The Honor Of Spies - The Honor of Spies Part 51
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The Honor of Spies Part 51

They had no choice, Raschner reasoned, but to go on as they had . . . but taking even greater care to make sure the ransoming operation remained secret.

No one was ever selected to replace Heydrich as Himmler's adjutant. But Himmler gave von Deitzberg the title of "first deputy adjutant" and a week later took him to the Reichschancellery, where a beaming, cordial Adolf Hitler personally promoted him to SS-brigadefuhrer and warmly thanked him for his services to the SS and himself personally.

Von Deitzberg immediately arranged for Goltz to be promoted to sturmbannfuhrer, and Raschner to hauptsturmfuhrer. And he arranged for both to be sent to Buenos Aires. The risk of someone new coming into the Office of the Reichsprotektor and learning about the confidential special fund seemed to be over.

All of this had been going on simultaneously with Operation Phoenix.

Phoenix was of course the plan concocted by Bormann, Himmler, Ribben trop, and others at the pinnacle of the Nazi hierarchy to establish a sanctuary for senior Nazis in South America, from which they could rise phoenixlike from the ashes of the Thousand-Year Reich when the war was lost.

It had been no trouble for von Deitzberg to arrange for Standartenfuhrer Goltz to be sent to Buenos Aires as the man in charge of Operation Phoenix. That posting conveniently placed him in a position to be the confidential special fund's man in South America.

By then, curiously, there actually was a problem with the financial success of the fund. There was far more cash floating around than could be spent--or even invested--without questions being raised. It followed that the confidential special fund's leadership--von Deitzberg, Goltz, and Raschner--decided that setting up their own private version of Operation Phoenix was the natural solution. After all, von Tresmarck was already in place in Montevideo; it would pose no great problem for him to make investments for the confidential special fund. He was already doing that for Operation Phoenix.

And then there were the blunders. Von Deitzberg took little pride in being able to recognize a blunder when one occurred. Or an appalling number of them.

The first had been the failed assassination attempt on the American son of el Coronel Jorge G. Frade. When it became known that Cletus Frade--who had ostensibly "come home" to Argentina--was in fact an agent of the Office of Strategic Services and whose purpose in Argentina was to turn his father against Germany, the decision had been made to kill him. His murder would send the message to the man who almost certainly was going to be the next president of Argentina that even his son could not stand up to the power and anger of the Thousand-Year Reich.

But that hadn't worked. Young Frade, clearly not the foolish young man everyone seemed to have decided he was, killed the men sent to kill him. His outraged father then had loaned his pilot son an airplane with which young Frade located the Spanish-flagged--and thus "neutral"--merchant ship that had been replenishing German submarines in Samborombon Bay. Soon thereafter, a U.S. Navy submarine had torpedoed the vessel and the German U-boat tied alongside.

Von Deitzberg never learned who among the most senior of the Nazi hierarchy had ordered young Frade's assassination. And because that attempt had failed, no one was going to claim that responsibility.

They were, however, obviously the same people who had ordered the second blunder, the assassination of el Coronel Jorge G. Frade himself. The intention there was to send the message to the Argentine officer corps that just as Germany was prepared to reward its friends, it was equally prepared to punish its enemies no matter their position in the Argentine hierarchy.

That assassination had been successful. El Coronel Frade died of a double load of double-ought buckshot to his face while riding in his car on his estancia. The results of that assassination, however, were even more disastrous for Germany than the failed assassination of Frade's son.

The Argentine officer corps was enraged by Frade's murder. And during the attempted smuggling ashore of the first "special shipment"--crates literally stuffed with currency and precious jewels to be used to purchase sanctuary--from the Oceano Pacifico at Samborombon Bay, both Standartenfuhrer Goltz and Oberst Karl-Heinz Gruner--the military attache and his assistant who were there to receive it--died of high-power rifle bullets fired into their skulls. Only good luck saw that the special shipment made it safely back to the Oceano Pacifico.

Who actually did the shooting never came to light. It could have been the OSS, perhaps even Frade himself. Or it could have been Argentine army snipers sending the message to the Germans that the assassination of a beloved Argentine officer was unacceptable behavior.

