Accidental Nazi

by Ward Wagher

  Rainer drove the Opel on to the tarmac and parked near the Condor. Schloss was in the back seat, with his head leaned back, and eyes closed.

  “Herr Partieleiter, the aircraft is not quite ready,” Rainer said.

  “I will wait here,” Schloss replied.

  “Are you sure you are up to the trip, Mein Herr?”

  “We've had this discussion already, Karl. I can sleep on the plane. It's a seven-hour trip.”

  “But Dr. Kranz feels you are not ready to travel.”

  Schloss opened his eyes. “Don't make me get out of this car, Rainer.”

  Rainer's mouth snapped shut. He immediately turned and marched over towards the airliner.

  “Colonel Hauser, why are we delayed?”

  The pilot turned. “Ah, Herr Rainer. The copilot was testing the controls and there seemed to be some binding in the elevator linkage. I thought it wise to investigate further.”

  “Quite so,” Rainer agreed. “Has the other passenger arrived yet?”

  “Yes. Herr Schreiber is already aboard.”

  “I shall go speak to him, if that is all right with you.”

  “Of course, Herr Rainer.”

  Rainer walked over to the ladder attached to the door in the side of the airliner. Just as he set his foot into the first rung of the ladder a florid faced mechanic came to the hatch.

  “Out! Stay away from the airplane. Everybody off the plane.”

  “What?” Rainer called. “Are you all right?”

  “No, Herr Rainer. I think there is a bomb aboard.”

  Almost immediately Peter brushed past the mechanic and leaped to the ground, pushing Rainer out of the way.

  “We need to get away from the plane,” he shouted.

  “Over to the car, there,” Rainer pointed.

  Schreiber trotted over to the Opel. Rainer followed more sedately. As he walked, the pilot approached him.

  “Herr Rainer, you should pull the Partieleiter's car away from the aircraft. If there is truly a bomb aboard, you do not want to be close.”

  “Of course,” Rainer said. “Into the car, Peter.”

  Schloss had drifted off as he sat in the back of the car. He awakened when Schreiber climbed into the back seat beside him.

  “What's going on?”

  “The mechanic thinks he found a bomb on the airplane.”

  Schloss leaned back and put his hand over his forehead. He swore softly. “Will this never end?”

  He looked up as Rainer started the engine. “Where are we going?”

  “The Colonel suggested we were too close to the aircraft, Herr Partieleiter.”

  “Of course. That makes sense. Pull over to where we can park in the shade.”

  “Who wants us dead, Hennie?” Schreiber asked.

  Schloss still leaned his head against the seat back and had his eyes closed. Rainer pulled the car into the shade along the side of the terminal and got out. After the door closed Schloss spoke.

  “I think it has got to be Himmler, or somebody in the SS. Rainer seems to have neutralized any enemies I have in the party itself. I am not sensing anything from either Goering or Ribbentrop.”

  “What about Goebbels?”

  “Goebbels is Himmler's creature,” Schloss said. “His power base does not include anyone who can take direct action. I think.”

  “I worry about Ribbentrop. He was very unhappy about not getting to take this trip.”

  “The Foreign Minister's unhappiness is something I can take in stride,” Schloss said. “Himmler and Goering hate him. He is safest when he is doing exactly as he is told and I think he knows that.”

  “The Molotov pact?” Schreiber asked.

  “Exactly, Peter. He had a clearly defined mission and he carried that off well. But you saw the mess he made in England before the war.”

  “I did not see it directly. I was in Argentina, remember. I heard some stories, however.” Schreiber had a crooked smile. “He did not bring glory to the Reich when he was in England.”

  “Exactly.” Schloss sighed again and leaned his head back. “Goering thinks he's a jumped up carpet merchant.”

  “Goering is right. Hennie, should you really be going on this trip? You are not well.”

  “I will sleep on the plane, Peter. When we get to Lisbon I will go to the hotel and go to bed. You and I will consult in-between your meetings with the Americans. We need leadership there to make decisions. Everyone else is too recognizable.”

