"Do you really believe that, Allen?"
"I get paid not to believe that, but I have to admit, nonetheless, that coincidences do occur." Another sip of scotch. "But I have to rule out all the other possibilities first."
"So, where does that leave you?"
"I can see three, maybe four players that we have to be concerned about. The two generals could be working together, and if that's true, and they're keeping it from us, that could only mean we wouldn't like what they're doing. They could be trying to play us, either for their own benefit —— that is money and escape —— or for the benefit of Hitler and the party. Doesn't quite make sense, though, since Schroeder already knows where the plutonium is located and I'm sure he could find a buyer or broker on his own if that's what he wanted, and with enough money he could slip away from the allies. Wouldn't need Waldman, or us for that matter.
"The next scenario involves Waldman either trying to double cross Schroeder if they're working together, or, if they're not, trying to pull a snatch of the plutonium and run his own game."
"That would make more sense to me," Mary said, "because it might explain a connection to Templeton, although I don't like to think of that as a possibility."
"I don't either, but it wouldn't be the first time that something like that happened. And you're right about it explaining a connection. It's unlikely that Waldman knows where the Plutonium is; but Schroeder does, and he's being run by Julian."
"Other than what I told you I saw that day, is there anything at all to implicate Julian?"
"Nothing. But we've never looked." He finished the remainder of his drink in one swig. "Now I have to and it doesn't make me happy." Dulles stood and paced back and forth a few times, talking as he walked, a sign that Mary recognized as indicating stress, something that was infrequently manifested by such a man as Allen Dulles. "If," and he emphasized the first word, "Julian is involved, where does that leave Mallory? For that matter, where, actually, is Mallory? Is he in on it, too? And even more importantly, just what is this 'it'?"
"You've no idea where Kent's gotten to?"
"No, not really. Just disappeared one day. Julian said he bought a ticket to Lugano but we don't know that he actually used it. Whatever happened, I don't think Julian planned it; it screams for attention and that's something any good agent wants to avoid. Kent may have been a willing participant or merely stumbled onto something that put him in harm's way. In either case, it wasn't orchestrated by Julian. He would have had a cover story planned in advance to explain the absence. He knew that anything he fabricated after the fact would throw even more suspicion on himself."
"So, everything is still pretty circumstantial, and all the potential links are tenuous."
"At best. In the morning I'll have to pile more work on Bill. He's really a smart fellow and a good man; if he was my private employee I'd give him a raise. Government workers, including those who work for the OSS, don't earn very much. I think it would be worthwhile to look into the finances of both Mr. Templeton and Mr. Mallory, as well as their travel history while stationed here."
Information began filtering in forty-eight hours later, surprisingly soon considering all that was happening as the allies consolidated their advance into the Third Reich. Bill took the packet from the courier and put aside all his other work, knowing that Dulles would want answers as quickly as possible, for although his boss had not stated it explicitly, it was obvious to his aide that there was a serious concern that someone might be running a renegade operation, and that one or more OSS members may be involved. Bill was a quasi member of several teams working on various projects, by virtue of the assistance he provided as someone who understood the ins and outs of the often frustratingly bureaucratic system within whose bounds they all had to work. It seemed funny to him, as it did to Dulles himself, that even in the spy business with all its clandestine operations and tight-lipped secrets, the paper pushers and the politicians had to be given their due. Templeton and Mallory were engaged in trying to reign in nuclear material from which an atomic bomb could be made, and from Bill's function as a conduit in trying to acquire needed information from the Manhattan project, he had some idea of the magnitude of destruction that could be unleashed. Therefore, it was with a true sense of urgency that he opened the large sealed envelope and began his collation and correlation of the numerous reports it contained.
Two hours later, when Dulles returned from lunch, he gave him a few minutes to settle back in, and then knocked once on the door, before entering. "I have something on the generals."
"Let's see what you have. Bring it over to the table." He stood and covered the short distance in a few paces, motioning for Bill to pull out a chair.
Bill spread the papers before Dulles, ordered and organized to present what he thought would be a logical briefing for his boss, who would most likely be facing some tough and time sensitive decisions in very short order. He began with no preamble. "They had no contact before February, 1944 when they were both sent to Norway to secure whatever plutonium remained at Norsk Hydroelectric after it was rendered non functional by allied bombing and sabotage, and to arrange for its safe transport to Germany."
Dulles's eyebrows shot up. "They were both there! Why would Hitler send two generals to guard a shipment, even such an important one?" It was really a rhetorical question, just one cell in the mental spreadsheet that he was formulating, and one for which he did not expect an answer. However, his aide no doubt felt sufficiently at ease to chime in with his thoughts.
"Hitler was starting to get pretty paranoid, and maybe he just wanted them there to watch each other."