It didn't matter who did the shooting. So far as Bormann, Himmler, and the other senior Nazis behind Operation Phoenix were concerned, Operation Phoenix was in jeopardy. And that was absolutely unacceptable.

And there was more: On the death of el Coronel Frade, his only child inherited everything his father had owned, which included his enormous estancia, countless business enterprises, and, perhaps most dangerous of all, what amounted to his own private army. Young Frade now had several hundred former soldiers of the Husares de Pueyrredon who had returned to their homes on Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo with their devotion to their murdered commander, el Coronel Frade, intact and now transferred to his son. Including, of course, their considerable military skills.

The fury of the Argentine officer corps over Frade's assassination had finally gotten through to the inner circle at Wolfsschanze. Von Deitzberg was sent to Buenos Aires, ostensibly as a Wehrmacht generalmajor, to apologize privately to el Coronel Juan D. Peron for the absolutely inexcusable stupidity of Oberst Karl-Heinz Gruner, who had ordered el Coronel Frade's assassination. Peron had been told that Gruner had already been returned to Germany, where he would be dealt with. Von Deitzberg didn't mention that it was the bodies of both Gruner and Standartenfuhrer Goltz that had been returned to the Fatherland, and that they had made the trip in the freezer of the Oceano Pacifico.

Von Deitzberg installed SS-Obersturmbannfuhrer Karl Cranz at the embassy to replace Goltz--officially as a diplomat, the commercial attache--in running both Operation Phoenix and the confidential special fund, and then he went to Montevideo to check up on Sturmbannfuhrer Werner von Tresmarck and his wife.

The von Tresmarcks met the Fieseler Storch in which Major Hans-Peter von Wachtstein had flown von Deitzberg across the River Plate. Frau von Tresmarck was at the wheel of a convertible automobile, an American Chevrolet. She was just as interesting as he remembered. He realized immediately that he wanted to get her alone, which would not be difficult as he had planned to interview them separately.

He then sent von Wachtstein back to Argentina, von Tresmarck to his home to prepare a report of what he was doing, and he took Inge von Tresmarck to the Hotel Casino de Carrasco. They went first to the bar and then to his room.

When von Deitzberg made his first advance to her, she laughed at him. Enraged, he slapped her face. He had never before in his life struck a woman. Yet he suddenly realized that he had never before in his life been so excited as he was now, looking down at her where she had fallen, and her looking at him with terror in her eyes.

He ordered her to strip. When she hesitated, he slapped her again. The clothing came quickly off. He humiliated her both verbally--he told her that her breasts sagged and that her ugly buttocks--he used the word "ass"--were unpleasant to look at--and then physically. Ten minutes after entering his room, Inge von Tresmarck was naked, on her knees, tears running down her face, crawling across the room to him under a command to take his penis into her mouth.

The incident was the most satisfying sexual experience von Deitzberg could ever remember experiencing.

Von Deitzberg had not quite finished shaving when Maria showed up in his room with his breakfast and Dr. Muller's herbal medications. First Secretary Anton von Gradny-Sawz came in a moment later as von Deitzberg was gathering his courage to take the first of his three daily doses of chopped garlic in warm water.

"You're a little early, Gradny-Sawz," von Deitzberg accused.

"I came as quickly as I could," von Gradny-Sawz said. "There was a Condor flight at two this morning."

This somewhat mystifying statement was explained when von Gradny-Sawz ceremoniously opened his briefcase, took an envelope from it, and handed the envelope to von Deitzberg.

He's treating that like a message from God!

When he took the envelope and glanced at it, von Deitzberg saw why von Gradny-Sawz was impressed. On the front of the envelope it simply read DER REICHSFUHRER-SS BERLIN. On the back, where the envelope was sealed, was Himmler's handwritten signature, his method of ensuring that the envelope could not be opened undetected.

"This has been opened," von Deitzberg accused.

"The ambassador opened it," von Gradny-Sawz said, "and then sent me to deliver it to you."