  “You do keep a low profile.”

  “And there's a reason for that. This trip is one of those reasons.”

  “I worry the Portuguese will cause an incident and arrest you or something. They are close to the English.”

  “I'm hoping to slip in and out without them being any the wiser,” Schloss said. “This is not helping things, though.” And he waved his hand towards the airplane.

  “And you think your passport will fool them, Herr Eisengruber?” Schreiber was being very direct.

  “Canaris has let them know we are visiting Lisbon to talk to the Americans. They will choose to be fooled.”

  Admiral Wilhelm Canaris was the head of the Abwehr, the German foreign intelligence agency. In Schloss's other world, Canaris had plotted against the Nazis all during the war and was later executed for treason.

  “Can you trust Canaris?” Schreiber asked.

  “Can we trust anyone, Peter? We must always be very careful.”

  “And if the Portuguese turn you over to the English?”

  “That would cause a major diplomatic incident, and they have a lot of reasons not to anger us right now.”

  “Here comes our pilot,” Schreiber said.

  Rainer and Colonel Hauser were walking over to the car.

  “I suppose I should act presentably,” Schloss said as he pulled the door handle to get out of the car.

  “I am very sorry about this, Herr Partieleiter,” the pilot said. “I cannot believe we allowed this to happen.”

  “So it was a bomb?”

  “Yes, Mein Herr. It was tied to the altimeter so that it would go off at about three thousand meters. Whoever placed it was careless and it interfered with the control cables.”

  “I believe we should thank your copilot for being so careful to check the controls this morning.”

  “Are you a religious man, Herr Partielieter?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “I said a prayer of thanks to God this morning that Stepan was so careful. And I also must apologize, because I am going to down-check the airplane.”

  Schloss smiled slightly. “No need to apologize, Colonel. I am very happy to have missed that particular excitement this morning.”

  “But it will delay your trip.”

  Schloss looked around the airport. “Isn't Himmler's airplane there?”

  “In the hangar, there? Yes, Herr Partieleiter,” Hauser said. “We could take that, I suppose,” Schloss said.

  The colonel blanched. “Uh... Herr Partieleiter, I do not have the authority to requisition the Reichsprotektor's airplane.”

  “Is there a telephone around here I can use without the whole world seeing me?”

  “In the hangar.”

  “Let's go,” Schloss said. “Ride with us, please, Colonel.”

  Rainer nodded to one of the guards, and pointed to the hangar. The four men climbed into the Opel and drove across to the other side of the airport to the hangar controlled by the SS. The other two cars swung in front and behind Schloss's car. The guards looked wary as they saw the caravan approaching.

  Schloss stepped out of the car and walked over to the guard at the door. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Yes, Herr Partieleiter.”

  “I need to use your telephone. In privacy.”

  “At once, Herr Partieleiter.”

  Schloss followed the guard through the side door into the hanger, his guards following. Schloss was amused at the reaction of the SS guards. He could almost see the hair standing u
p on the backs of their necks. As they walked through the hangar he noted Himmler's Condor in the gloom. He stepped into the office and pointed to the corporal at the desk.

  “Call the Reichsprotektor for me.”

  A few minutes later Himmler came on the line and the corporal handed the phone to Schloss.

  “Good morning, Herr Reichsprotektor.”

  “I thought you were on your way to Lisbon,” Himmler said without preamble.

  “The airplane is broken. I wonder if we might borrow yours?”

  Himmler was quiet. Schloss waited. Sometimes it is best to say nothing, he thought to himself.

  “I was supposed to travel to Leipzig today,” Himmler said. “However I am forced to deal with Bonhoeffer and those scoundrels of the so-called confessing church.”

  “I had not heard of that,” Schloss said.

  “They have been nothing but trouble.” Himmler hesitated for a moment. “Very well. Take my airplane. We do not want to keep the Americans waiting.”

  “Thank you, Herr Partieleiter.”

  “Let me talk to the corporal.”