"Apparently they did just that; only one of them was a little better at it. General Schroeder appropriated the plutonium for himself, substituted some bogus replacement and probably thought he got away with it, but I'll bet General Waldman was on to him." Dulles leaned back as he let his mind wander through possible scenarios, verbalizing what he thought were the likely possibilities, more for his own benefit than that of his aide who respectfully waited for the analysis to be completed. "Waldman knows Schroeder took it, but doesn't know what his plans are. Must realize its value, both tactically and financially. Can't do anything about it at the time —— not prepared. Bet he wished he had thought of it. Has to settle on biding his time and keeping an eye on Schroeder, while he makes plans of his own. How does he keep tabs of Schroeder?" He paused and turned to Bill. "What else?"
After Norway, there seems to have been some time in Germany for both of them, although there are no specifics. Schroeder ends up in Italy in March to take over the German troops repelling the Anzio landing, but more importantly, to rally the men defending Monte Cassino which Hitler demands must be held at all costs. He does a brilliant job, holding out for months against some of the heaviest air strikes and artillery bombardments of the war. His soldiers love and respect him, would do anything for him, and manage to repel attack after attack until their position is finally overrun in mid May. We lost a great number of men taking that one monastery. From then on he's pushed slowly north as the allies hook up with the forces at Anzio and push on to liberate Rome. The most recent position for his troops is north of Milan.
"And what of our SS general?"
"Waldman manages to get appointed to the general staff in some minor position. There's no real information on what his duties were, but he doesn't seem to have done much of anything. Sounds like a political appointment; we do know that his family is wealthy and well connected. Now, here's the interesting part. In February of this year he's transferred to Italy where he takes charge of all the SS troops remaining there, all of them bunched up in the north and operating in the same theatre as Schroeder's Wehrmacht. As a member of the general staff, even a junior member, it's extremely unlikely that he would be transferred anywhere unless he wanted to go or it was a direct order from Hitler, and we know that the latter was not the case."
"So we have both of our generals together again and it appears to be
planned propinquity." Dulles pushed back his chair and returned to the desk for his pipe, tapping out the residue of tobacco, refilling the bowl from the pouch lying next to it, and puffing it back to life from the flame of his Zippo lighter, all in almost slow motion as he used the repetitive behavior to garner time to gather the thoughts that filled his head. "Well, what better way to keep track of a high ranking officer than to be on the general staff, which controlls troop movements? And by February any good tactician, and there were quite a few on the general staff, would know that Germany was going to lose the war within the next four to six months." He sat on the edge of the desk and continued, gesticulating with the stem of the pipe pointed at his aide, as he made his points. "So Waldman, either on his own, or using the analysis of other staff members, sees the writing on the wall and decides it's time to abandon the sinking ship. But he needs to get a lifeboat, and that lifeboat is the plutonium. Better for him if he's in Italy, close to Schroeder and the plutonium. Of course, he doesn't know exactly where it is, but assumes, incorrectly, that it's with Schroeder. Through some means he must have found out that it's been hidden in Germany, an obstacle that prevents a simple snatch and run. If he has someone watching the General, he knows that he's contacted us and something is going on and it involves the Bern office. Certainly could explain his appearance in Bern. Still no proof, though, that Julian or Kent were in cahoots."
"Sir?"
"Yes, go on, Bill."
"General Schroeder's absences from his command have been relatively few. His trips here, for operation Crossword, you already know about. He's been called to Berlin three times, and on two occasions he's traveled to Munich, presumably to check on his ward. Other than that, he's been wherever the war's taken him. General Waldman's a different story."
"How so?"
"Since September of '44, shortly after negotiations with General Schroeder began, he's made three trips to Switzerland from Berlin during the time he was a member of the general staff, and at least one of them was to Bern. In addition, once he got to his own command in northern Italy we have reports of several absences, all of them beginning with him traveling north towards the Swiss border, then our sources lose track of him, and a day or two later he shows up back in Italy."
"Can we definitely place him in Switzerland during any of these junkets?"
"There's no mention in any of the reports I received of his whereabouts during those times, and he's not even on the radar of anyone on our own team so we have no information here, either."
"But you do have dates?"
"Yes, the Italian partisans logged all of that and transmitted it to Caserta."
"And how do those dates correspond with the travels of Templeton and Mallory?"
"One trip of Julian's occurred during a thirty six hour period when Waldman was absent from his post in Berlin. It was to a little town called 'Altstatten,' about five kilometers from the Austrian border. His log book indicates it was a rendezvous with partisans."
Bill didn't know that there was a training base there, nor did any of the staff with the exception of Dulles and two senior members, one of whom was Julian. This information was certainly not damning, but for Dulles it was one more link in a chain that seemed to be coming ever closer to ensnaring one of his own. Hiding his surprise, he asked, "Was this the only concordance?"
"Yes, but ... "
"What?" Impatience in his voice.
"I don't track Templeton's movements, or any of the others for that matter, but it seems to me that he was away more than was listed on the logs. I hesitated mentioning this because it was possible that he just had business elsewhere in Bern and never came in to the office."