Von Deitzberg took the two sheets of paper on which the message had been typed and read them: It had been von Deitzberg's intention to return to bed when he had finished shaving. Now, without really thinking about it, he went to the chest of drawers where his linen was now stored, freshly washed after its bath in Samborombon Bay.

When he'd selected underwear, a shirt, and stockings, and started for the bathroom, von Gradny-Sawz asked, "Feeling a little better, are you? Good news from Berlin, I gather?"

Maria said, "Senor Schenck, you are supposed to do the garlic water before breakfast."

"Get that goddamned garlic water out of here," von Deitzberg snapped. "Get all of those lunatic remedies out of here."

"Is something wrong?" von Gradny-Sawz asked.

"Go find a public telephone," von Deitzberg ordered. "Call Cranz. Tell him to come here immediately. In a taxi, not an embassy car."

"Something is wrong," von Gradny-Sawz proclaimed.

Von Deitzberg thought: I am surrounded by idiots!

He ordered: "And when you've done that, station yourself at the door downstairs. If that lunatic Muller gets past you and up here, I'll throw both of you out of the window!"

He turned to the maid. "Maria, after you throw all of that herbal junk away, go to the restaurant and get me some scrambled eggs--four scrambled eggs--toast, ham, and a pot of coffee."

She looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

"My God, didn't you hear me?"

Maria began to cry.

Von Gradny-Sawz gave von Deitzberg a dirty look, put his arm around Maria's shoulders, and led her out of the room, speaking softly to her. Von Deitzberg went into the bathroom, took a cold shower, and then dressed.

When Maria returned with his scrambled eggs, von Deitzberg apologized to her for raising his voice and whatever else he had done to cause her to be uncomfortable.

While doing so, for the first time since they'd met, he looked at her as a female. He'd heard somewhere that Latin women--or was it Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese?--matured earlier than Aryans. It was apparently true so far as Maria was concerned. She had an entirely mature and quite attractive bosom.

He did not permit his thoughts to wander down that path.

My God, she's fifteen!

Any mature man taking carnal advantage of a fifteen-year-old female child should be lashed at the stake first, and then castrated.

And Peron likes them even younger! That's obscene!

Unfortunately, I don't think I will ever be able to watch el Coronel Peron as he is lashed or castrated.

I have other plans for that degenerate sonofabitch!

Von Deitzberg, to ensure he hadn't missed anything, read Himmler's letter a third time as he ate his scrambled eggs.

He knew that while everything Himmler had written was true, it was not a complete report of what had happened at Wolfsschanze. Himmler was too smart to write that down, and he knew that von Deitzberg--who not only was privy to the backstabbing of the senior Nazis but personally had witnessed at least a dozen of the Fuhrer's legendary tirades--would be easily able to fill in the blanks.

Himmler had not considered it necessary to suggest that Goebbels, the clubfooted propaganda minister, had brought South American Airways' accomplishment to Hitler's attention, not in order to keep the Fuhrer up-to-date, but rather it would direct the Fuhrer's rage at Reichsmarschall Hermann Goring, of whose power he was jealous and whom he loathed.

It wasn't at all hard for von Deitzberg to picture the scene around the map table at Wolfsschanze with Hitler ranting at a cowering Goring. The Fuhrer was wont to stamp his foot. His tirade was often accompanied by a shower of spittle. And a supply of spectacles was kept available to replace those he threw at the floor or at whoever was the target of his rage.

And von Deitzberg could clearly see the concern in Goebbels's eyes when Hitler was on the edge of ordering that the Constellations be shot down, then that concern replaced with relief when Canaris, with his usual skill, kept that from happening.

My God! I'm thinking clearly!

Twenty minutes ago, all I was thinking of was what those gottverdammt concoctions that that moron Muller has been feeding me are doing to my stomach and bowels. Or daydreaming like a sixteen-year-old with raging hormones about Inge von Tresmarck.

It's as if I've been asleep, or drugged, and suddenly woken up.

Why? What happened? What woke me up?

After a moment's thought, he knew what had happened.

