looked down at Lake Garda. The lake was hedged about with mountains and a slight haze hung over the waters. Snow still covered the higher elevations and the cool wind was brisk.

  “I have not been here before,” Schloss said. “It is pleasant.”

  “Will we have time to play the tourist, my Darling?”

  “Technically we are still on our honeymoon, Schatzi. I would, perhaps, call this a working vacation. Il Duce is coming to meet us here as is Ben Gurion. However, I will make sure we have some time to ourselves.”

  Schloss and Gisela were staying in a suite on the top floor of the hotel, though Schlempke had rented the whole wing. Although his entourage was not large enough to use the space, the security people were chary about allowing anyone else into the wing. A bomb placed one or two floors below would be devastating. Schlempke had also placed guards along the sight lines to Schloss’s hotel suite to deter snipers. Schloss was philosophical about the dangers, but he cooperated fully with his security people. He was primarily concerned that Gisela not be, once again, in the line of fire.

  “There is nothing on the agenda for this evening,” she said.

  “I thought we would have a private dinner,” he said. “Following that, I must spend the evening reducing the mountain of paperwork that followed me from Berlin. I have neglected it for the past couple of days.”

  “Poor Hennie,” she chuckled in her low way. “It never stops, does it?”

  He shook his head. “Fortunately, we have Willem. He has a magic touch with all that paper. I would not survive otherwise.”

  “And tomorrow we meet Il Duce,” she said. “Is he as vile as Hitler and Himmler?”

  Schloss gazed over the water. “I am not sure. I met him at the Fuhrer’s funeral, but did not have time to get to know him well. He seemed pleasant and self-deprecating, then. From what I know, he is mainly an opportunist. Oh, he developed and promulgated the Fascist party philosophy. If he could be contented with building Italy, he probably will go down in history as a great man. He does not follow the racial theories of the Nazis. He thinks that’s crazy.”

  “So more of a moderate, then?” she asked.

  “Oh, no. Mussolini is a murderous thug. He simply lacks the power to support his bellicosity on a global scale.”

  And it is clear he is somewhat different than the Mussolini where I came from.

  “How do you plan to deal with him, my Darling?”

  “I do not know as yet, though both Ribbentrop and Goering have a low opinion of him. For now, Italy is a useful ally of Germany. I would like to keep things that way.”

  “Really? So, he doesn’t bother you?”

  He smiled again, fondly, at the beautiful red-haired woman he had married. “After having faced down Himmler, nothing much bothers me personally.”

  “But what about when we were in the park and being shot at?”

  “Now, that,” he said, “was different. I was terrified for you and for the children. It would have been ironic to achieve what we have and catch a bullet. But in some ways, I feel like something like that would never happen.”

  “You think Frau Marsden is protecting you from that?” she asked.

  “No. I think she is subtly guiding me. She seems to know things.”

  She knows where I came from, and I most certainly cannot tell Gisela about that.

  “You have certainly thought about this.”

  “Yes, I have,” he said. “I have had the occasional sleepless night when I wondered about things. During those times I have given a lot of thought to Frau Marsden.”

  “What is she, anyway?” Gisela asked.

  “I do not know. I suppose we may never know. I have wondered if she might even be some kind of apparition. People cannot know the things she can.”

  “I sometimes wonder if I am not sane,” she said.

  “Perhaps we are all insane.”

  “No. You are the sanest man I know.”

  “Thank you for that. You have made me a happy man.”

  § § §

  March 18, 1942; 2PM

  Hotel Romano

  Riva del Garda, Italy

  The stocky bald man strode through the lobby of the hotel with his hands on his hips. He acted as though he was the globe-striding conqueror, here to inspect his spoils. He nodded to the fawning locals as though receiving his just due. Heinrich Schloss studied Mussolini as he walked through the hallway towards the lobby. Is this fellow as arrogant as he presents himself, or is he just a foppish fool?

  “Il Duce,” Schloss said as he stretched out his hand.

  Mussolini took Schloss’s hand with both of his. “Herr Reichschancellor. We are honored by your visit to our land. And, we congratulate you on your recent marriage.”

  “Allow me to introduce my wife, Gisela.”

  The Italian bent over to kiss Gisela’s hand. “I am enchanted,” he said.

