Accidental Nazi

by Ward Wagher

  “That is much the same as I have been thinking,” Schloss said. “However, what would be the price required of us to end the war?”

  “A very good question,” Peter said. “The English, of course, would insist on status quo ante. I don't believe they would be willing to simply walk away from the Poles and the Czechs, not to mention the Low Countries.”

  “And the French.”

  Schreiber snorted. “Do you believe anyone honestly cares about the French?”

  “Careful, Peter. Your prejudices are showing through. And what would the Americans desire.”

  “Here our friend was unequivocal. We must cease our persecution of the Jews. Completely.”

  “You have accomplished a lot in a single morning,” Schloss said.

  “The American was remarkably plain spoken. We may be able to wrap things up this afternoon.”

  “We have three days budgeted for this meeting. Don't push so quickly that you risk the overall meeting.”

  “Yes, of course. I still have not played the U-Boat card.”

  Schloss nodded. “We must make sure they understand this is a unilateral concession on our part. A sign of good will, as it were.”

  “I believe it will have the desired effect. No, my main concern is that this American is so aggressively looking for an agreement he will not be taken seriously in Washington.”

  “Is there anything we can do about that?”

  Peter shook his head. “That I do not know. Our Mr. Smoke is a light-weight. He carefully explained to me his background and credentials.”

  “In other words, he was concerned we might not take him seriously ourselves?”

  “Correct. A brilliant man, whom I admire greatly, once told me that I should always be suspicious of anyone who too readily explains his credentials.”

  “Flattery does not become you, Peter.”

  Schreiber just laughed.

  “Very well. You seem to be doing fine,” Schloss said. “Take your time with this – you've got plenty of it. And don't be afraid to utilize the temporary breaks to consult with me.”

  “Of course, mein Herr.”

  “On another topic,” Schloss said, “I had a query from Hess in the morning pouch.”

  Peter raised an eyebrow.

  “He would like me to appoint Lyrius Hannover, II as the Gauleiter for Hannover. I would like your thoughts. Rainer isn't here to ask.”

  “I do not know the man at all,” Peter said. “Sorry.”

  “Fine. It'll wait until we get back to Berlin. I wondered why Hess decided to send this through the diplomatic pouch rather than just ask me face to face.”

  “If I have to say it, Hess is terrified of you.”

  “As well he should be,” Schloss said. “Very well. I'll leave this until I can talk to Rainer.”

  After Peter left the suite to return to the meeting with the Americans, Schloss retreated to his bedroom and stretched out on the bed to read more carefully the contents of the day's diplomatic pouch. As usual the prose was turgid and dry. Within fifteen minutes his arm holding the papers dropped to his side and he slept.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  August 15, 1941; 7 PM

  Lisbon, Portugal

  Schloss completed reading the last page of the report from the meetings and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think things went about as well as we could expect.”

  “Herr Smoke was delighted to have something substantive to take home to Washington,” Schreiber said. “He practically lunged at our offer to pull the U-Boats out of the Atlantic.”

  “You were clear, were you not, that the English naval units are still fair game?”

  “Oh, of course. Our Herr Smoke really does not like the Englanders. He treated that as a minor consideration.”

  “The Englanders are likely to have a different opinion,” Schloss said dryly. “I just hope we did not make a strategic miscalculation. The English have more industrial capacity than we do.”

  “I know Goering is very concerned about that,” Schreiber said. “Stopping their night bombing raids is problematic.”

  The raids conducted by the Royal Air Force were starting to increase again, however the bombers were not again venturing as far as Berlin. Intercepting them was a multifaceted problem, and the English were reacting and innovating as rapidly as the Germans. Goering had not been able to arrange for another surprise interception when the bombers were returning to base. That had succeeded the first time due to the rather massive surprise. The English were much more alert these days.

  “This is something Goering shared with Ribbentrop?”

  “Correct. The Foreign Minister generally shares everything he hears with me.”

  Schloss shook his head. While he trusted Peter, he had concerns about Ribbentrop. “Peter, does Ribbentrop talk too much?”

  “Well... he has told me a lot of things I probably didn't need to hear. But I haven't noticed him saying things to others. He did confide in me one time that since you were my brother-in-law, I provided the most secure conduit for things you needed to hear.”

  “Just be careful Peter. Himmler has his spies everywhere. I most certainly do not want you to find yourself in a dark room someplace having your finger nails pulled out with a pair of pliers.”

  “That is my fervent hope.”

  “Seriously, Peter.”

  “I understand,” he said. “Himmler frightens me.”

  “Well, be careful, for heaven's sake. Nobody likes or trusts Ribbentrop. Hitler was his patron, and now Hitler's dead.”

  “I will be careful, Hennie.”

  Schloss reached over and handed the sheaf of typewritten notes to Schreiber. “Here, why don't you take these over to the embassy and have them photographed. Instruct the cryptographer to store the film under the highest security. If something happens to our plane on the return, they will need to send a courier.”

