Wilhelm. Zangen stood by the window overlooking Stuttgart's Reichssieg
Platz, holding a handkerchief against his inflamed, perspiring chin. This
outlying section of the city had been spared the bombing; it was
residential, even peaceful. The Neckar River could be seen in the distance,
its waters rolling calmly, oblivious to the destruction that had been
wrought on the other side of the city.
Zangen realized he was expected to speak, to answer von Schnitzler, who
spoke for all of I. G. Farben. The two other men were as anxious to hear
his words as was von Schnitzler. There was no point in procrastinating. He
had to carry out Altmiffler's orders.
'The Krupp laboratories have failed. No matter what Essen says, there is no
time for experimentation. The Ministry of Armaments has made that clear;
Altmiffier is resolute. He speaks for Speer.' Zangen turned and looked at
the three men. 'He holds you responsible.'
'How can that beT asked von Schnitzler, his guttural lisp pronounced, his
voice angry. 'How can we be responsible for something we know nothing
about? It's illogical. Ridiculousl'
'Would you wish me to convey that judgment to the ministryT
'I'll convey it myself, thank you,' replied von Schnitzler. 'Farben is not
involved.'
'We are all involved,' said Zangen quietly.
71
'How can our company beT asked Heinrich Krepps, Direktor of Schreibwaren,
the largest printing complex in Germany. 'Our work with Peenem0nde has been
practically nothing; and what there was, obscured to the point of
foolishness. Secrecy is one thing; lying to ourselves, something else
again. Do not include us, Herr Zangen.'
:You are included.'
I reject your conclusion. I've studied our communications with Peenem0nde.'
'Perhaps you were not cleared for all the facts.'
'Asinine!'
'Quite possibly. Nevertheless . . .
'Such a condition would hardly apply to me, Herr Reich official,' said
Johann Dietricht, the middle-aged effeminate son of the Dietricht
Chemikalien empire. Dietricht's family had contributed heavily to Hitler's
National Socialist coffers; when the father and uncle had died, Johann
Dietricht was allowed to continue the management - more in name than in
fact. 'Nothing occurs at Dietricht of which I am unaware. We've had nothing
to do with Peenemiinde!'
Johann Dietricht smiled, his fat lips curling, his blinking eyes betraying
an excess of alcohol, his partially plucked eyebrows his sexual proclivity
- excess, again. Zangen couldn't stand Dietricht; the man - although no man
- was a disgrace, his life-style an insult to German industry. Again, felt
Zangen, there was no point in procrastinating. The information would come
as no surprise to von Schnitzler and Krepps.
'There are many aspects of the Dietricht Chemikalien of which you know
nothing. Your own laboratories have worked consistently with Peenemande in
the field of chemical detonation.'
Dietricht blanched; Krepps interrupted.
'What is your purpose, Herr Reich official? You call us here only to insult
us? You tell us, directors, that we are not the masters of our own
companies? I don't know Herr Dietricht so well, but I can assure you that
von Schnitzler and myself are not puppets.'
Von Schnitzler had been watching Zangen closely, observing the Reich
official's use of his handkerchief. Zangen kept blotting his chin
nervously. 'I presume you have specific information -such as you've just
delivered to Herr Dietricht - that will con-
72
firm your statements.'
'I have.'
'Then you're saying that isolated operations - within our own factories -
were withheld from us.'
'I am.'
'Then how can we be held responsible? These are insane accusations.'
'They are made for practical reasons.'
'Now you're talking in circles!' shouted Dietricht, barely recovered from
Zangen's insult.
"I must agree,' said Krepps, as if agreement with the obvious homosexual
was distasteful, yet mandatory.
'Come, gentlemen. Must I draw pictures? These are your companies. Farben
has supplied eighty-three per cent of all chemicals for the rockets;
detonating compounds for the casing explosives. We're in a crisis. If we
don't overcome that crisis, no protestations of ignorance will serve you.
I might go so far as to say,that there are those in the ministry and
elsewhere who will deny that anything was withheld. You simply buried your
collective heads. I'm not even sure myself that such a judgment is in
error.'
'Lies!' screamed Dietricht.
'Absurd!' added Krepps.
'But obscenely practical,' concluded von Schnitzler slowly, staring at
Zangen. 'So this is what you're telling us, isn't it? What Altmifller tells
us. We either employ our resources to find a solution - to come to the aid
of our industrial Schwachling - or we face equilateral disposition in the
eyes of the ministry.'
'And in the eyes of the Fiffirer; the judgment of the Reich itself.'
'But how?' asked the frightened Johann Dietricht.
Zangen remembered AltmOller's words precisely. 'Your companies have long
histories that go back many years. Corporate and individual. From the
Baltic to the Mediterranean, from New York to Rio de Janeiro, from Saudi
Arabia to Johannesburg.'