  “You speak very good German,” Schloss said. “I must admit that my Italian leaves something to be desired. Please forgive me.”

  “Oh, no, no, no,” Mussolini said. “It is all in the manner of how we have been gifted. And you have astonishing gifts in other areas. Your statecraft amazes me.”

  Schloss nodded. “Thank you, Sir. I feel like I am reeling from one disaster to the next.”

  “We should all have such disasters.”

  Schloss glanced at his wife, and the corner of her mouth twitched. I wonder how Herr Mussolini would react to landing in a parallel universe. On the other hand, he has consistently landed on his feet after events that would have destroyed most others.

  The Italian dictator looked around the room. “I believe the hotelier has reserved a room for us to meet.”

  The short, rotund hotel manager edged into the group. “Il Duce, the banquet room is reserved and ready for your meeting.”

  Mussolini nodded imperiously and turned towards the doorway where the manager pointed. “Well, Herr Reichschancellor, shall we see how this fine man has arranged for our meeting?”

  “Of course, Sir,” Schloss said.

  Although Schloss had a group of thirty people with him on the trip, only Willem Kirche and Alden Schlempke followed him into the banquet room. Two other guards had already slipped into the room and stood along opposite walls. Several more stood in the lobby next to the doors to the room. Others were spotted about the hotel property and along adjacent corridors. In Mussolini’s case, it looked to Schloss as though about fifteen people followed him into the room.

  Mussolini looked around the room, and then studied Schloss group. He leaned over and whispered to one of the men with him. That man nodded, then walked around the room, selecting members of the Italian group and then they left the room.

  “You seem to like things simple, Herr Schloss,” Mussolini said.

  “I have always tended to be something of a loner,” Schloss said. “I am not comfortable in large crowds, and so I tend to keep my number of retainers limited.”

  “And so, a man who prefers solitude is now the leader of the most powerful nation on Earth,” he commented.

  “We are hardly the most powerful,” Schloss said. “Although my goal is to create a Germany that no one will dare challenge.”

  “You are doing a better job of that than perhaps the Fuhrer did.”

  Now where is he going with this? “How so, Sir?”

  “The Fuhrer conquered most of Western Europe, and I think in time he would have taken Russia as well. But, I think his racial theories contained the seeds of Germany’s destruction. We are happy to see your moderation.”

  “I see. Shall we have a seat?” Schloss asked, changing the subject.

  Mussolini continued after they were seated. “We all agree on the importance of a strong government. Dissent must be ruthlessly suppressed. B
ut this… Aryan myth.” He shook his head. “It is nonsense on the face of it. And you have stopped this persecution of the Jews.”

  “What Hitler was doing to the Jews was grossly immoral,” Schloss said.

  “Just so,” Mussolini said. “Your strategy to move them to Palestine was ingenious.”

  “I was attempting to solve several problems. Time always has a way of validating one’s efforts… or not.”

  “And, how do you feel things in Palestine will turn out?”

  Schloss looked around the room as he thought. Careful, Hennie. You do not know where he is going with this.

  “The Jews are well on their way to establishing a government. We will not oppose them. I suppose our strategy is open-ended. We have transported them to the land and provided some meager resources. It is really up to them what they make of it.”

  “The Jews already in the land have done some amazing things with their agriculture,” Mussolini said. “I think they will be a force to be reckoned with.”

  “Does that bother you?” Schloss asked.

  “It bothers some of the people in the government,” he answered. “But, personally I think they will be a good buffer against the Moslems.”

  “If the Moslems don’t roll over them,” Schloss commented.

  “I strongly doubt that will happen. You will see. I have followed your lead and am making overtures to them. I think it would be very good to have them as friends of Italy. If you look around you will see that we are not a wealthy country like Germany. We could potentially be their closest trading partner. I think that would be very helpful.”

  And it is clear this Mussolini is nobody’s fool. He is thinking three or four steps ahead of me.

  “A very good point, Il Duce,” Schloss said. “Since you mentioned it, perhaps we should explore the trading relationship between Italy and the Reich.”

  “I would be delighted to do so. If nothing else, it would prove to those old women in Rome that I really do know what I am doing.”

  “I guess we all have our burdens to bear,” Schloss murmured.