Stallings was silent and Tracie said, “Sir, how confident are you that no other intelligence services besides the KGB are aware of Newmann and the existence of the key and the treasure?
“I was extremely confident, right up until the last few days. But I didn’t realize the Soviets knew about it, either. And if the Soviets knew, or found out somehow, it’s entirely possible other countries have become aware as well.”
Stallings fell silent, and it was clear to Tracie this intelligence lapse was wearing on him.
“Let’s face it,” he finally continued. “My confidence that we were the only ones with knowledge of the Amber Room key was based on nothing more than the knowledge that Klaus Newmann had had access to this trove of riches for four decades and no one had ever attempted to relieve him of it. Even I wasn’t around when Phoenix was formed, and when all this intel was gathered and archived.”
“Sir, what if your assumption was correct? What if the Soviets learned about Phoenix through a security leak within the organization itself, and nobody else knows? What if it wasn’t some mysterious third country’s intelligence service running the op against the Soviet?”
“What are you saying?”
“I think you know what I’m saying. I think you’ve already thought of it.”
“Don’t play games with me, Tanner. Time is ticking. Spill it. I want to hear your thoughts. Now.”
“Sir, I think the most likely possibility is that Newmann’s own organization is once again in possession of the key.”
“You think this was Phoenix?”
“I think it’s the only realistic possibility.”
“And why do you believe that, Tanner?”
“Think about it, sir. This Phoenix group has been preparing for the last forty years for the return to power of their precious Nazi party. No matter how much they may have trusted Newmann, it’s hard to imagine they would have left everything in his hands, with no control and no backup. What if he got cold feet? What if he was killed in an accident? Most importantly, what if he wasn’t quite the dedicated Nazi that Hitler thought he was and he got the bright idea to take the key and disappear, wait until the time was right and then access the three hundred million dollars for himself?”
Stallings considered Tracie’s words. “Let me see if I have this straight. You’re saying that even though Phoenix would have had plans in place for an order of succession in the event of Newmann’s death, the group would also have taken steps to ensure Newmann stayed loyal to the cause, especially in the face of hundreds of millions of dollars in temptation.”
“Well, not necessarily so much to ensure he stayed loyal, but to learn if he was becoming disloyal, and to learn it in enough time to do something about it. And over the last few weeks—with Hitler’s return finally on the horizon—it would only have made sense for Phoenix to keep a close eye on their keymaster.”
“Newmann would have been under surveillance not just by us and the Soviets, but by his own organization as well,” Stallings muttered, thinking out loud. “Christ, how many people were following this guy?”
Tracie ignored the last comment and pushed her point. “It makes sense, don’t you think?”
“Based on what we know, it does,” Stallings conceded.
“And if it was a member of Phoenix keeping tabs on their own man, it would most likely have seemed like business as usual, both to Gruber and to the Soviets. That would explain it escaping Gruber’s attention.”
“So would incompetence.”
Again Tracie ignored her boss’s caustic criticism and said, “It would explain their ability to get a team in place in Wuppertal in enough time to run an op against the Soviet. They didn’t have to fly anyone here and set up shop because they were already here. And it would also explain the existence of a safe house close by, complete with underground escape tunnel. It all fits,” she said. “And there are other factors that point to this being a Phoenix operation.”
“Such as?”
“The guy Gruber shot was old, sir. He was much older than the typical field operative. He was easily in his sixties, roughly the same age as Klaus Newmann.”
“Another old Nazi.”
“Exactly. And there were a number of mistakes made that seasoned operatives simply would not make.”
“Give me an example.”
“The most obvious example would be the fact that the door to the Soviet’s room in the Kaminecke Hotel was left ajar after they killed him. The latch was sticky, and it didn’t catch properly. But the killers were in such a hurry to get out of the hotel with their prize that they didn’t take the time to ensure they covered their tracks in even that most basic manner.”
“Mistakes always happen, Tanner, you know that.”
“Agreed. But it stretches credulity to the breaking point to think an experienced operative would make that kind of mistake. Picture an old Nazi soldier, though, someone committed to a cause but untrained in covert ops, and it becomes much easier to imagine that sort of occurrence happening.”
“Hmph.” Even through the less-than-ideal satellite connection, Stallings’s reluctance to accept Tracie’s theory came through loud and clear. But the fact that the CIA chief hadn’t dismissed it out of hand by now meant that at the very least, he considered it a possibility.
He cleared his throat and said, “I don’t know, Tanner. One geezer tailing another geezer? And killing a trained Soviet field operative?”
“You know as well as I do, sir, how critical the element of surprise is in an operation like the one that went down at the Kaminecke Hotel. Think about it. The Soviet was drunk and he was expecting a hooker to knock on his door, not two men with guns. In that circumstance, it’s not difficult to picture Phoenix successfully retrieving the key.”
“Hmph.” This time Stallings seemed less critical and more considering.
“And as I said before, sir, this also explains everything else. There’s something that’s bothering me, though.”
