by Ward Wagher
It was quiet that evening in the apartment, and comfortable. The ticking of a mantel clock, sitting across the room on a table, was soothing. The book slipped out of her hands and lay open on her lap as she drifted into sleep. She roused slightly, thinking she needed to go to bed, but she was very comfortable and relaxed. Getting out of the chair seemed like a huge effort.
“I understand that you asked if I could give you some advice, Miss Simpson,” said the old woman in perfect American English.
Misty tried to swim up through the levels of somnolence, thinking she should be alarmed at the intruder in her apartment.
“Maybe I was out of line to ask for your help,” she muttered.
“Nevertheless, I am here. Let us not waste the night. We can talk about your quandary.”
Misty opened her eyes and saw the old lady sitting across from her. “How did you get in here?”
“That matters not,” the old lady said with a shrug.
“And you are speaking English.”
“I believe we can communicate better in your native tongue.”
“I think I’m in love with two men,” Misty blurted out. “They are both very good men, and I do not know what to do.”
“Your judgment about men is very good,” the old lady said. “You are mature enough to consider choosing someone who will be your partner for life. Either of your friends would be suitable, in fact, both are very willing. Both are very much like your father, and that is probably why you find them so attractive. Your father is also a very good man.”
“You know my father?” Misty asked.
“I know of your father.”
“So, you see why I have such a problem.”
The old lady chuckled deep in her throat. “Yes, and this was through no fault of your own. Situations like this occur to help us learn more about ourselves, and to teach us to refine our judgment.”
“You are saying this was arranged?” Misty asked.
The old woman nodded. “You were placed here for a purpose, Miss Simpson. You were used to help prevent a great tragedy in Europe. And you will help forestall another great tragedy.”
“And you are talking in riddles.”
“Consider the men with whom you interact. You have made Mister Smoke successful, perhaps in spite of his best efforts,” the old woman said with a smile. “You have Major Johnson focused on the tasks he needs to accomplish here, in spite of the distractions.”
“And what of Karl?” Misty asked.
“Mister Rainer is a lonely man. He has several close friends, and he is beloved by his sister. But he stands alone in his position, with no one to whom he can share his thoughts. You have become his conduit of information to the United States, and this is very important. Understand also that this became a subconscious pretext because he enjoys sharing information with you.”
“But that still doesn’t answer my question.”
“You have a strong personality,” the old lady said. “You see things that need to be done, and you do them. You are not afraid to make decisions and can follow through with ruthlessness. Mister Rainer respects that. He finds it attractive and does not feel threatened by it. Over the years, however, Mister Johnson would become frustrated by this, and you would ultimately resent his efforts to shelter and control you.”
“So, you are telling me that Lane is a poor long-term bet?” Misty asked with a one-sided smile.
The old woman chuckled softly. “You are quick to understand. There is a lady in the United States who made some poor decisions regarding Mister Johnson and now regrets that. In a moment of impatience and pique, he left her to come to Europe. You must encourage him to remember her.”
Misty pondered what the old woman had told her. She made it sound so easy, and obvious. But she still faced the issue that prevented her from moving closer to Karl.
“But I cannot grow close to Karl without compromising my job as a United States diplomat. Our two countries are friendly now, but that may not always be the case.”
The old woman smiled. “Yes, that is a problem. But, Miss Simpson, you are a problem solver. I am sure that you will come to an understanding. Remember that director Donovan reads your reports, and he has a better understanding of your dilemma than you think he does.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
The old woman raised an eyebrow. “I think you will be able to figure that out. Now, you need to rest. It is late, and I have things to do.”
Misty felt her eyelids become heavy again, and she drifted off to sleep. Sometime during the night, she awakened to a cold cup of cocoa, and her book had slid off her lap onto the floor. And, no one else was in the apartment. She leaped out of her chair and ran over to the door to the hallway. The door was locked. She ran through the apartment checking the closets, and even got on her hands and knees and looked under the bed. Had she dreamed this?
She remembered that Frau Marsden had been in the Embassy once before, and no one else had seen her. It looked like the second visit was the same. She was thoughtful as she brushed her teeth and crawled into her bed. She wondered if she would sleep for the rest of the night, but the soporific atmosphere drifted over her, and she slept.
§ § §
March 2, 1943; 8 PM
42 Ernst-Ludwig Strasse
Russelsheim, Germany
Anton Keller looked around the room where he lived. He considered himself lucky to have a job, but the pay was barely enough to cover the single room he rented, his food and clothing. He pulled on his coat, gloves and the stocking cap his friend Wilfrid Vogel had given him. The hat had been designed specifically for this night’s activities. Openings for his eyes and mouth had been roughly cut in the woven material.
