The Unlikely Spy

Though Schellenberg and Himmler had been plotting against Canaris for years, a chain of unfortunate events had finally done in the Old Fox: his failure to predict Argentina's decision to sever all ties with Germany; the loss of a vital Abwehr intelligence-gathering post in Spanish Morocco; the defections of several key Abwehr officers in Turkey, Casablanca, Lisbon, and Stockholm. But the final straw was the disastrous conclusion of Vogel's operation in London. Two Abwehr agents--Horst Neumann and Catherine Blake--had been killed within sight of the U-boat. They had been unable to transmit a final message explaining why they had decided to flee England, leaving Vogel with no way to judge the authenticity of the information Catherine Blake had stolen on Operation Mulberry. Hitler exploded when he heard the news. He immediately fired Canaris and placed the Abwehr and its sixteen thousand agents in the hands of Schellenberg.

 

Somehow, Vogel survived. Schellenberg and Himmler suspected the operation had been compromised by Canaris. Vogel--like Catherine Blake and Horst Neumann--was an innocent victim of the Old Fox's treachery.

 

Vogel had another theory. He suspected all the information stolen by Catherine Blake had been planted by British Intelligence. He suspected she and Neumann attempted to flee Britain when Neumann discovered she was being watched by the opposition. He suspected Operation Mulberry was not an antiaircraft complex destined for the Pas de Calais but an artificial harbor bound for the beaches of Normandy. He also suspected all the other agents sent to Britain were bad--that they had been captured and forced to cooperate with British Intelligence, probably from the outset of the war.

 

Vogel, however, lacked the evidence to substantiate any of this--good lawyer that he was, he did not intend to bring charges he could not prove. Besides, even if he had the proof in his possession, he wasn't sure he would have given it to the likes of Schellenberg and Himmler.

 

One of the telephones on Schellenberg's desk rang. It was a call he had to take. He grunted and spoke in a guarded code for five minutes while Vogel waited. The snowstorm of soot had diminished. The ruins of Berlin shone in the April sun. Shattered glass sparkled like ice crystals.

 

Remaining at the Abwehr and cooperating with the new regime had its advantages. Vogel had quietly slipped Gertrude, Nicole, and Lizbet from Bavaria to Switzerland. Like a good agent runner, he had financed the operation with an elaborate shell game, moving funds from secret Abwehr accounts in Switzerland to Gertrude's personal account, then covering the exchange with his own money in Germany. He had moved enough money out of the country to enable them to live comfortably for a couple of years after the war. He had another asset, the information he possessed in his mind. The British and Americans, he felt certain, would pay handsomely in money and protection.

 

Schellenberg rang off and made a face as though he had a sour stomach.

 

"So," he said. "The reason I asked you to come today, Captain Vogel. Some exciting news from London."

 

"Oh?" Vogel said, raising an eyebrow.

 

"Yes. Our source inside MI-Five has some very interesting information."

 

Schellenberg produced a signal flimsy with a flourish and presented it to Vogel. Reading it, Vogel thought, Remarkable, the subtlety of the manipulation. He finished and handed the flimsy across the desk to Schellenberg.

 

Schellenberg said, "For MI-Five to take disciplinary action against a man who is a personal friend and confidant of Winston Churchill is extraordinary. And the source is impeccable. I recruited him personally. He's not one of Canaris's flunkies. I believe it proves the information stolen by your agent was genuine, Captain Vogel."

 

"Yes, I believe you're right, Herr Brigadefuhrer."

 

"The Fuhrer needs to be told of this right away. He's meeting with the Japanese ambassador at Berchtesgaden tonight to brief him on preparations for the invasion. I'm sure he'll want to pass this along."

 

Vogel nodded.

 

"I'm leaving on a plane from Tempelhof in one hour. I'd like you to come with me and personally brief the Fuhrer. After all, it was your operation to begin with. And besides, the man has taken a liking to you. You have a very bright future, Captain Vogel."

 

"Thank you for the offer, Herr Brigadefuhrer, but I think you should tell the Fuhrer about the news."

 

"Are you certain, Captain Vogel?"

 

"Yes, Herr Brigadefuhrer, I'm quite certain."

 

 

 

 

 

62

 

 

OYSTER BAY, NEW YORK

 

 

 

 

 

It was the first fine day of spring--warm sunshine, a soft wind from the Sound. The day before had been cold and damp. Dorothy Lauterbach had worried that the memorial service and reception would be ruined by the cold. She made certain all the fireplaces in the house were laid with wood and ordered the caterer to have plenty of hot coffee ready for when the guests arrived. But by midmorning the sun had burned away the last of the clouds, and the island sparkled. Dorothy quickly moved the reception from the house to the lawn overlooking the Sound.

 

Shepherd Ramsey had brought Peter's things from London: his clothes, his books, his letters, the personal papers that the security men had not seized. Ramsey, sitting on the transport plane from London, had leafed through the letters to make certain there was no mention of the woman Peter was seeing in London before his death.

 

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