"Oh, really?" she asked. "Wrong how?"
"Wrong because it doesn't explain enough. Yes, I think you are one of those intellectual types with no use for fashion, but it's more than that. You are hiding."
Johanna said nothing.
"And I'm sure you tell yourself that you are trying to be taken seriously, respected for your mind, but that's rubbish," he continued. "As soon as you open your mouth, anyone can see that you are brilliant. You are trying not to be noticed, and I don't know why. But I can tell you that it's not working. I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."
Johanna turned away and looked out the window into the darkness. Hagen finished his coffee in silence.
As daylight gave way to dusk, lights began to go on in the Lindbergh house. It was the first sign that anyone was home. Johanna looked for shadows moving behind the windows, but saw nothing.
At about an hour after nightfall, the same gray Chevrolet pulled up to the house.
Again, Hagen checked his gun, pulling back the slide and letting it go. Johanna decided it must be some army habit. What could have changed? It's been sitting in his pocket since last night.
Johanna readied herself to get out of the car and repeat their last nights' surveillance of Viersing from the hedges. Instead, Hagen put his hand on hers and told her to stay in the car a moment.
"The time has come. You are going to be my witness. That means you do not interfere, you say nothing. You observe and that is all, do you understand?"
Johanna felt a burst of adrenaline. This is it. She nodded.
"Very well," Hagen continued. "Viersing is here to kill Lindbergh, and I am here to stop him."
Johanna felt a moment of vertigo as the shock of it hit her.
"What?"
The driver's side door of the Chevrolet opened. This time only one man got out of the car and made his way to the low brick wall.
"I will explain later," Hagen said. "Come."
Johanna's mind was still reeling as she followed Hagen to the Lindbergh property. Viersing was going to kill Lindbergh? Why? Why would Nazis kill the man who was their most famous sympathizer? He was the biggest proponent of US neutrality. Why would they kill the man who could single-handedly keep the US out of a war with Germany?
Johanna felt like Alice through the Looking Glass.
From their vantage point, they could see a dark figure again looking in the windows. Hagen pulled out his gun and seemed like he was about to confront Viersing, but stopped when Viersing turned around and walked back to the car. Again, Hagen and Johanna hid behind the hedge and watched him drive away.
"Perhaps he is not at home," Hagen suggested. He pulled Johanna along and walked over to the Lindbergh mailbox, finding that it had not been checked. He pulled a letter out and they walked up to the front door. He rang the bell and waited.
A maid answered the door and Hagen put on an act of being a friendly neighbor.
"Some of your mail got mixed up with mine, I think." Johanna marveled at how well he concealed his German accent. Now his English had a Scandinavian cadence to it. "Is Mister at home?"
The maid said no and thanked him. Hagen tipped his hat and they left.
Johanna was still so baffled by what Hagen had told her that she walked in stunned silence back to the car.
Hagen cursed his luck and said that he'd hoped tonight would be the night he would complete his mission. He started the engine and turned the heat up, warming his hands over the vents.
Johanna rubbed her eyes. "I have to say that I'm speechless. Do you mean to tell me that there's a Nazi plot to assassinate Charles Lindbergh? Their most visible supporter? It's senseless."
Hagen shrugged. "If there's one thing I've learned in the military, it's not to try to make sense of the senseless."
She pressed him for an explanation, and for once he obliged.
The plot had been hatched by Reinhard Heydrich, the head of the SS's Reich Main Security Office, earlier that summer. His plan was for one of his SD agents to kill Lindbergh and frame Communists for the assassination. The idea was that if Americans believed it was indeed a Communist that had murdered Lindbergh, they would be more sympathetic to the argument that Hitler was just fighting Communism and that the United States should not intervene in the war. If Heydrich was successful in engineering a non-aggression pact between Germany and the US, he would have proven himself the superior intelligence operative over the hated Admiral Canaris of the Abwehr. The Führer could not help but be impressed and give him full dominion over military intelligence, making his dream of total SS control a reality.
On the other hand, if the plot failed and the United States learned that it was a German assassin, Americans would be incensed, creating a world of problems for Hitler, Goebbels and all the rest. Heydrich would be sure to pin the blame on Canaris. Once again, Canaris' agents bungle the job, he would say. Canaris would be shot, and Heydrich would ascend to what he saw as his rightful place, chief of Gestapo, criminal police, political intelligence and now military intelligence.
Johanna sat stunned for a moment, not comprehending.
"So, this Lindbergh assassination business is nothing more than some Nazi turf war?"
"It is that and much more," Hagen replied. "Most of the German High Command, Hitler included, see America as nothing more than Hollywood, beauty queens and 'race mongrels.' They completely dismiss her power as a potential enemy in war. A few of us know better. Your industrial capacity alone is sufficient to drown us in steel and bullets. If Heydrich's ridiculous plan to frame Communists fails, as of course it will, war between Germany and the United States will be inevitable."