The union was going to march tonight. Vogel had told him that protests were arranged for all of the major cities in Germany, and everyone was excited to be a part of it. Anton had some fear of losing his job because of this, however, Vogel assured him that Opel could not fire everyone. He hoped that was true. He rolled up the cap and stuffed it in his pocket. There was no sense in alerting the citizens of Russelsheim that something unpleasant was going to happen. He left his room in the house on Ernst-Ludwig Street and made his way to the meeting place.
The spring weather had stayed for the time being, and it was not unpleasantly cold. When he arrived, the group of workers already there were passing around a flask of Schnapps, and that removed the rest of the chill. He recognized a number of his friends, and his misgivings disappeared. They would work their way to a major street and kick off their protest. Vogel had emphasized the desire for peaceful activity so this would turn out to be a fun evening with some friends. Who knows, perhaps the government would realize their error and encourage Opelwerke to increase the pay of the employees.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
March 3, 1943; 8 AM
Reichsprotektor’s Office
SS Headquarters
Berlin, Germany
“How many arrests have you made?” Karl Rainer asked.
“We have made no arrests, Herr Reichsprotektor,” Rainer’s adjutant said. “The protesters were being law-abiding.”
Rainer’s lips formed a thin line on his face. “Very well, but you do know who the ringleaders are.”
“In most cases, we have identified the ringleaders,” his adjutant admitted.
Rainer sighed. He had backed himself into a corner by repeating Schloss’s emphasis on respecting the civil rights of Germans. To be completely honest with himself, he had no desire to go back to the days where the Gestapo could pull people in on a whim. But there was something going on. It was clearly no coincidence that the workers’ protests popped up in fourteen cities on the same date. He thought about it and then turned around to his adjutant.
“Have our people contact the ringleaders and invite them into the offices for an interview,” he said carefully. “I need to go see the Reich Chancellor and tell them what we know. Right now, it isn’t much. See what you can fin
d out.”
The adjutant clicked his heels together. “At once, Herr Reichsprotektor.”
Being deep in thought, he ignored everyone as he walked quickly from his office to the elevator. He was almost certain this was a Russian provocation, but absent visible evidence, there was little he could do. He looked at the floor of the elevator as they descended smoothly to the ground floor of the building. He briefly considered whether something like this was incited by the English but discarded that line of thought immediately. The English had agents in the country, but the SS knew who they were. He was content to let the English agents do as they wished as long as they did not break the law. If it became necessary, he could quickly sweep them up. No, this was something else and potentially more serious.
He absently noted that Berlin was bustling with commerce as he swept across the city in his motorcade. The enterprising English had seen their economy rebound after the close of hostilities. The German economy was even more robust. Joachim Ribbentrop was carefully encouraging the weaker sectors of the manufacturing sector to increase production and get their costs under control. With Stalin clearly fishing in troubled waters, he wondered if it would be enough.
Rainer walked quickly through the marble corridors of the Reich Chancellery and stepped into Willem Kirche’s office. He hated imposing upon Schloss for these unscheduled meetings, but the Reich Chancellor had never complained about the interruptions.
“Good morning Willem, would I be able to take a few moments of the Reich Chancellor’s time?”
Kirke had stood up quickly. “One moment please Herr Reichsprotektor. I will see if he is available.”
The secretary slipped through the door into Schloss’s office and a few moments later he came back through. “The Reich Chancellor will see you now, Herr Reichsprotektor.”
“I just love the way you manage to ruin my mornings, Karl,” Schloss said with a smile.
“Well, Herr Schloss, it was a quiet morning so I thought, what the hell, I’ll run over to the Reich Chancellery and see what you are doing.”
Schloss snorted. “You have no idea how much I wish that were the case, Karl.”
“I assume you saw the papers about the workers' protests across the country last night?”
“Yes, I did,” Schloss replied. “What was it, in about a dozen cities?”
“It was fourteen. The groups were largely made up of factory workers. They were very polite and caused no trouble.”
“And we made no arrests, right?”
Rainer nodded. “There was no reason to go and start breaking heads. My people are quietly investigating, and I hope to have some further information for you before the day is out.”
Schloss looked sharply at Rainer. “I trust you are not planning to work them over with a rubber hose.”
“We will politely invite them to our offices and have an interview. It will be very civilized, Herr Reich Chancellor.”
“I suppose I can live with that,” Schloss said, biting his lip. “I had a call from Peter this morning. The local papers are already pestering his office. Unfortunately, this will probably end up being the biggest news of the week.”
“Considering the alternatives,” Rainer said, “I think we could live with that.”
“You may have a point there, Karl.”
“We should consider whether this was a provocation by the Russians,” Schloss mused.
“It would almost have to be,” Rainer replied. “There have been no hints of worker unrest. This just popped up out of nowhere.”
“And the Russians would be the logical culprits.”
Rainer nodded. “That was my thought.”
“If that is the case, then we need to be prepared for things to get violent. I can guess that Stalin is looking for his pretext to invade. Something like that would certainly give him one. We need to talk about how we should respond to something like that. There are a lot of reasons why we would not want to send the SS out into the streets to restore order.”
