The Honor of Spies

by W. E. B. Griffin; William E. Butterworth; IV

  "Anyway, he said that we have to make sure relatively senior officers, military and especially in the party, find refuge in South America, and that they have the funds to keep National Socialism alive and bring it back. That I should consider it a high priority."

  "My God!"

  "I told him things were going along according to plan, and he gave me a look that made me think he knew about the Froggers, et cetera. But then he said, 'I'm going to send for Canaris. He's reliable, he knows Argentina, and I don't think he's playing an active enough role in Operation Phoenix.'"

  Canaris did not respond.

  "And then he left. I thought I should tell you before you go in there. We're going to have to be very careful, Canaris."

  "I understand. Thank you."

  "You better get in there. I know he's waiting for you."

  Canaris nodded, then walked to the door and pulled it open.

  "Shall I announce you, Herr Admiral?" the hauptsturmfuhrer at the door of what Canaris thought of as "the map room" asked.

  "That won't be necessary. The Fuhrer sent for me."

  The hauptsturmfuhrer pulled open the door. Canaris, with von und zu Waching and Gehlen on his heels, walked in.

  Adolf Hitler--surprising Canaris not at all--was bent over a large, map-covered table. He was wearing rather ugly eyeglasses. His military staff, headed by Generalfeldmarschall Wilhelm Keitel, plus all the people Canaris expected to be there, including Himmler and Goebbels, were standing in a rough half-circle at the table. Behind them, against the wall, were lesser lights, among them Generalleutnant von Wachtstein and Luftwaffe General Kurt Student.

  Canaris had expected to see von Wachtstein, but he wondered what Student was doing here; an advocate of "vertical envelopment," Student had lost favor with Hitler after his Fallschirmjager troops not only hadn't easily captured Crete when they had parachuted onto it, but had suffered severe casualties.

  The only ones who acknowledged Canaris, and that with a just-perceptible nod, were Keitel and Grand Admiral Karl Donitz, the commander in chief of the navy. The others looked at him as if they had never seen him before.

  After perhaps thirty seconds, Hitler looked up at Canaris, who rendered another sloppy salute and said, "My Fuhrer."

  Von und zu Waching and Gehlen stood to attention.

  Hitler pointed at Gehlen.

  "Who is this officer?"

  "Oberstleutnant Gehlen, Reinhard, my Fuhrer," Canaris said. "The senior intelligence officer of the OKH."

  "And the oberstleutnant is here why?"

  "I thought you might wish to receive him, my Fuhrer. He returned from Russia only last night."

  Hitler started to walk around the table.

  "Very thoughtful of you, Admiral," he said. "But unnecessary. Bad news travels very fast. I have already learned of the daily disaster there. And the daily disaster here in Germany."

  He was now standing in front of Gehlen.

  "Colonel, how good of you to come," he said, putting out his hand and oozing charm. "I am always delighted to meet a fighting soldier; one doesn't see many of them around here."

  He patted Gehlen's arm, then turned to Canaris.

  "What I hoped the admiral could tell me is the present location of Benito Mussolini. But before we get into that, I want to hear the admiral's sage evaluation of the death of General Jeschonnek."

  "My Fuhrer, I was very saddened to hear of General Jeschonnek's death."

  "I asked, Admiral, for your evaluation of the effect of his death on Germany, not its effect on you."

  Canaris suddenly realized that Hermann Goring, head of the Luftwaffe, was not in the room.

  I should have seen that sooner.

  "My Fuhrer, as I understand the situation--and I don't know much; it only happened last midnight--General Jeschonnek took his life because he was in a state of depression and temporarily bereft of his senses. Apparently he felt that he had failed--the Luftwaffe had failed--to adequately protect Germany from Allied air raids."

  "As it has," Hitler said. "But this 'failure,' as you so delicately put it, has not caused Reichsmarschall Goring to become depressed--to blow his brains out--and I would say, Admiral, wouldn't you, that the reichsmarschall is at least as responsible for the Luftwaffe's failure as was General Jeschonnek?"

  "My Fuhrer, I don't pretend to understand suicide. My feeling is that men have different breaking points. I can suggest only that General Jeschonnek reached his when he realized what had happened."