He was terrified because of the last paragraph of Himmler's letter: "The discussion ended somewhat abruptly at that point when the Fuhrer turned to me and said, in effect, 'Von Deitzberg is over there; have him take care of this.' "

I have been personally given the task of destroying SAA's aircraft, and in such a manner that the finger of suspicion cannot be pointed at Germany.

Every one of those Sohns der einer Hundin at Wolfsschanze must have been delighted.

Canaris, because Hitler hadn't ordered him to do it.

Goebbels, because there would not be an uproar in the world's press over Germans shooting down a civilian airline of a neutral power carrying a load of priests and nuns.

Goring, because Hitler hadn't ordered the Luftwaffe to do the shooting down. And Heinrich Himmler, because he hadn't been ordered to put the Sicherheitsdienst to work destroying the airplanes.

Not one of them--but me, personally!

"Have von Deitzberg take care of this."

All Himmler was doing was relaying the Fuhrer's orders.

Yet if I somehow succeed in destroying the airplanes, Himmler will of course take all the credit.

And if I fail, I will have Hitler personally furious with me. And I am a lowly SS-brigadefuhrer, not a senior general. Hitler doesn't scream at unimportant people like me; he just has the Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler stand them in front of a wall.

Unless he's really angry, and orders the Leibstandarte to hang me from a butcher's hook with Goebbels's movie cameras filming so the Fuhrer can watch my agony at his leisure and over and over again.

And it's not as if I don't already have my hands full.

I still have no idea how I'm going to do what else I have to do here--eliminate that gottverdammt American Frade of the OSS, locate and eliminate the Froggers, find out how much damage the Froggers have done to Operation Phoenix, and check on both how the confidential special fund is being handled in Uruguay and whether that miserable deviate von Tresmarck has been able to keep his mouth shut.

And now this!

And I am absolutely alone!

Cranz and Raschner are incompetent--not only did they fail to eliminate Frade but they managed to lose an SS officer and half a dozen of his men while shooting up an empty house. Only a fool would not consider that they will shortly receive a letter from Himmler--now that I think about it, it probably came in the same pouch as Himmler's letter to von Lutzenberger and me--ordering them to secretly report on how I am carrying out my assignments.

And Cranz will do a good job on that. That Sohn der einer Hundin would like nothing better than to get me out of the way so he could become first deputy adjutant to the Reichsfuhrer-SS.

Well, as I always say about facing a difficult task: "You need good men and a lot of money."

And I have all the money I could possibly need--or will just as soon as I can get to Uruguay.

But men? Where am I going to find good men?

There's no one at all, except that fat slob--Anton von Gradny-Sawz, the grosse Weinerwurst--and he's stupid and as useless as teats on a boar hog.

Or . . .

Wait a minute! I don't think he's really stupid. He was certainly smart enough to know when to change sides just before the Anschluss. And he's done a remarkable job of covering his Gesass since he joined the German diplomatic service.

And he's afraid of me!

And what other choice do I have?

Anton von Gradny-Sawz and August Muller, M.D., were standing in the foyer of the petit-hotel when von Deitzberg came quickly down the stairway.

Dr. Muller looked at von Deitzberg curiously. Von Gradny-Sawz had a look of concern, as if he were afraid that von Deitzberg would attack the physician.

"Ah, the Bavarian medical genius!" von Deitzberg then cried happily. "What are you doing here in the foyer? Come up to the room and we'll send Maria out for a little schnapps. We can find schnapps here, right, Anton?"

"I'm not sure if we can," von Gradny-Sawz said uneasily.

"Nothing to drink for me at this hour," Dr. Muller said. "Thank you just the same. I have to go to the hospital."

"Of course, of course," von Deitzberg said. "I understand. But I really wanted to celebrate."

"You're feeling better, I gather?" Muller asked.

"I woke up this morning feeling better than I've felt in years," von Deitzberg said. "Doctor, you are a genius!"

"Oh, I'm just a simple physician trying to do my best."

"You're too modest," von Deitzberg said. "Much too modest. I am deeply in your debt. And at the risk of immodesty, the SS is grateful to you, as well. You have returned this officer to full duty."