“Go on.”
“The way the media is reporting the shooting at the Phoenix safe house—”
“Assuming it even is Phoenix.”
“Granted. Assuming it is Phoenix’s safe house. But the way it’s being covered suggests a certain…lack of motivation…of local law enforcement in investigating the murder of one of their citizens.”
“What are you getting at?”
“It’s almost as though someone in the Wuppertal Police Department is trying to divert attention away from all of the oddities surrounding what happened last night. And there were plenty of them.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning it looks to me like someone in a position of authority in the Wuppertal PD is involved.”
“A Phoenix member, covering it up.”
“That’s my suspicion, but I’ll admit, I don’t have a lot to base that opinion on. Mostly it’s just a gut feeling. I get the impression this Phoenix group might be bigger than we realize.”
“It would only make sense. If Phoenix is serious about returning the Nazi Party to prominence in Germany and the world, they’re going to need a lot more than just a handful of aging fanatics. They need younger people ready to step up and do the dirty work. And what better place to have contacts than in the police force?”
Tracie felt a chill as she considered the implications of her theory. If Phoenix could establish a foothold in the Wuppertal Police Department, had they done the same thing in other departments as well? If so, how many?
Just how big was this plot?
Tracie cleared her throat. “Given what we’ve learned so far, sir, I have a question for you.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why don’t we just stake out the hiding place and wait for whoever has the key—whether Phoenix or someone else—to try to extract the Amber Room panels? After all, the key is worthless without the treasure.”
“Because it’s been nearly a half-century since anyone knew for certain the Amber Room’s location, Tanner. I
told you before, this Nazi conspiracy began long before even I was doing fieldwork, and I’ve been around a long time. We’re basing everything on the very occasional surveillance of an old Nazi soldier-turned-industrialist. If we stake out the wrong location, we’ll be stuck with our thumbs up our asses while the Amber Room panels are loaded up on trucks in some other location and driven away into the night.”
Tracie considered the point. “Then why not keep the remaining members of Phoenix under surveillance? If my theory is right, and they’ve regained possession of the key, one of them will lead us right to the Amber Room, and soon.”
“For the very reason we just discussed, Tanner. I’m not convinced we’ve identified all the players. If Phoenix is as big as you seem to think it is—and I don’t necessarily disagree with your assessment, by the way—it’s entirely possible that while we were watching the members we know about, someone else would unlock the storage facility and remove the treasure right out from under our noses, whether it’s where we believe it is or somewhere else.”
Tracie nodded. She had never even heard of Phoenix until forty-eight hours ago, but now the potential size and scope of the group worried her.
“What do you want me to do, sir? Where do we go from here?”
“We can’t take any chances. If there’s any possibility at all that Phoenix will be able to smuggle that treasure out of Wuppertal and use it to fund a Nazi resurgence in Europe or South America, we have no choice. We have to eliminate the organization’s viability, cut the head off the monster so that all the funding in the world won’t make a damn bit of difference.”
“Meaning?” She thought she knew where this conversation was headed and she didn’t like it.
“Remember before you left D.C., I told you the only way a Nazi party could gain traction in today’s world would be through the leadership—even if it was largely symbolic—of Der Führer himself?”
“Of course.” Tracie’s stomach was doing flip-flops and she felt suddenly queasy.
“We have to ensure that can’t happen.”
“And how will we do that?”
“We need to cut off the head of the snake, even if it’s a figurehead.”
Tracie closed her eyes. “And by ‘we’ you mean…”
“That’s right. You’re going to eliminate Adolph Hitler.”
17
November 15, 1987
10:45 a.m.
CIA safe house
Wuppertal, Federal Republic of Germany
Tracie realized she had been holding her breath, and now she exhaled slowly. “I’m going to assassinate Adolph Hitler, forty-some-odd years after the rest of the world thinks he committed suicide in a Berlin bunker?”
“That’s right. Don’t sound so skeptical, Tanner. The man is in his nineties by now. It should be a piece of cake.”
She surprised herself by chuckling. “A piece of cake. Apparently my definition of that expression differs a little from yours.”
“Give me a break, Tanner,” Stallings said. She pictured him shrugging nonchalantly. “You get into his compound, you put a couple of slugs in his skull, you fly home. Simple.”
“If it’s so simple, why wasn’t that the original plan? Why bother with the Amber Room key if you don’t think the Nazis can mount a successful return without their Dear Führer?”
“Do you seriously need to ask that question, Tanner? Jesus, for such a sharp operative, you really can be dense at times.”
“Enlighten me.”
“What part of ‘three hundred million dollars’ do you not understand? Sure, we want to cut this Nazi resurgence off before it can get started, and that is the primary goal of this mission. But if you don’t recognize the significance of nearly a third of a billion dollars making its way into the pockets of a potentially dangerous faction, I’m not sure there’s any way I can explain it to you.”
“In other words, you want to recover the Amber Room so you can keep the treasure—and thus the money—for the United States.”