  "Germany cannot afford to have its generals blowing their brains out every time they suffer a temporary setback," Hitler said bitterly.

  Hitler glared at him for a long moment, during which Canaris had decided it was his time to be on the receiving end of one of Hitler's tyrannical rages.

  "Dr. Goebbels suggests that we report that General Jeschonnek met his end, quote, test-flying a new fighter plane, end quote," Hitler said, "and that he be buried, with all the attendant publicity, with full military honors. I have mixed feelings. I wonder if Jeschonnek didn't take the coward's way out."

  He looked at Canaris, waiting for him to reply.

  "My Fuhrer, I am wholly unqualified to offer an opinion about anything Dr. Goebbels says vis-a-vis a delicate situation like this one."

  Hitler stared at him with icy eyes.

  Here it comes. I am about to be dressed down by the Austrian corporal in front of the leadership--less Goring, of course--of the Thousand-Year Reich.

  It didn't.

  "Where, in your opinion, Admiral, is Benito Mussolini?" Hitler asked.

  My God, where did that question come from?

  On 25 July, Italian king Victor Emmanuel had stripped Italian fascist dictator Benito Mussolini of his power and arrested him. Nine days later, a representative of Marshal Badoglio, who had replaced Mussolini, secretly surrendered Italy unconditionally to a representative of General Dwight D. Eisenhower, the Supreme Allied Commander. The surrender would not be made public for weeks, on 8 September 1943.

  "On the island of Ponza, my Fuhrer."

  "Where?"

  "On the island of Ponza, my Fuhrer," Canaris repeated. He pointed at the map-strewn table. "May I?"

  "Please do," Hitler said.

  Canaris went to the table, found the map he needed, and pointed his index finger at a cluster of islands in the Tyrrhenian Sea off the west coast of Italy.

  "On Ponza, the larger island, my Fuhrer," Canaris said.

  "Himmler, would you take a look at this, please?" Hitler asked.

  Heinrich Himmler walked quickly to the table.

  "That is where Admiral Canaris tells me Mussolini is," Hitler said. "It is not where you told me he is. I wonder which of you is right."

  Himmler said firmly: "Captain Skorzeny reported within the last forty-eight hours, my Fuhrer, that Il Duce is being held in the Campo Imperatore Hotel in Abruzzi, in the Apennine Mountains."

  "Admiral?" Hitler asked very softly.

  "I have a man in the Italian marines who are guarding Il Duce, my Fuhrer," Canaris said. "In his daily report--as of four this morning, Mussolini is on Ponza."

  "Your man sends you a daily report on Il Duce's whereabouts?" Hitler asked.

  "Yes, my Fuhrer. He has previously reported that Mussolini will be taken--as soon as safe travel can be arranged--to the Campo Imperatore Hotel."

  "Tell the admiral, Himmler, who Hauptmann Skorzeny is," Hitler said softly.

  "SS-Hauptmann Otto Skorzeny is something of a legend within the Waffen-SS, Canaris. I assigned him--as the best man for the job available to me--to track Il Duce when the Italians betrayed us and Mussolini was arrested. I can't believe he made a mistake like this."

  "I can," Hitler said. "Which leaves us with something of an administrative problem." He fixed his eyes on Canaris. "You will learn, Admiral, if you already haven't, that the reward for someone who doesn't make mistakes is that other onerous chores are soon added to what chores he is already bearing by those who do make mistakes."

&n
bsp; Canaris thought: Someone like yourself, you mean? Who is incapable of making a mistake, and is thus doomed to correct the errors of others?

  Hitler looked around at the other senior officers who were still standing in a rough semicircle behind him. He didn't see what he was looking for, and he turned his attention to the officers lined up against the wall.

  "General von Wachtstein, would you be good enough to join us?"

  Von Wachtstein walked over to Hitler, who went on:

  "General, Reichsprotektor Himmler and Admiral Canaris are about to return to Berlin, where, together with General Student, they will replan and execute the liberation of Il Duce from his captors. Replanning is necessary because if the original plan--General Student's Fallschirmjagers taking the Campo Imperatore Hotel in Abruzzi with irresistible force--had been executed, Il Duce would not have been there.

