The Honor of Spies

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.