“In a way. I’ve already explained the danger of allowing that sort of influx of liquidity to replenish the Soviets’ treasury. And none of this is your concern, anyway. I’ve only gotten into it with you so you understand exactly what’s at stake. But your focus must now be on ridding the world of Adolph Hitler, once and for all.”
“When do I leave for Argentina?” Further discussion would be pointless. Aaron Stallings had made up his mind and there would be no changing it, and there would certainly be no declining the mission.
“You’re not going to Argentina.”
“Isn’t that where you said Hitler’s compound was located?”
“Yes. That’s where it was located. But we have received credible intel that says he’s been moved.”
“Credible intel.”
“That’s right.”
“And where is he?”
“West Germany. Not far from your current location.”
“And you’re just telling me this now?”
“It’s only become relevant to your assignment now.”
“You didn’t think it was relevant to my assignment before to know that the once and future leader of the Nazi Party had been relocated here? You didn’t consider it an indication of how close Phoenix feels they are to setting their plans in motion? You didn’t think—”
“That’s enough, Tanner. You’re getting dangerously close to insubordination. Again. You’ve been down this road before and I think we both know how it will turn out if you continue.”
“Excuse me, Sir, but how was I supposed to do my job without having access to all of the intel?”
“The proximity of Hitler to Wuppertal was irrelevant to your assignment, which was to retrieve the Amber Room key from the Soviet operative. It is only due to your failure at completing that assignment that this new mission has become necessary.”
“But, Sir, the fact that Adolph Hitler has been moved here has all kinds of ramifications. It lends real credence to the notion that Phoenix itself was behind the assassination of the Soviet operative and the retrieval of the key. It lends credence also to the theory that someone in the Wuppertal Police Department—maybe more than just one member, maybe a lot more—is in league with the group and is actively working toward fulfilling their goals. Hell, it makes me think Phoenix may not just consist of a handful of aging Nazi soldiers. It makes me believe those elderly zealots might be just the tip of the iceberg. Who knows how big this group might actually be, or how many members they might have?”
“Are you done, Tanner? Finished ranting yet?”
She opened her mouth to tell him…what?
She had already registered her outrage and it had gotten her nowhere. The truth was, she couldn’t even really claim to be surprised by Aaron Stallings’s lack of transparency regarding her mission. This wasn’t the first time she had been misled by the CIA chief and, she had to admit to herself, it would likely not be the last. He was a master manipulator, a man with decades of experience moving pieces around his own personal international intelligence chessboard, and nothing she could say at this moment, over a secure satellite connection, would change the current situation.
So she closed her mouth, forced herself to step back from the edge and cool down. The silence on the line told her Stallings knew exactly what she was working through and was only too happy to wait while she did so.
“Yes, I’m finished,” she finally said. “For now.”
“Good. Because the clock is ticking, and as lovely as our little chat has been, we’re no closer to stopping Phoenix now than we were before your call. Hell, we’re no closer than we were before you left Washington. You have your assignment. I suggest you get started on it.”
He gave her the precise location of the Phoenix compound—it was less than ten miles from Wuppertal—and then said, “Maybe the next time we talk, you’ll be able to tell me you were actually successful.”
Tracie’s anger returned in an instant. She started to tell the C
IA director what he could do with his little digs and insults, but it was too late.
The line was dead.
Stallings was gone.
18
November 18, 1987
2:30 p.m.
Langenberg, Federal Republic of Germany
Tracie stood just inside the tree line, waiting. The road leading to the Phoenix compound—where the elderly Adolph Hitler supposedly now resided, poised to lead a Nazi resurgence—was narrow, quiet, barely wide enough to accommodate two cars passing in opposite directions. The compound had been constructed in a remote section of wilderness, hacked out of the forest miles away from civilization in any direction.
The location made sense as a base for neo-Nazi activity, but it worked to Tracie’s advantage as well. Because for her plan to have any chance of succeeding there would have to be no witnesses to what was going to happen next.
Despite Aaron Stallings’s insistence she move against Hitler immediately, she had taken two full days and part of a third to accomplish at least a modicum of surveillance. Although accustomed by now to undertaking assignments with little preplanning and even less backup—it was an unfortunate function of her role as the CIA director’s one-person black ops team—she knew she would need every last insight she could muster into Phoenix’s operation if she expected to have any chance of completing her mission.
Any chance of surviving.
So following the frustration of her conversation with Stallings two and a half days ago, she rounded up Gruber and some supplies and they set off for the Phoenix compound, maintaining as close to round-the-clock surveillance as two operatives could reasonably muster.
Now, she checked her watch and fidgeted, trying to force herself to stay calm. The truck she was waiting for should have been here by now. Maybe it wasn’t scheduled to come today. It had rolled past this very spot en route to the compound each of the last two days at exactly this time, but there was no reason to feel confident it was an everyday thing.
Tracie Tanner Thrillers Box Set Page 83