  "A little mistake on the part of one of the Reichsprotektor's men. Or perhaps on the part of the Reichsprotektor himself; he didn't consider it necessary to consult with the chief of Abwehr intelligence vis-a-vis the actual location of Il Duce. Why should he? The SS is perfect and knows everything.

  "Your role in this, General von Wachtstein, is to witness the discussions between these gentlemen and, when they have made any decision at all, to relay that decision to me so that I will have the chance to stop any blunders before they occur. Telephone each decision these gentlemen reach to Obersturmfuhrer Gunsche, who will pass it to me. Any questions?"

  "No, my Fuhrer," von Wachtstein said.

  "That will be all, gentlemen," Hitler said.

  And then he walked to Gehlen.

  "I very much appreciate the good work Abwehr Ost has been doing, Herr Oberstleutnant. Please convey my compliments to your associates when you return to the east."

  "Jawohl, my Fuhrer. Thank you, my Fuhrer."

  Hitler walked back to the map-covered table and leaned over it.

  One by one, Himmler, von Wachtstein, Student, Canaris, von und zu Waching, and Gehlen walked to the door, gave the Nazi salute, and left. Nobody seemed to notice.

  [THREE]

  Tempelhof Airfield

  Berlin, Germany

  1605 19 August 1943

  Himmler said virtually nothing to anyone on the flight to Berlin.

  Canaris wondered if Himmler really was fascinated with the contents of his briefcase, or whether he was angry with him for making him look like a fool with Hitler.

  Canaris went over what had happened at Wolfsschanze several times in his mind. With the exception of that very long three or four seconds during which he felt sure he was about to feel Hitler's often irrational rage, everything had gone well.

  And Hitler hadn't mentioned Operation Phoenix at all. Canaris wondered if Bormann had told Himmler about that encounter with the Bavarian corporal.

  On reflection, Canaris didn't think he was going to get into any difficulty about the operation to rescue Mussolini; his only contribution to that was going to be providing the intelligence regarding the deposed Italian dictator's location. And he was sure he knew. His man with Il Duce was solid as a rock.

  As the Heinkel taxied up to the curved Tempelhof terminal building, Canaris saw that a small convoy of cars was waiting for them.

  Himmler's first deputy adjutant--SS-Brigadefuhrer Ritter Manfred von Deitzberg, a tall, slim, blond, forty-two-year-old Westphalian--was standing beside the lead car, an enormous Mercedes-Benz convertible sedan that carried on its right front fender the metal flag of the Reichsfuhrer-SS.

  Canaris's own car, a much smaller Mercedes that carried no indication of whom it would carry, was immediately behind that, and then came slightly larger cars for Generals Student and von Wachtstein, each equipped with the metal flag appropriate to their rank.

  Himmler exercised his right to be the first off the airplane. A moment later, Canaris followed him. He was surprised to see that Himmler was waiting for him.

  "I have been thinking, Canaris," he said. "Not only do I have a full plate, as I'm sure you understand, but I'm a policeman, not a military man."

  He waited for Canaris to respond. He didn't.

  After a moment, Himmler went on: "Von Deitzberg, on the other hand, was a soldier. What I'm thinking is that I will take von Deitzberg with me now, tell him what happened at Wolfsschanze, then send him to you and Student and von Wachtstein so that you can work out what has to be done between you. Where will you be, at your office?"

  The Reichsfuhrer-SS has apparently decided that if something else goes wrong with this absurd mission to rescue Il Duce, it won't be his fault. If he can blame whatever goes wrong on me, fine.

  That will teach me it is not wise to have more accurate intelligence than he does. And if he can't blame me, he'll blame von Deitzberg.

  "I thought I would take General Student and General von Wachtstein to my house for an early dinner with Gehlen. We missed lunch at Wolfsschanze."

  "Well, there is a silver lining in every black cloud, isn't there?" Himmler said, smiling as he made a little joke. The meals served at Wolfsschanze were standard army field rations, invariably bland and unappetizing. It was the Fuhrer's idea, intended to remind all the senior officers of the troops in the field.

  Himmler rarely made little jokes, and when he smiled he reminded Canaris of a funeral director who had just sold an impoverished widow the most expensive coffin he had for sale.

  "I think I should take Student with me," Himmler went on. "He can tell von Deitzberg what he has planned. And then all of you can get together first thing in the morning?"