'And from Shanghai down through Malaysia to the ports in Australia and the
Tasman Sea,' said von Schnitzler quietly.
'They don't concern us.'
'I thought not.'
'Are you suggesting, Herr Reich official, that the solution for
73
Peenemlinde lies in our past associations?' Von Schnitzler leaned forward in
his chair, his hands and eyes on the table.
'It's a crisis. No avenues can be overlooked. Communications can be
expedited.'
'No doubt. What makes you think they'd be exchanged?' continued the head of
1. G. Farben.
'Profits,' replied Zangen.
'Difficult to spend facing a firing squad.' Von Schnitzler shifted his
large bulk and looked up at the window, his expression pensive.
'You assume the commission of specific transactions. I refer more to acts
of omission.'
'Clarify that, please.' Krepps's eyes remained on the tabletop.,
'There are perhaps twenty-five acceptable sources for the bortz and
carbonado diamonds - acceptable in the sense that sufficient quantities can
be obtained in a single purchase. Africa and South America; one or two
locations in Central America. These mines are run by companies under fiat
security conditions: British, American, Free French, Belgian ... you know
them. Shipments are controlled, destinations cleared.... We are suggesting
that shipments can be sidetracked, destinations altered in neutral
territories. By the expedient of omitting normal security precautions. Acts
of incompetence, if you will; human error, not betrayal.'
'Extraordinarily profitable rrdstakes,' summed up von Schnitzler.
'Precisely,' said Wil
helm Zangen.
'Where do you find such men?' asked Johann Dietricht in his high-pitched
voice.
'Everywhere,' replied Heinrich Krepps.
Zangen blotted his chin with his handkerchief.
74
6
NOVEMBER 29, 1943
BASQUE COUNTRY, SPAIN
Spaulding raced across the foot of the hill until he saw the converging
limbs of the two trees. They were the mark. He turned right and started up
the steep incline, counting off an approximate 125 yards; the second mark.
He turned left and walked slowly around to the west slope, his -body low,
his eyes darting constantly in all directions; he gripped his pistol firmly.
On the west slope he looked, for a single rock - one among so many on the
rock-strewn Galician hill - that had been chipped on its downward side.
Chipped carefully with three indentations. It was the third and final mark.
He found it, spotting first the bent reeds of the stiff hill grass. He
knelt down and looked at his watch: two forty-five.
He was fifteen minutes early, as he had planned to be. In fifteen minutes
he would walk down the west slope, directly in front of the chipped rock.
There he would find a pile of branches. Underneath the branches would be a
men. One was a member of an infiltration team. The other two were
Wissenschaftkr - German scientists who had been attached to the Kindorf
laboratories in the Ruhr Valley. Their defections - escape - had been an
objective of long planning.
The obstacles were always the same.
Gestapo.
The Gestapo had broken an underground agent and was on to
75
the Wissenschaftler. But, typical of the SS elite, it kept its knowledge to
itself, looking for bigger game than two disaffected laboratory men. Gestapo
Agenten had given the scientists wide latitude; surveillance dismissed,
laboratory patrols relaxed to the point of inefficiency, routine
interrogation disregarded.
Contradictions.
The Gestapo was neither inefficient nor careless. The SS was setting a
trap.
Spaulding's instructions to the, underground had been terse, simple: let
the trap be sprung. With no quarry in its net.
Word was leaked that the scientists, granted a weekend leave to Stuttgart,
were in reality heading due north through underground routing to
Bremerhaven. There contact was being made with a high-ranking defecting
German naval officer who had commandeered a small craft and would make a
dramatic run to the Allies. It was common knowledge that the German navy
was rife with unrest. It was a recruiting ground for the anti-Hitler
factions springing up throughout the Reich.
The word would give everyone something to think about, reasoned Spaulding.
And the Gestapo would be following two men it assumed were the
Wissenschaftler from Kindorf, when actually they were two middle-aged
Wehrmacht security patrols sent on a false surveillance.
Games and countergames.
So much, so alien. The expanded interests of the man in Lisbon.
This afternoon was a concession. Demanded by the German underground. He was
to make the final contact alone. The underground claimed the man in Lisbon
had created too many complications; there was too much room for error and
counterinfiltration. There wasn't, thought David, but if a solo run would
calm the nervous stomachs of the anti-Reichists, it was little enough to
grant them.
He had his own Valdero team a half mile away in the upper hills. Two shots
and they would come to his help on the fastest horses Castilian money could
buy.
It was time. He could start toward the cave for the final contact.
He slid down the hard surface, his heels digging into the earth and rocks
of the steep incline until he was above the pile of branches and limbs that
signified the hideout's opening. He picked up a handful of loose dirt and
threw it down into the broken foliage.
