Improbable Nazi (Parallel Nazi Book 2)

by Ward Wagher

  “Indeed,” Donovan said. He glanced at the menu. “What is good here?”

  “I would stay away from the beef,” Hull said. “When I get a steak on my plate, I’ll swear I can see the marks where the jockey whipped it.”

  Donovan snorted in amusement. And he did not expect that from Hull. He looked up at the waiter who held his order pad expectantly.

  “Chicken Parmesan,” he said.

  “I’ll have the Rock Bass,” Hull said.

  They spent a few minutes in conversation, sharing opinions about some of the key players in Washington. The house minority leader: an idiot. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs: competent, if a little naïve. J. Edgar Hoover, the Director of the FBI: terrifying. The Japanese: a bunch of maniacs.

  The lunches were served and Donovan took a bite of his chicken. It was not great.

  “I suppose we should get down to business,” Hull said. “I really do not want to waste this time.”

  “Very well,” Donovan said “What can I help you with?”

  Did this old goat really mean to suggest that I was wasting his time today? Donovan wondered.

  “I am concerned that we have a problem in the consulate in Berlin,” Hull said.

  “Ah, the estimable H. Gordon Smoke. I am surprised you haven’t arranged an accident for him.”

  Hull laughed politely, but wondered if Donovan was truly joking. With the OSS one never knew.

  “He sent me a long missive yesterday about the First Secretary of the consulate. He has concerns that she is getting ready to compromise herself.”

  “She has succeeded in getting close to Rainer,” Donovan said. “I was delighted at her initiative.”

  “True, and I have no intention of interfering in your business, Colonel. Normally I do not pay any more attention than absolutely necessary to Smoke. The Germans like him, but he is playing way out of his depth in the diplomatic game and does not realize it. In this case, I would ask the question, and you will pardon my unintentional pun, but do we have a case that where there is smoke there is fire?”

  Donovan took a sip of water from the glass in front of him as a way to compose his thoughts. “I think you can assume we keep Miss Simpson compartmentalized. She is a first-rate intelligence officer, but there is very little to which she is privy.”

  “Other than the routine items that float around any embassy,” Hull said.

  Donovan raised an eyebrow.

  “Come on,” Hull said. “You know what most embassy operations are like. The only people who treat security seriously are the Marine guards and the communications sections. And sometimes I question the integrity of the communications people.”

  “I’ll grant the point,” Donovan replied. “But, back to your question. Is the Simpson woman compromised?” He paused. “I say this carefully, Mister Secretary, but, I certainly hope so.”

  “What?”

  “Follow my reasoning here. I have encouraged her to get close to Rainer. I am not altogether naïve. Suppose they fall in love. They get married. Who is compromised?”

  Hull grunted. “I see your point.”

  “I came into this job as a rank amateur,” Donovan said. “As a lawyer, I have relied upon my understanding of human nature, but I do have some modest ability to read people. It seems to me that if we have someone close to the center of power in Germany, if nothing else it provides a conduit for communications. And pardon me for saying this, but with our relationships with our British cousins somewhat strained, we may find ourselves building closer ties to Germany.”

  “How can you say that, William?” Hull asked. “Those people are butchers.”

  “Of course, they are. And, who do you think blew up our freighter in La Spezia?”

  Hull looked down at the table and thought carefully. “Are you suggesting the British had something to do with that?”

  “I have no direct evidence to suggest their involvement. I do know the Germans are turning over every rock they can find. Absent anything to the contrary, I think we have to seriously suspect the SIS.”

  “I cannot believe the British would be capable of something like that. To take action against us. What do you have against them anyway?”

  “The British?” Donovan asked. “I like the British. They have the only sane legal system on the other side of the Atlantic. I like their culture. But let’s remember that we are Americans. My job is to defend the country against any threats. We have made a decision to work with the Germans to stop a war in Europe. That may or may not have been wise on our part. But I am obligated to support the president in this.”

  “You have accomplished a lot since you were formed last fall.”

  Donovan laughed. “We have barely scratched the surface. We have resources in Europe and South America. We have virtually nothing in the Pacific, and that is where our greatest threat lies. I have to depend upon whatever tidbits our German friends decide to drop in our lap. I’m actually surprised the Japs are still speaking to them.”

  “I cannot believe the Germans hung them out to dry like that,” Hull said.

  “Herr Schloss is a different kind of animal,” Donovan said. “It appears he was calling the shots since Hitler’s death, although we completely missed that. I think he has a good appreciation for the… oh, let’s call it a correlation of powers on a strategic level. As you know, we were very close to going to war with them. Hitler was convinced he could beat everybody. We picked up some intelligence that indicated he was planning to invade Russia.”

  “I saw that, too,” Hull said. “The man was insane.”

  “Yes, he was. Schloss apparently took the position that since they hadn’t been able to beat the British so far, that they were crazy to take on anybody else.”

  “Schloss seems not to be stupid.”

  “It seems like Schloss has the ability to read minds, or predict the future or something,” Donovan said. “It’s uncanny. He warned us about the Japanese attack, and it seemed to be more than just reading the tea leaves.”

  “Somebody let slip to Gordon Smoke that they warned the Japanese, too.”