  A short while later the SS crew rolled out Himmler's Condor and Schloss's flight crew began inspecting it. Himmler's pilot was unhappy to allow someone else to fly his airplane, but there was little he could do about it. An hour later they were in the air. Schloss's regret was that because Peter was with him, he couldn't make a side trip to Munich to see Gisela.

  He leaned back in his seat and drifted off to sleep. Schreiber watched him for a bit and then began reading from the stack of papers he had brought with him. It was going to be a long flight.

  As the Condor leveled out at altitude the copilot looked over at Hauser. “It appears we are not going to die today, Colonel.”

  “Not immediately, anyway,” the pilot said. “I suspect Himmler would not want to put a bomb in his own airplane.”

  The copilot stared at him for a few moments, then looked back at the instruments and out the windshield. The pilot grinned at him.

  “What's the matter, Stepan? You seem shocked.”

  “I was shocked when the mechanic found the bomb, Colonel. I suppose after that, nothing should surprise me.”

  “I am very glad you are so careful. You saved a lot of lives this morning.”

  “No, Colonel, whoever placed that bomb was careless. We were very, very lucky.”

  “Stepan, there is no such thing as luck. You might call it fate. I choose to believe in God. You were meant to discover the problem. We were not supposed to crash today. That man back there is going to save Germany from ruin.”

  “How can you say that?”

  Hauser shrugged. “You have noticed Herr Schloss is different from the rest of those Nazi swine.”

  The copilot nodded.

  “I think God has His hand on Herr Schloss.”

  “Whatever you say, Colonel,” the copilot answered.

  # # #

  August 13, 1941; 10 AM

  Abwehr Headquarters, Tirpitzufer, Berlin

  Commander Gerhard Maurer stepped quietly into the office and waited for his boss to notice him. Three minutes later Admiral Wilhelm Canaris looked up.

  “What is it Gerhard?”

  “Schloss is on his way to Lisbon.”

  “Thank you. Anything further?”

  “He is flying the Reichsprotektor's airplane.”

  Canaris raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”

  “Schloss's pilot found a bomb on his plane.”

  Canaris sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair. He stared at his desk as he thought. Maurer had learned not to interrupt Canaris with what he called unnecessary chatter. Finally, he looked up at the Commander.

  “Very well, Commander. Keep me informed.”

  “Yes, Herr Admiral.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  August 13, 1941; 5 PM

  4,000 meters over Western Europe

  The throbbing drone of the four BMW Bramo radial engines carried Schloss along in deep sleep as the Focke-Wulf Condor roamed the European skies. He occasionally drifted towards wakefulness, but the background noise lulled him and he floated in harmony with the airplane. The slight change woke him up as the big plane began its let down towards Portugal's capital.

  Schreiber looked over at him as he stretched. “I had to keep checking to make sure you were still breathing.”

  “A bit of advice Peter. Never have an infected jaw.” Schloss straightened in the seat and looked out the window. “That being said, that was a lovely bit of sleep. I hope I will be able to sleep tonight.”

  “Will our friends be able to stay awake?” Schreiber asked, nodding at the two party members in the rear of the plane who were the only guards Schloss would allow on this trip.

  “They are afraid of Rainer,” Schloss said. “He warned them severely before we embarked. He's worse than an old woman.”

  “Worse than Frau Marsden?”

  Schloss laughed. “That would be hard to say. They are cut from the same cloth, those two.”

  “I don't know,” the other man said. “I sometimes think Frau Marsden can read minds. She is almost spooky at times.”

  Schloss nodded. “My experiences have been similar. I have yet to discern how she figures out the things she does. She has actually frightened me on several occasions.”

  Peter smiled. “I did not think you were afraid of anything.”

  Schloss raised an eyebrow. “It's fine with me if you want to keep pretending that.”

  “Where did Mrs. Marsden come from?” Peter asked.

  “You know; I am not entirely sure. A friend of a friend. Recommended to Hannelore. I came home one day and there she was. As to how?” And he shrugged.