76
The response was as instructed: a momentary thrashing of a stick against
the piled branches. The fluttering of bird's wings, driven from the bush.
Spaulding quickly sidestepped his way to the base of the enclosure and
stood by the camouflage.
'Alles in Ordnung. Kommen Me,' he said quietly but firmly. 'There isn't
much traveling time left.'
'Halt!'was the unexpected shout from the cave.
David spun around, pressed his back into the hill and raised his Colt. The
voice from inside spoke again. In English.
'Are you ... Lisbon?'
'For God's sake, yes I Don't do that I You'll get. your head shot off!'
Christ, thought Spaulding, the infiltration team must have used a child, or
an imbecile, or both as its runner. 'Come on out.'
'I am with apologies, Lisbon,' said the voice, as the branches were
separated and the pile dislodged. 'We've had a bad time of it.,
The runner emerged. He was obviously not anyone David had trained. He was
short, very muscular, no more than twenty-five or twenty-six; nervous fear
was in his eyes.
'In the future,' said Spaulding, 'don't acknowledge signals, then question
the signaler at the last moment. Unless you intend to kill him. Es ist
Schwarztuch-chiffire.'
'Was ist das? Black . . .'
'Black drape, friend. Before our time. It means ... confirm and terminate.
Never mind, just don't do it again. Where are the others?'
'Inside. They are all right; very tired and very afraid, but not injured.'
The runner turned and pulled off more branches. 'Come out. It's the man
from Lisbon.'
The two frightened, middle-aged scientists crawled out of the cave
cautiously, blinking at the hot, harsh sun. They looked gratefully at
David; the taller one spoke in halting English.
. 'This is a . . . minute we have waited for. Our very much thanks.'
Spaulding smiled. 'Well, we're not out of the woods, yet. Frei. Both terms
apply. You're brave men. We'll do all we can for you.'
'There was ... nichts... remaining,' said the shorter laboratory man. 'My
friend's socialist ... Polilik . . . was unpopular. My late wife was ...
eine Aidin.'
'No childrenT
77
'Nein,' answered the man. 'Gott sel dank.'
'I have one son,' said the taller scientist coldly. 'Er ist ... Gestapo.'
There was no more to be said, thought Spaulding. He turned to the runner,
who was scanning the hill and the forests below. 'I'll take over now. Get
back to Base Four as soon as you can. We've got a large contingent coming
in from Koblenz in a few days. We'll need everyone. Get some rest.'
The runner hesitated; David had seen his expression before ... so often.
The man was now going to travel alone. No company, pleasant or unpleasant.
Just alone.
'That is not my understanding, Lisbon. I am to stay with you. . . .,
'WhyT interrupted Spaulding.
'My instructions. . .
'From whomT
'From those in San Sebastidn. Herr Bergeron and his men. Weren't you
informed?'
David looked a
t the runner. The man's fear was making him a poor liar,
thought Spaulding. Or he was something else. Something completely
unexpected because it was not logical; it was not, at this point, even
remotely to be considered. Unless . . ..
David gave the runner's frayed young nerves the benefit of the doubt. A
benefit, not an exoneration. That would come later.
'No, I wasn't told,' he said. 'Come on. We'll head to Beta camp. We'll stay
there until morning.' Spaulding gestured and they started across the foot
of the slope.
'I haven't worked this far south,' said the runner, positioning himself
behind David. 'Don't you travel at night, LisbonT
'Sometimes,' answered Spaulding, looking back at the scientists, who were
walking side by side. 'Not if we can help it. The Basque shoot
indiscriminately at night. They have too many dogs off their leashes at
night.'
'I see.'
'Let's walk single file. Flank our guests,' said David to the runner.
The four traveled several miles east. Spaulding kept up a rapid pace; the
middle-aged scientists did not complain but they obviously found the going
difficult. A number of times David told the others to remain where they
were while he entered the woods at various sections ofthe forest and
returned minutes later. Each
78
time he did so, the older men rested, grateful for the pauses. The runner
did not. He appeared frightened - as if the American might not come back.
Spaulding did not encourage conversation, but after one such disappearance,
the young German could not restrain himself.
'What are you doing?' he asked.
David looked at the Widerstandskdmpfer and smiled. 'Picking up messages.'
'Messages?'
'These are drops. Along our route. We establish marks for leaving off
information we don't want sent by radio. Too dangerous if intercepted.'
They continued along a narrow path at the edge of the woods until there was
a break in the Basque forest. It was a grazing field, a lower plateau
centered beneath the surrounding hills. The Wissenschaftler were perspiring
heavily, their breaths short, their legs aching.
'We'll rest here for a while,' said Spaulding, to the obvious relief of the
older men. 'It's time I made contact anyway.'
'Wa.t ist los?'asked the young runner. 'Contact?'