  “Very well. I suppose I should take one of the guards with me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  After Peter left with the documents Schloss finished his current cup of coffee and retreated to the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom. The bathroom was his only complaint about the hotel. It was simply not very clean. Certainly not up to the standards of the rest of the place. He hated dirty bathrooms. Completing his business, he walked through the bedroom and into the sitting area – and stopped suddenly when a rather large pistol was aimed in his face.

  “Just the chap we've been looking for,” the pistol said.

  Schloss looked behind the pistol and the stocky, ruddy faced man wearing a rumpled suit and a battered porkpie hat. In the corner another man just finished tying up a furious looking guard.

  “You've got the gun,” Schloss said.

  “Right. And we're just going to take a little walk downstairs to the car.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Not that you should worry about it, lad, but we're going to the airport. Some chums back in Blighty want to talk to you.”

  “I don't suppose we can talk about this,” Schloss said.

  “Ha!” Pistol said. “Not much to discuss, I'm thinkin.' Yer might just as well relax and enjoy the ride. Come on, now. And no funny business.”

  “Of course not,” Schloss said. The other man took him by the arm and led him to the door to the suite.

  “A stroke of luck we spotted you here,” Pistol continued as they walked down the hallway to the elevator. “These opportunities don't happen every day.”

  Schloss was thinking hard. Pistol talked too much and gave every indication of being an amateur. The time to break up the party would be when they were walking through the lobby.

  “The Portuguese government will not appreciate this,” Schloss said. “We are on neutral ground.”

  “The Portuguese will do whatever we tell them,” Pistol said.

  The pistol went into a jacket pocket as they waited for the elevator. Schloss decided to be very cooperative for the moment. The elevator operator ap
parently noticed nothing untoward as the three of them entered. No one said anything as the car made its way to the hotel lobby. Schloss was rehearsing his move in his mind. There was likely only one chance to do it. It needed to be right in front of the desk. Hopefully the bell captain would react as quickly as he needed to.

  The elevator doors opened to the lobby. A very surprised looking Peter Schreiber was waiting to get on the elevator.

  “Bloody hell!” said Pistol.

  Peter was the first to react. He reached in and grabbed Pistol's tie and yanked him out of the elevator. The porkpie hat sailed off to one side as the British agent's head hit the marble baseboard with a resounding crack. The other man stared at the Walther P38 which had magically appeared in Schreiber's hand.

  The bell captain and the desk manager ran around the corner and slid to a stop.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  “It seems we have stopped a kidnapping,” Schreiber said.

  “You will find my guard tied up in our suite,” Schloss said. “I find this inconvenient.”

  “Call the police,” the desk manager said to the bell captain.

  Instead of the police, several members of the Portuguese secret police showed up. Accompanying them was Captain Agostinho Lourenco, head of the PVDE, as the organization was known.

  “Can you tell me what happened, Herr...” Lourenco said, looking at Schloss.

  “Eisengruber,” Schloss supplied. “When I came out of the toilet these two had my man tied up and pointed a gun at me. The man on the floor there explained that they were going to fly me to England.”

  Lourenco turned pale. “Such things should not happen in Lisbon. It looks like you were able to interrupt the kidnapping.”

  “Fortunately Peter, here, was quick thinking. He was obviously in the right place at the right time.”

  “Just so,” the Captain said. “Well, let us get this cleaned up so you can go about your business. And you have my apologies for our lack of oversight.”

  # # #

  August 16, 1941; 7 AM

  Lisbon Airport

  Lisbon, Portugal

  “Are we set?” Schloss asked.

  Colonel Hauser glanced again at the paperwork in his hand before looking up. “Yes, Sir. We have clearance. We can leave at any time.”

  “How does the airplane look?”

  “The aircraft is ready in all respects, Sir.”

  Captain Lourenco waited with them, and stared out at the Focke-Wulf parked on the tarmac in front of the hangar.

  He turned to Schloss. “I wish to apologize once again for all of the inconvenience last night, Herr Eisengruber. And I also wish to convey the apologies of President of the Council Salazar. He was greatly embarrassed by the incident.”

  “Quite all right,” Schloss said. “The events were not your fault.”

  “Unfortunately a couple of British agents took advantage of the friendship between our countries. They are, of course, no longer welcome here.”

  “We do appreciate your hospitality,” Schreiber said. “Our time here was profitable. The graciousness and hospitality of the Portuguese people was outstanding.”

  “We, of course, have no official knowledge of your business here. However, the American visitors will be leaving tomorrow.” The man nodded at the olive drab colored Boeing 307 Stratoliner parked in the next space.

  “How very interesting,” Schloss said. “The Americans came a long way.”

  “Very much so.”

  “We should be off, then,” Schloss said. “Thank you once again for your help.”

  The Portuguese policeman shook their hands as they walked out to the Condor. As Schloss climbed the ladder into the airplane he looked around. Parked nearby was a Royal Air Force Dakota. Several people were standing around it. One man, missing his porkpie hat, was wearing a turban-like bandage around his head. He nodded at Schloss. Schloss thought for a moment, then raised his hand with his middle finger extended. He then climbed aboard the Condor.