  That wasn't a question. That's what he wants done.

  "Would half past seven at my office be too early for General Student, do you think, Herr Reichsfuhrer? I like to get to the office early."

  "I'll have him there," Himmler said. "And if von Deitzberg can find him for me, I'll have Hauptsturmfuhrer Skorzeny there, too."

  "Fine," Canaris said.

  Skorzeny, you are about to find out that Himmler's rages, while not quite as loud and long-lasting as those of the Fuhrer, are nearly as devastating.

  Himmler did not like being humiliated before the Fuhrer because you provided him with inaccurate intelligence.

  Himmler gave a Nazi salute about as sloppy as Canaris usually gave. It was returned as sloppily by Canaris, and very crisply by everyone else.

  Then Himmler got into the enormous Mercedes. Von Deitzberg got in beside him. General Student walked to the Luftwaffe Mercedes sedan, got in, and it pulled out of line and followed Himmler's car.

  "General von Wachtstein," Canaris said, "I was just thinking, since we will have to be at my office early in the morning, that what we should do is let your car go, and you can come spend the night at my house."

  "I would hate to be an imposition, Herr Admiral."

  "Not at all. My wife is visiting her family in Bremen."

  Actually, she's in Westertede, which I devoutly hope is far enough from Bremen so that it won't be bombed even by mistake by the B-17s of the Eighth Air Force.

  "In that case, Herr Admiral, I think accepting your kind invitation would be a good idea."

  [FOUR]

  357 Roonstrasse, Zehlendorf

  Berlin, Germany

  1605 19 August 1943

  En route from the airfield, there was a good deal of evidence of the efficacy of the daily--by the U.S. Eighth Air Force--and nightly--by the Royal Air Force--bombing of Berlin. But once the suburb of Zehlendorf was reached there was virtually no sign of the war except the absence of streetlights and lights in windows.

  There were two civilian policemen on the street in front of Canaris's house, and Canaris knew there was another patrolling the alley and gardens behind it.

  One of the policemen checked the identity cards of everyone in Canaris's Mercedes, then signaled to the other policeman to open the gate.

  The driver stopped the car under a portico on the left side of the house, then hurried to open the rear passenger door on the other side before Canaris coul
d do so himself. He failed.

  Admiral Canaris walked to a door, which opened just before he got there. General von Wachtstein, Oberstleutnant Gehlen, and Fregattenkapitan von und zu Waching followed him into the house.

  The door was closed, and the lights in the foyer came on.

  They now saw who had opened and closed the door: a burly man in his sixties. He had closely cropped gray hair and wore a white cotton jacket--and he suddenly said, "Shit! I forgot Max."

  The lights went off. The door was opened, and the driver of the car came into the room. The door was closed, and the lights went on again.

  "Gentlemen, this is Egon, who was chief of the boat when I commanded U-201 in the first war," Canaris said, motioning toward the burly one. "And this is Max, who was my chief bosun when I commanded the Schlesien. They take care of me."

  He pointed at the officers with him and identified them.

  "Egon, see that no one can hear what's said in the living room," Canaris said.

  "I did that when they called and said send the car," Egon said.

  "And then, since we have all earned it, bring us something--something hard--to drink in there. And when you've done that, get us something to eat. We missed lunch at Wolfsschanze."

  "I can have sauerbraten, potatoes, and carrots in thirty minutes."

  "That sounds fine," Canaris said, then waved the men with him ahead of him into the living room.

  Everybody took seats in an assortment of armchairs. Max, now wearing a white cotton steward's jacket, came in carrying a large tray heavy with glasses, an ice bucket, a siphon bottle, and two bottles of Johnnie Walker Black Label scotch whisky. He set it on a table.

  "I regret I am out of schnapps," Canaris said. "This decadent English swill will have to do."

  A faint smile flickered across von Wachtstein's lips.

  "We can make our own drinks, Max," Canaris said. "Go help Egon burn the sauerbraten."

  Max nodded his acceptance of the order.

  Canaris waited until he had left the living room and had closed the door behind him, then said: "So far as Max and Egon are concerned: They hear more than they should about things that should be of no concern to them. That's not a problem, as I trust them with my life. But I generally make an effort to ensure they don't hear anything more than they have to.