  “Is that so?” Donovan asked. “To be perfectly honest, we did not hear that.”

  Hull looked up as the waiter stopped at the table to check on them. They waited until he refilled the water glasses and departed. Hull pulled a small notebook out of his coat pocket and scribbled briefly in it.

  “I must check on that. That little nugget should have been passed along to your people. As we heard it, Ribbentrop sent them a note suggesting they would be punching above their weight if they took us on. They basically told the Germans to mind their own business.”

  “And the Japs have done pretty well, so far,” Donovan commented.

  Hull tapped his pen on the table for a few moments.

  “Understand, William, that I do not have a lot of truck with spies. But, I do agree about the importance of what you are doing. I am going to task someone in my office with being the liaison with the OSS. If State is leaving information on the table, it could be dangerous.”

  “Mr. Secretary, thank you,” Donovan said. “That would be most helpful. Once you have someone tasked, please have them coordinate with our Deputy Director, Operations. He will know where to distribute the summaries.”

  Hull paused to take a bite of his lunch. “The fish is good today. How’s the chicken?”

  Donovan looked up at Hull with a smile. “I apparently should have selected the fish.”

  “We could send it back to the kitchen, if you like.”

  Donovan shrugged. “Not necessary, but thank you. Let’s get back to our original topic of conversation.”

  “I can tell Smoke to stay out of Simpson’s playing field, if you like.”

  “Actually,” Donovan replied, “I would like you to encourage him, just a little bit.”

  Now Hull raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? To what purpose?”

  “At one level, Misty Simpson seems to do her best work when she is actively trying to
prove her coworkers are idiots. No offense.”

  “And none taken. And in the case of Gordon Smoke, that would not be difficult.”

  “Also, and correct me if I’m wrong, but one of the jobs of the Chargé d'affaires is to know what’s going on in the consulate and pay attention to potential compromise.”

  “That is very true,” Hull said. “For his faults, Smoke is conscientious.”

  “So, may I suggest you tell him that you and I are looking into his concerns? I want to keep the pressure on Simpson. If I can legitimately drive her closer to Rainer, then my goals are satisfied.”

  “Referencing my previous comments about spies,” Hull said, “you really are a bastard, aren’t you?”

  “Understand me, Secretary Hull. I take no great pleasure in manipulating the people who work for me. And, Misty Simpson is one of the very best. But I believe one must be absolutely ruthless in preserving the liberties of our nation. It is really no different than the Navy pouring our young men into the maw of the Pacific war. It is bloody and tragic, but it is also absolutely necessary.”

  Hull stared at Donovan for several long moments. Finally, he spoke. “Do you sleep at night, Director Donovan?”

  “Like a baby… after two or three belts of Kentucky bourbon. I told Franklin Roosevelt that I would serve for the duration of the war, but no longer.”

  “So, then, you knew what you were getting into?”

  Donovan shrugged slightly. “Oh, I can’t say I really had any idea of what was involved in being a spymaster. But I was fully aware I would be sending our nation’s best into harm’s way. Let me tell you honestly that it is sobering.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  April 27, 1942; 8AM

  Prime Minister’s Conference Room

  10 Downing Street

  London, United Kingdom

  “Perhaps you would be so kind as to tell me why it has taken two weeks for a report on the German raid on Scapa Flow to reach me,” Winston Churchill said icily.

  Admiral Sir Axelrod Harvey resisted the urge to loosen his collar as he sat across the table from the Prime Minister. Even though the First Lord of the Admiralty and the First Sea Lord were in the room to provide moral support, he was aware he was the man on the spot this morning. And, he was distinctly uncomfortable.

  “You have my apologies, Prime Minister,” he said. “I sent the initial report the morning after the raid. I had hoped to develop further intelligence on how Jerry were able to pull this off so successfully.”

  “And what have you found, Admiral?” Churchill asked.

  “Very little to be honest. Our best guess is that the Luftwaffe was tasked with the raid on the spur of the moment. Their squadrons were in the air to Norway within a day or two. And they mounted the raid the next morning after they arrived in Norway.”

  “Where in Norway?” Churchill asked.

  “Bergen.”

  “That field was not able to park that many aircraft. Did you not have it under surveillance?”

  Again, the admiral felt the need to at least run his finger around the inside of his collar. “The field is surveilled on a weekly basis. And you are correct in that they should not be able to handle that many aircraft.”

  “But it seems they did,” Churchill remarked dryly.

  “We did not receive anything on intentions from Six, Sir,” the First Sea Lord said. Then he quickly added, “Not that we are attempting to pass the blame. I fully accept the responsibility for our lack of preparedness and you can have my resignation at any time.”

  “Let’s put your resignation aside… for the moment,” Churchill said. “The controlling circumstance is that a significant portion of Her Majesty’s fleet rests on the bottom of Scapa Flow. Gentlemen, this should not have happened. And I have had my own conversations with Six over his failures.”

  MI6 was the external intelligence agency for the British government. They ran numerous strings of agents and informers in Germany and occupied Europe. Following Schloss’s accession to the leadership of the Reich the information coming from Germany had dried up. Britain’s intelligence agencies were still grappling with the problem.