  As the Condor climbed out of Lisbon, Schloss opened the morning mail from the embassy. Schreiber was working on a similar packet from Ribbentrop. The stenographer sat in the back of the plane with a book, and the two guards chatted quietly.

  “Do you think the police captain knew who you really were?” Peter asked.

  “Oh, there wasn't much question in my mind. Notice how careful they were in keeping a lid on things. If Lisbon becomes known as a good meeting place between the parties in the conflict, it provides additional security for Salazar. In case Ribbentrop has not explained to you, Salazar has been adept at playing one side off against the other.”

  “The Portuguese seemed anxious to help,” Peter said. “I suspect they will be much more protective if we do something like this again.”

  “Agreed,” Schloss said. “We need to do something nice for Salazar and his police forces if the opportunity presents.”

  “I will mention that to the foreign minister,” Peter said. “Our ambassador in Lisbon is very capable.”

  “I probably should have met the ambassador.”

  “Having deniability may be better,” Peter said.

  Schloss nodded. “Maybe so.”

  “All in all, a successful meeting,” he continued.

  “If our American diplomat survives the experience,” Schreiber said. “I have become convinced neither the American Secretary of State nor the President knew about his travel here.”

  “I think that is very clear. However, our concession is just about guaranteed to gain attention in Washington.”

  “How do you think they will respond?”

  Schloss shrugged. “I honestly do not know. However, my main goal is to delay their entry into the war for as long as possible. I mean, we all know it is coming if things don’t change.”

  “The question is, have things changed enough for us to avoid it?”

  “We can hope. A lot depends on Churchill's reaction, since the English obviously now know about our visit.”

  “Do you have other ideas for keeping the Americans out?” Schreiber asked.

  “I have some things in mind. I believe we defused things on this side of the world. The next major risk is in the Far East.”

  “The Japanese?”

  “Right. The Americans and the English are very exposed right now. I'm very much afraid the Japanese will execute a strike. Then the Americans and the English will be in that war together. And technically we are obligated to support the Japanese.”

  “How likely are the Japanese to succeed?” Schreiber asked.

  “Against the Americans?” Schloss asked, his eyebrows raised. “Nobody in Europe or Japan really understands the size of the American industrial plant. Look at the statistics. If the Americans go fully into war mode, they will cover up Japan with steel.”

  “That is hard to comprehend.”

  “Believe it, Peter. They are bigger than Germany, Japan, and probably England combined. Think about that.”

  The two men went back to reading their mail. The Condor shuddered slightly as it rose through the light clouds during its climb. The steward made his way back from the cockpit with coffee and pastries. It was perhaps an hour later when Schreiber spoke again.

  “So what are your plans for dealing with the next crisis and the Americans?”

  “We have just a couple of arrows in that quiver, Peter,” Schloss said. “First of all, I plan to tell the Japanese that if they attack the Americans they will be on their own. And I'm going to warn the Americans.”

  “What about our treaty with them? They are a full partner in the Axis.”

  “Think about the nature of the Axis. Let's face it, the Italians are a joke. The Japanese are simply scary. They have their warrior ethos and they think that will magically carry them through to victory. I'm sorry, but that is probably an even bigger joke. For all intents and purposes, Germany is on her own.”

  “But we are very strong.”

  “We have the strong
est Army in the world. But the Royal Navy completely outclasses us. I think our air forces have parity for the moment. But make no mistake, the English are very, very determined. It is all going fall to which of us gets our next generation of weapons on line first. If we can force the English to sue for peace, then we will have bought ourselves twenty years before the next war.”

  “And what war will that be?”

  “A very good question, indeed,” Schloss said. “The Americans? The Russians? I am sure that the English will be no further threat to us if we can get through the next three to five years.”

  “How do you know these things, Hennie?”

  “As I've said, I read a lot. I try to maintain a clear-eyed view of the world.”

  Schreiber shook his head. “You continually amaze me, Hennie. You are one of the most conservative thinkers I know. Yet you take these enormous risks, and they always pay off.”

  “So far. I try to always bet on a sure thing. But sooner or later I will make a false step. Everyone does eventually. When that does happen, I want the Fatherland to be so strong we can survive it; like we would a hiccup.”

  “And what about Himmler? What about the Jews?”

  “That's tomorrow's problem, Peter. We will fly home, have a good night's sleep, then we'll go to our respective offices and decide we must be insane to play these games.”

  Schreiber nodded, and looked down at his work again. Schloss pulled out a copy of the Berliner Zeitung, which he had picked up before leaving the hotel that morning. The front page had a long story about the speeches Rudolf Hess was making around the country. He had generated a lot of excitement and people were beginning to call him the next Fuhrer.

  And that is a problem for yet another day, Schloss thought to himself.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  September 1, 1941; 9:30 AM

  Abwehr Headquarters, Tirpitzufer, Berlin

  Admiral Wilhelm Canaris looked across the table at his guest. Schloss had called and requested the meeting on short notice and the Admiral was both curious and concerned.