  “Or how she has managed to become the family matriarch. You've seen how attached Anna-Lisa has become to her. She even has Renate under her spell.”

  “Considering her talents, I am glad she is helping us.”

  “I think her loyalty to the family is unquestioned,” Peter said.

  “That's probably the main reason I have not sent her packing,” Schloss said. “The children have had a brutal summer, Anna-Lisa in particular. If Frau Marsden provides an anchor for them, I am loath to disturb it.”

  “If something good could be said to come from a horrible situation, it has been good to see you getting close to your son.”

  “Hans-Friedrich has given me joy. I guess after Hannelore I remembered my responsibilities. It doesn't say much for me, unfortunately.”

  “Oh, nonsense, Hennie,” Schrieber said. “I have never seen you do any less than your duty. And Hans-Friedrich is much the same as you.”

  “The boy surprises me. He is very perceptive.”

  “As are you, Hennie. And that perceptiveness has served you well.”

  Schloss shrugged and looked out the window again. Ahead of the airplane and angling to the right he could see the coast and the reflection of the sun off the Atlantic Ocean. He and Trudy had spent a weekend in Lisbon a few years previously in his other life. He was curious to see what the wartime city looked like. Puffy cumulus clouds marched in ranks across the late summer sky as the Condor descended.

  “I'm not quite sure how to approach this, Hennie,” Schreiber continued. Schloss looked over as the other man hesitated.

  “From the look on your face, Peter, I'm not quite sure I want to hear this.”

  Schreiber chuckled briefly. “And you always assume the worst.”

  “Shouldn't I?”

  “It's just that Renate asked me to say something.”

  “In that case, since my sister is apparently getting into her own mother hen mood, perhaps you should just blurt it out,” Schloss said caustically.

  “Let us say that there would be no great objection if you were to... formalize an agreement with Frau Badhoff.”

  “Mein Gott!” Schloss exploded. “Does the whole world know about this? It doesn't seem like I can keep anything private.”

  “It's kind of difficult whe
n the whole family knows her, Hennie.”

  “All right, so how did you find out?”

  “Renate, of course,” Peter said. “She corresponds regularly with Frau Badhoff. She figured it out.”

  “I should've known. Tell me, Peter, did I warn you about Renate?”

  Schreiber laughed. “Of course you did. And being completely smitten with her, I ignored you and married her anyway.”

  “To your everlasting regret,” Schloss said.

  “Oh no. I am still as enthralled with her as the day I married her.”

  “Then enjoy her while you can,” Schloss said. “The days will fly past.”

  Schreiber leaned across the aisle and placed his hand on Schloss's shoulder. “Have I told you, Heinrich, how sorry I am about Hannelore? We all miss her.”

  She must have been a special lady, Schloss thought. I see the grief in my family and realize that.

  “And now you are telling me to go ahead and remarry,” Schloss said, the sarcasm evident.

  “I think Hannelore would be pleased. They were friends too, you know.”

  “Listen Peter, I appreciate your concern. Let's just let things take their own course. I have to get out of the shadows in my life before I can make rational decisions in that regard.”

  “I understand,” Schreiber said. “You have to deal with grief. Life goes on. The pain is unbearable at first, but time gives you a distance from it.”

  Somehow I don't think you have the slightest idea, Schloss thought unkindly.

  Schloss had noticed the wing flaps creeping downward periodically. Now he saw the landing gear descending from beneath the wings. The cabin steward worked his way down the center of the cabin between the rows of seats to check to make sure they had their seatbelts fastened.

  “We will be on the ground shortly,” the steward said.

  One way or another, Schloss thought. The sight of Hitler’s plane cartwheeling across the landing strip was burned in his memory.

  Colonel Hauser brought the plane in smoothly and the passengers barely felt the wheels kiss the ground. As they taxied to the indicated parking area on the tarmac, Schloss studied the airport through the windows. It looked as though there were a dozen Douglas Dakotas on the tarmac with British, Portuguese and Spanish colors. Sprinkled among them were several JU 52's, and an assortment of other airplanes.