Possible, but not likely, thought Dulles, not for a man like Templeton, someone who was very much at home in clandestine operations and was smart enough to cover his tracks when necessary. Although he was not a field agent, he had had some training, including two weeks at the camp near Altstatten, and it was the knowledge acquired during this "apprenticeship" that made him such a good handler of agents, spies and partisans working behind enemy lines. "Well, we don't have the proof we need, Bill, but I have to admit that he could have made undisclosed trips to meet up with either of the generals on his own." Dulles thought the location chosen for the rendezvous was genius for it gave Templeton a perfect alibi if discovered, especially since the agent going into Germany would have to train there. Moreover, there were two routes in and out, one overland through Austria and one across Lake Constance to the north. "What about Kent; do his outings coincide with either of the generals?"
"Three trips to Lugano, including the last un-logged one, occurred when Waldman headed north to Switzerland, and one to the same location when Schroeder was known to be here. The connection for Mallory is stronger than for Templeton. And, of course, there's his disappearance."
Kent might be involved, possibly being used, but certainly not the mind or the force behind this. He doesn't posses either in sufficient quantity. "Any more to tell me, Bill?"
"No, that's all that I have now. The financial information has to come from stateside and I wouldn't expect anything for another day, possibly two."
"OK, then. Thanks, and let me know as soon as you have more." Bill left the papers for Dulles and returned to his desk just outside the office.
Dulles sat on the edge of his desk for a minute, pondering the situation. His suspicions and hunches were not enough to arrest Templeton, but considering the stakes, they were more than sufficient to require that he set up safeguards to protect not only the operation, but also his network. He had no idea at this time how much may have been compromised and it sickened him to think of all the men and women who could be in extreme jeopardy. What was needed was some hard evidence so Julian could be brought in and interrogated, and since it didn't seem that that would be forthcoming from a review of the available information, he decided on a more proactive course. He picked up his private line and placed a call to a friend living in the old quarter of the town, a close friend, not in the intelligence community, and one whose family was known to Dulles from his days as a partner in the law firm of Sullivan and Cromwell, where he had honed his skills in international law and investment banking.
Within the hour a short, balding, middle aged man wearing a dark colored three-piece business suit was shown into the office. This was Hans Mettler, entrepreneur, businessman and heir to his family's considerable wealth. At barely five feet seven inches with a pencil thin mustache in the French tradition, a cherubic smile on his face and a frame that, while not exactly portly, indicated a fondness for food and the good life, Hans looked more like a genial headwaiter than a captain of industry. He did, as a matter of fact, once serve as a headwaiter in one of the family restaurants, his father believing that one could not be captain of the ship if you didn't know how to swab the decks. And so he had apprenticed in the various family enterprises including restaurants, hotels, manufacturing and, more recently, banking, showing above average intelligence, a memory that was like a bank vault, and a keen adeptness in judging people, not to mention the extremely useful ability to make others underestimate him, to see him merely as a "headwaiter." Satisfied with his son's prowess, the senior Mettler gracefully passed the baton and contented himself with the numerous pastimes available to the wealthy, endeavors he hadn't had time to enjoy as he managed and expanded the family enterprises.
Allen and Hans were close friends, the former seeing the numerous assets and the sharp mind that others often missed, and the latter appreciative of someone who shared many of his beliefs and with whom he could be himself. Dulles didn't wait for Hans to cover the short distance to his desk, but bounded out of his chair and greeted his friend with a warm handshake. "Hans, it is so good to see you. I've been so busy I'm afraid I've forgotten my manners and neglected old friends."
He waved dismissively. "No need to apologize. The work you do is important, both for Switzerland and for the world. There will be time to renew the pleasantries of good
company, and I trust that time will soon be upon us. Now, what can I do for my friend?"
"Am I that transparent?"
"Of course not. Nor am I some kind of diviner. An unexpected summons from an old friend, a sense of urgency in your tone —— what else might one think? Not that it makes it less of a pleasure to see you once again. Besides, to be of assistance in what I believe is a just cause would provide a satisfaction not to be had from my more mundane efforts. And so, I ask once again, how may I be of service?"
Allen explained his plan while Hans sat in the easy chair next to him and listened, the smile still on his face but his eyes alert and unwavering. When Dulles finished, Mettler responded without hesitation, "That will not be a problem at all. By tomorrow everything will be in place."
"Good. Come to the table and I'll give you what you need." Afterwards, Allen opened the small bar and poured two glasses of cognac, offering one to his friend. "To old times and their speedy return."
"Here, here." He took a long appreciative sip. "This is very good cognac."
"It should be. It came from one of your restaurants, a gift upon my arrival."
"Yes, I knew that. I was merely being polite in case you had forgotten."
Allen laughed loudly and it felt good. It had been a while. "My friend, I cannot wait until this business is over and we have time to sit and reminisce and enjoy a long, utterly decadent meal."
They slowly ambled to the door, sipping their drinks and exchanging brief bits of personal information, an ersatz "catching up," both of them knowing this was not the time nor the place for any more than that. Hans opened the door, not waiting for Allen to show him out, and handed him his glass. "Tomorrow, by noon, all will be ready."
Dulles hadn't even made it back to his desk when Bill knocked and stood at the entrance, a typed dispatch in hand. "This is a dispatch from Caserta we just decoded; because of the inquiry I sent them, they thought we might be interested."
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