The two sat in silence while Johanna let this all sink in.
"Well," she said after a few minutes, pulling her coat closer around her shoulders. "If Viersing's really going to assassinate Lindbergh, why don't we just find out where Lindbergh is and catch him there?"
"Agreed," Hagen replied. "But the man is a world traveler. How will we find out where he is?"
"I would start with the America First Committee. Last I heard, he had made agitation for non-intervention a full-time job."
Hagen agreed and they headed back to the city.
"Yes, sir, I'm serious. They just left, about fifteen minutes after Viersing. We didn't know which car to follow, so we decided to follow the girl, figuring it would be easier. They're stopped for gas right now across the street. Should we stay on them?"
Wexler could hear the wind blowing into the payphone on the other end of the line.
"What in the hell…?" he muttered.
"Well, sir, maybe they're…"
"That was a rhetorical question," Wexler snapped. "When I want you to exercise your keen powers of observation, I'll tell you. I'm sending another car to catch up with Viersing. You stay on the girl and her Nazi boyfriend."
"Yes, sir. Oh, and sir?"
"What?"
"Special Agent Oliver just handed me a note. He says that the house is being rented by Charles Lindbergh."
"Holy shit." Wexler whistled.
"I know sir, can you believe it? It's like…"
"It's like nothing," Wexler shot back. "And it'll stay like nothing. You keep it under your hat, understood? You say a word and I'll have you investigating poachers in the Yukon by tomorrow morning, got it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Stay on the girl and keep me posted."
Wexler hung up the phone and put his feet up on the desk. If those sons of bitches in Washington didn't see fit to promote me after I rounded up the Duquesne spy ring, this will cinch it. Lucky Lindy was a Nazi spy. Or maybe he's helping them in their subversive activities. I knew it. And the COI's girl was involved. Now all I need to do is catch them in the act. Then I can start shopping for houses in WashingtonDC.
35
On the way back to Manhattan, Johanna told Hagen everything she knew about the America First Committee. She couldn't remember if it had started at Yale or Columbia, but she knew
that it had grown to be a national organization over the past year or two. She said there were constantly events and speeches sponsored by the Committee at Michigan and around the country.
Lindbergh had given several speeches about the need to build a 'Fortress America' and the need to protect American democracy by keeping out of Europe's war. He had become the face of the isolationist movement. Johanna had heard one of his speeches on the radio and thought it was hopeless fantasy. She told Hagen that with the belligerence of Hitler and the loss of democracy in Europe, there was no way that the U.S. would be able to co-exist peacefully with a Nazified Europe.
Simply 'staying out of it' made no sense to her, since the US couldn't stay out of the world. Did the America Firsters think that things like international trade would just continue as if nothing had ever happened? That if Hitler grabbed all of Europe he would be satisfied and never threaten the US? What is the point of having alliances if you let your supposed allies be destroyed by madmen?
She thought that the only explanation for the popularity of America First was that people were ignorant of just how bad the Nazis were. They must see the war in Europe as just a squabble among ancient enemies – perpetually fighting neighbors that were just repeating the past. She knew better. She knew that the Nazis, with their Master Race pseudo-science and Jew-hatred, would not stop on their own. She could only shake her head when she had listened to Lindbergh. Avoiding war is nice, she had thought. But what if it can't be avoided? Should you wait until it's too late, or take action now?
Hagen listened in silence and made no comment, even as Johanna displayed her contempt for Hitler and the Nazis. He made no sign of agreement or disagreement. He stared straight ahead and drove.
When Johanna had finished, Hagen steered the conversation back to finding Lindbergh. He asked if they were likely to have any offices in New York that they might be able to ask about Lindbergh's whereabouts.
"I don't know," she answered. "But even if they do, I don't think it would be worth our time to go there. I read somewhere that ever since their son was kidnapped and murdered, the Lindberghs have been wary of public attention. I don't think anyone's going to tell us where he is. We need to find him on our own."
She stopped and realized that she had spoken as if the search for Lindbergh was her own. It was more than that – now she felt it. Even though she had nothing but contempt for Lindbergh, she didn't want any Nazi coming on US soil to kill him either.
Johanna flipped on the radio. She immediately recognized Walter Winchell's voice.
"…Mr. and Mrs. North America and all the ships at sea. Let's go to press."
Johanna turned up the volume.
"Hitler has done it this time, ladies and gentlemen. Surely, this means war. The USS Rueben James, a United States Navy destroyer, has been sunk, I repeat, has been sunk by a German U-boat near Iceland. The dastardly Hun is now responsible for the deaths of over one hundred of our American boys. What do you say to their mothers, Mr. President? What do you say Mr. Lindbergh? I say again, this means war."