  The First Lord of the Admiralty cleared his throat with a heavy bronchial rumble. “Uhum. I suppose we should focus on how to recover from this disaster and avoid it in the future. If I may, Prime Minister, I would say that you may have the resignations of all of us in this room at your pleasure. Getting past the recriminations, we should look at how this impacts our war fighting capabilities and what do we do next”

  Churchill leaned back in his chair and studied the people at the table. “I am not very happy with Her Majesty’s navy at this time. I can understand how something like this can happen. We cannot be strong everywhere. But we certainly ought to be able to avoid disasters like this. That being said, what do you suggest we do next?”

  “What I would suggest,” the First Lord said, “may sound like heresy, Prime Minister. At the current stage of our contest with Germany the navy is less critical. Germany has ceased all attacks on commerce, as have we. What we are left with are U-Boats now concentrating their attacks on warships. While we are certainly capable of defending ourselves; in fact, we are doing rather well against the U-Boats. But, frankly, what we have are very expensive targets. In the calculus of war, if we sink one U-Boat for every destroyer they sink, not to mention the larger ships, we lose. And this is purely from an economic perspective. This doesn’t take into account the loss of experienced sailors.”

  “You are suggesting we abandon the naval war, then?” Churchill asked.

  “No, Sir. We need to be more opportunistic. We should shift our focus on to more light combatants. More frigates and torpedo boats. And we need to rapidly improve our submarines.”

  “A coastal force, then,” Churchill commented.

  “Yes, Sir. For this war, we do not need a blue water navy.”

  Churchill shook his head. “You are right, My Lord, that is heretical. I can hear the admirals screaming now, not to mention the naval committee in the house. And, how will this help against the Jap?”

  “Sir, we have lost the Pacific war. Australia will fall within the month. New Zealand will not be far behind. It is America’s war, now.”

  Churchill got out of his chair and walked over to the window. He looked out at the London skyline as he fiddled with the cigar in his hands. He clipped the end of the cigar and lit it. He continued staring out the window as he puffed energetically. The others were accustomed to his decision-making and waited. Finally, he turned and marched back to the table. He remained standing, but looked down at the others in the meeting.

  “Schloss is the most cunning foe England has ever faced. When we wound him, he retaliates by actions that cause great pain to the military or the government, but leaves the people relatively unscathed. As a result, we get the blame for the failures, rightly or wrongly. He is trying to drive us into settling the war.”

  “Then why should we not sit down with the man and hammer out a settlement, Sir?” the First Sea Lord asked.

  “We could not do so without betraying our allies on the continent,” Churchill said.

  “And if you lose a vote of confidence in the house, what will your replacement do?”

  “And that is something we must avoid at all costs,” Churchill said.

  “Within a generation the Germans will probably free those nations anyway,” the First Sea Lord persisted. “And at far less cost in lives. It seems Schloss is already in the process of granting the Czechs some measure of home rule.”

  “I think, perhaps, you have said enough for today,” the Prime Minister said. “You have given me much to think on.”

  And with that, he walked out of the room. When the door closed the First Lord of the Admiralty turned to the First Sea Lord.

  “What the devil were you thinking, to say something like that, Harry?”

  “I had to tell him what everybody was thinking, Sir. Someone must tell him. Since our heads a
re on a pike anyway, I figured I had nothing to lose. We have got to end this war.”

  “Cripes, Harry. I’m surprised he didn’t throw you out of here.”

  “What if he did?” the First Sea Lord rejoined, his voice rising to a shout. “He needs to hear it, Sir!”

  “Harry said what he thought needed to be said,” someone interrupted.

  They turned at the sound of the voice. Churchill was standing in the doorway.

  “I do not make a practice of shooting the messenger, Gentlemen. Since experiencing that in a previous life, I have no intention of practicing it myself. Now, perhaps you should leave. Your shouting is disturbing the rooks.”

  He puffed on the cigar, and turned again to leave the room. The twinkle was back in his eye.

  § § §

  May 2, 1942; 9PM

  Heydrich Safehouse

  Roseggerstrasse

  Frankfurt, Germany

  “So, you are telling me you want to join the movement?” Reinhard Heydrich asked.

  He was sitting in an upstairs room in the safe house in Frankfurt. He had learned to move around often and not to attract attention. Rainer’s people in the SS were very good and Heydrich did not underestimate them.

  “It would not be… appropriate for me to join the movement,” his guest said. “While I am sympathetic to your goals – in fact, share many of them, my life’s work involves more than Germany.”

  “And your goals?” Heydrich persisted in his questions.

  “Well, of course, obviously we need to protect ourselves against the untermenschen. They breed like rats, otherwise. I also work with kindred organizations in Sweden, Switzerland, and even the United Kingdom.”

  “You… are English?” Heydrich felt his nerves start to tingle.

  “I did not say that.”

  “But you call yourself Glendower. That is from the English bard.”

  The other man shrugged. “I have the same security problems as you, Herr Heydrich. I am many identities to many people.”

  “And how do you keep them straight?”

  “Ach, it is a challenge. I am forced to juggle many lies, for the truth is not always palatable to people.’