“It is our job to maintain order,” Rainer commented, “but, I understand your concerns. If we are forced to respond to violence with our own violence, we will undo a lot of the good we have done over the past year.”
“Exactly,” Schloss said. “I am tempted to have Guderian prepare to bring the Army in if this becomes necessary. But I really do not want to do that either. Do you think the local Polizei are strong enough yet that they could handle it?”
Rainer grimaced and shook his head. “I really don’t know what would be worse. We have the old guard that we released from the Gestapo and have rejoined the local Polizei. And, we have the new recruits who are still afraid of their shadows. We may have to make do with that. I still have a couple of intervention battalions of the SS. I can have them on alert, in case things get out of hand. Perhaps we can talk to Guderian and alert several battalions. One way or the other, Herr Reich Chancellor, we need to get in front of this thing.”
“I agree. If we allow labor unrest to tear the country apart, there won’t be anything to stop Stalin. Do the workers have any kind of an explicit agenda?”
“We have collected a few of the pamphlets. They are very vague. In general, they are talking about more pay and fewer hours.”
“I have been worried about the potential for labor unrest,” Schloss said. “If I could generalize, I would say that the average worker is not treated well. There are some exceptions. The KdF is popular and seems to ameliorate the worst of the abuses. It would work a lot better if Robert Ley and his henchman hadn’t drained the funds out of the thing.”
“But we are correcting that,” Rainer replied, “and doing so publicly.”
“True, and that should help. But, I wonder if we ought to consider imposing a few labor regulations.”
“The regulations we have now are largely ignored,” Rainer commented.
“Should we crack down on the more flagrant violations? It might quiet things down.”
“I agree that it might help,” Rainer said. “However, I don’t think that this started because of general dissatisfaction.”
“I understand. But perhaps we can take some of the air out of their tires by getting proactive about this. I will talk to Ribbentrop about it today.”
“With that then,” Rainer said, “I’ve taken enough of your time. I suppose I should get back to the office.”
§ § §
March 3, 1943; 9 AM
Near Aswad, Libya
Stefan Gorber watched as crude oil was pumped into the five thousand liter Lancia 3Ro tanker truck. Vincent had managed to round up twenty of the trucks, and a steady stream of oil was now flowing to Tripoli over the unimproved road. The ship waited in the harbor, and the trucks lined up to pump their cargo into the holds of the small tanker ship.
This was but a small fraction of the oil Germany needed, however, this first cargo would easily pay for the cost of the exploration and drilling. Another ship was on the way from Italy and should come into dock shortly after the first one left. The Standard–IG Farben Company was sending a team in to take over management of the oil transport. The company was also assembling another team to build the pipeline from the new oilfield to the port.
Gorber would be delighted when the new teams arrived. He planned to move his team to an area relatively close to the original well and sink another hole. The area smelled to him like it would hold substantial reserves. If he could successfully drill a series of wells, the output would be a serious addition to supplying Germany’s oil needs.
Vincent Chase walked up to him as he watched the operation. “This has to be just about the easiest wildcat we’ve ever done.”
Gorber grinned. “Do you think we dare give them in a day in Tripoli?”
Chase bit his lower lip and thought and tilted his head from side to side. “I don’t know, Stefan. That town is kind of wild and woolly.”
“I think they’ve earned a little time off. How about if we tell them they have to go in groups of four? That
would help protect against the odd knife attack, as well as the pickpockets.”
“Okay, when do you want to do this?” Chase asked.
“Let’s get the logistics team in place and familiar with the operation. If it seems like they know what they’re doing, we can turn the boys loose.”
“And who is going to guard our equipment while everybody’s in Tripoli?”
Gorber laughed and slapped Chase on the back. “Why, you and I are going to do that.”
“Oh, thanks loads, boss.”
Gorber laughed. “Seriously, we still have the Wehrmacht troops here. And I plan to stay here at the site. I’m too old for the fleshpots of the big city.”
“Such as it is in Tripoli,” Chase sniffed. “Yeah, I’ll stay here, too, Boss. I’m really not worried about the men. They’ve proven they can handle themselves.”
“That is what I was thinking. I would like to sit down you and plan the next several wells. I think we have a regular oil-field here, and we are going to generate some output.”
“How long do you expect to be here in Libya, Boss?” Chase asked.
“I don’t know for sure, Vince. Our employers want us to develop this field. I think we will be doing some prospecting elsewhere in Libya.”
“What will the Italians think about that?”
Gorber shook his head. “Hard to say, Vince. The Germans are here because the Italian army made a complete hash of things. Rommel pulled their chestnuts out of the fire, for sure. They are really not in a position to complain, and honestly, I haven’t heard any of the Eye-Ties say a word about it. Ribbentrop mentioned they were trying to give due consideration to them, though.”