Hagen switched the radio off, turning the knob so hard it snapped off.
"That's terrible," Johanna said. She saw Hagen nod, as if in agreement.
She was at a loss for a way to find Lindbergh, and they drove in silence for some time before she jumped up in her seat.
"Wait! What was that?" She pointed to a bustling street corner. "On that light post."
Hagen pulled the car over to the curb and they read the sign that had been taped to the pole.
Johanna smiled and turned to Hagen. "There's your damn luck you're always worried about."
It was a poster, with large black type over an American flag. It said 'America First Rally Against War. MadisonSquareGarden. October 31st, 1941. 8:15pm. Charles Lindbergh – Senator Burton K. Wheeler and others.' The 31st was tomorrow.
They discussed the difficulties presented by such a public event. It seemed an obvious place for Viersing to try to get to Lindbergh, but Hagen wasn't sure. Viersing could wait until after the rally and follow Lindbergh home or wait for him there. Johanna added that there might be a standing warrant for her arrest after her non-appearance for her 'espionage' trial.
"I assume that no one in the courts or the New York Police Department was told the truth. As far as they're concerned, I'm probably a wanted fugitive. I'm sure there will be lots of police at the rally."
Hagen nodded. "The police may be a problem. However, crowds can work in your favor. We will go to the safe house, get some food and some rest and prepare for tomorrow night."
Muttering something about the police, Hagen took a circuitous route back to Brooklyn, doubling back over side streets and running a red light. Johanna assumed he was taking precautions in case they were being followed.
Wexler's phone rang. He told one of the agents in his office to answer it. Wexler yawned and popped a cold French fry into his mouth. He grimaced and wadded up the hamburger wrapper, throwing it into a nearby garbage can.
The agent hung up the phone and avoided eye contact with Wexler.
"Well?" Wexler asked.
"That was Bill Oliver," the young agent replied. "They lost the girl and her boyfriend. They were in Manhattan when the guy started driving like he knew we were tailing him."
Wexler ran a hand over his face and sighed.
"Will the academy ever graduate anyone who knows what they're doing?" He pointed to another agent who was standing in front of a blackboard on an easel. The blackboard was covered with names of FBI agents assigned to the New York bureau. "All right, that's everyone. What do we have, fifty?
"I want them all briefed and ready for the rally tomorrow night. It's obvious that our Nazi friends are going to make contact with Lindbergh soon. He's probably going to pass some document or something to them. We're going to have every inch of MadisonSquareGarden covered. If Viersing, the girl or her boyfriend make contact with Lindbergh, we'll see it. I want to put the cuffs on Lindbergh myself.
"I want a packet for every agent, pictures of Viersing, the girl and the mystery man. If anyone says they need a picture of Lindbergh, tell them they're fired."
He looked at a photo of Johanna that he had pinned on a bulletin board. In it, the wind had caught the edge of her red raincoat and the hem of her dress, exposing her left knee and an inch or so of her thigh.
"We do have one thing going for us. That girl is hard to miss in a crowd."
36
British Security Coordination – New York City
William Stephenson sipped his morning coffee. The sun streamed in his only office window and shone through the paper of a shipping report he was reading. Hundreds of thousands of tons of war materiel were making their way daily to Southampton, Manchester and every other British port. His job was to ensure that each bullet arrived, safe from the predations of German U-boats.
This morning, however, he had one more thing to worry about, courtesy of the amateur-hour Americans. He had told Bill Donovan and the rest of COI that he had no opinion about sending the Falck girl to Germany. Either she would succeed or she wouldn't. Every agent, spy, soldier or sailor they could throw at the Nazi war machine should be used. Now, she had become another headache for him.
A knock at the door brought two BSC agents into his cramped office. The room itself was sizeable, but boxes, maps and bookcases used up what room there was. The two men cleared off chairs and sat in front of Stephenson's desk.
The two men were dressed like any other New York businessmen, their true purpose hidden. Captains James Alexander and Robert Mearah, both of the Special Operations Executive, were in the United States as part of the BSC's liaison efforts with COI.
Alexander, a tall and gaunt Londoner, resented being taken out of the field for what he thought of as babysitting. He had spent nearly a year working with French, Dutch and Polish recruits, training them for espionage and sabotage on the Continent. He itched to be back in the Scottish Highlands at the SOE's commando school. Lest anyone
doubt his desire to be here, he walked around with a permanent scowl.
Mearah, however, rather enjoyed his new role with BSC. A short, muscular Irishman, he saw it as his personal mission to bring the United States into the war. He cheerfully reminded any American who would listen just how many of their countrymen had already been killed by German U-boats. Every man he trained at COI soon got used to his demonstrations that would start, "Let's say you've parachuted into Belgium…", or "Once your American army has invaded Yugoslavia…."
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