Designated Targets

“The Russians still don’t trust us,” said Brasch.

“No reason why they should,” Himmler replied. “We will destroy them in good time, and they know it. I doubt this is the only investment they’ve made as a hedge against the future. But as long as we control their access to the technology, they remain beholden to us. We took our boot from Stalin’s throat when we could have crushed the life out of him.”

Brasch said nothing. Both of them knew that as awful as were the Red Army’s losses in 1942, it had been the beginning of the end for the German conquest.

Before the silence could become uncomfortable, though, Brasch filled the void. “The führer is well? We do not have much news out here. Just rumors.”

Himmler arched one eyebrow. “Really? And what might those be?”

“Terrible rumors, Herr Reichsführer,” said Brasch. “I have heard of treachery at the highest levels of the Wehrmacht and the Kreigsmarine. Not so much with the Luftwaffe. I’m not sure why. And of course, not at all with the SS. At any rate, if even a fraction of the talk is true, it is a crime how some have abandoned their duty to the Fatherland.”

Himmler appeared to regard him as a teacher might size up a dim pupil who had just said something profound, but quite by accident. Brasch worked hard at maintaining a slightly worried, somewhat bovine look on his face. Eventually Himmler took off his glasses and polished them with a handkerchief. Brasch recognized the gesture as a sign that the man had relaxed just a little.

“We have had a terrible time of it,” Himmler admitted. “It has been a shock to us all, but naturally the greatest burden has fallen upon the führer himself. I have done what I can to protect him, but . . .”

He trailed off for a moment.

“A regiment of the Afrika Korps revolted when Rommel was recalled. Actually turned their guns on the men sent to collect him.”

“The whole regiment!” Brasch gasped. “How?”

“No, not the entire regiment,” said Himmler, somewhat exasperated. “Just a few men in a headquarters company at first. But then it spread through the ranks. The defense of El Alamein was thrown into chaos, and that pervert Montgomery took advantage—it was a disaster, Herr Oberst. Not at all like the spirit of Belgorod, eh?”

Brasch allowed himself a confused shake of the head. “No, not at all like Belgorod.”

“There was a similar uprising when Canaris was exposed. Rebellion in both the Abwehr and the Kreigsmarine. An entire Waffen SS Division was required to put that one down.”

“Good God!” said Brasch, who was genuinely surprised that the rumors he’d heard turned out to be true.

Himmler finished polishing his glasses and replaced them on his small, ratlike nose. “You understand these are state secrets, Brasch. They are not matters for idle chitchat.”

“Indeed Herr Reichsführer. Of course, but why . . .” He trailed off.

“Why do I tell you? Because you need to know, Brasch. The Fatherland needs men it can trust. I am afraid the counterattacks on the criminal gangs who would undermine our leader have rather drastically thinned out our upper ranks. They have not weakened us, mind you!” he hastened to add. “But some of those swine held important positions. They must be replaced.”

The room seemed to become hotter, and closer. Brasch tried not to let his hopes get the better of him. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Am I to be transferred? My work here—”

Himmler held up one, thin, pallid hand to cut him off. “Your work here is done. Stalin is convinced that our cooperation is sincere, at least in the short term. And your efforts here have played a large part in that. He knows there must come a final settlement between us, and we know he is frantically building his forces in the Far East, where he thinks himself beyond our gaze. It doesn’t matter. When we have dealt with the immediate threat of the Allies, we shall turn on him with weapons he has never dreamed of. The trinkets we let him play with here will not save him, nor will those fleets of antique tanks he is building.”

“I understand that, Herr Reichsführer. My mission briefing was quite specific. But what now?”

“Now,” said Himmler, leaning forward. “You are going home. These idiots will think you have been transferred in disgrace, after today’s failure. But you have proved yourself adept at working under extreme pressure, and there are projects that require your attention back in the civilized world.

“We are going to take the British Isles, Colonel Brasch. And you are going to help us.”

6

SOUTHWEST PACIFIC AREA, CORAL SEA