"How was the Old Fox this morning?" Adolf Hitler said as Walter Schellenberg walked through the door at precisely eight o'clock. Himmler was there, sitting on the overstuffed sofa sipping coffee. It was the image Schellenberg liked to present to his superiors--too busy to arrive for a meeting early and engage in small talk, disciplined enough to be prompt.
"As cagey as ever," Schellenberg said, pouring himself a cup of the steaming coffee. There was a jug with real milk. Even the staff at the SD had trouble securing a steady supply these days. "He refused to tell me anything about Vogel's operation. He claims he knows nothing about it. He has permitted Vogel to work under extremely secretive circumstances, allowing himself to be kept in the dark about the details."
"Perhaps it's better that way," Himmler said, his face impassive, his voice betraying no emotion whatsoever. "The less the good admiral knows, the less he can betray to the enemy."
"I've done some investigating of my own," Schellenberg said. "I know that Vogel has sent at least one new agent into England. He had to use the Luftwaffe for the drop, and the pilot who flew the mission was very cooperative." Schellenberg opened his briefcase and withdrew two copies of the same file, handing one to Hitler and the other to Himmler. "The agent's name is Horst Neumann. The Reichsfuhrer may remember that business in Paris some time back. An SS man was killed in a bar in Paris. Neumann was the man involved in that."
Himmler let the file fall from his hands onto the coffee table around which they were seated. "For the Abwehr to use such a man is a direct slap in the face to the SS and the memory of the man he murdered! It shows Vogel's contempt for the party and the Fuhrer."
Hitler was still reading the file and seemed genuinely interested in it. "Perhaps Neumann is simply the right man for the job, Herr Reichsfuhrer. Look at his dossier: born in England, decorated member of the Fallschirmjager, Knight's Cross, Oak Leaves. On paper a very remarkable man."
The Fuhrer was more lucid and reasonable than Schellenberg had seen him in some time.
"I agree," Schellenberg said. "Except for the one blight on his record, Neumann appears to be an extraordinary soldier."
Himmler cast a cadaverous glance at Schellenberg. He didn't appreciate being contradicted in front of the Fuhrer, no matter how brilliant Schellenberg might be.
"Perhaps we should make our move against Canaris now," Himmler said. "Remove him, place Brigadefuhrer Schellenberg in charge, and combine the Abwehr and the SD into one powerful intelligence agency. That way Brigadefuhrer Schellenberg can oversee Vogel's operation personally. Things seem to have a way of going awry where Admiral Canaris is involved."
Again, Hitler disagreed with his most trusted aide. "If Schellenberg's Russian friend is correct, this man Vogel seems to have the British on the run. To step in now would be a mistake. No, Herr Reichsfuhrer, Canaris remains in place for the time being. Perhaps he's doing something right for a change."
Hitler stood up.
"Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have other matters that demand my attention."
Two Mercedes staff cars were waiting at the curbside, engines running. There was an awkward moment while deciding whose car to take, but Schellenberg quietly relented and climbed in the back of Himmler's. He felt vulnerable when he wasn't surrounded by his security men, even when he was with Himmler. During the short drive, Schellenberg's armored Mercedes never strayed more than a few feet from the rear bumper of Himmler's limousine.
"An impressive performance as always, Herr Brigadefuhrer," Himmler said. Schellenberg knew his superior well enough to realize the remark was not meant as a compliment. Himmler, the second-most powerful man in Germany, was peeved at being contradicted in front of the Fuhrer.
"Thank you, Herr Reichsfuhrer."
"The Fuhrer wants the secret of the invasion so badly it is clouding his judgment," Himmler said matter-of-factly. "It is our job to protect him. Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Herr Brigadefuhrer?"
"Absolutely."
"I want to know what Vogel is playing at. If the Fuhrer won't let us do it from the inside, we'll have to do it from the outside. Put Vogel and his assistant Ulbricht under twenty-four-hour surveillance. Use every means at your disposal to penetrate Tirpitz Ufer. Also, find some way of getting a man into the radio center at Hamburg. Vogel has to communicate with his agents. I want someone listening to what's being said."
"Yes, Herr Reichsfuhrer."
"And, Walter, don't look so glum. We'll get our hands around the Abwehr soon enough. Don't worry. It will be all yours."
"Thank you, Herr Reichsfuhrer."
"Unless, of course, you ever contradict me in front of the Fuhrer again."
Himmler rapped on the glass partition so softly it was almost inaudible. The car pulled to the side of the curb, as did Schellenberg's, directly behind them. The young general sat motionless until one of his security men appeared at the door to accompany him on the ten-foot walk back to his own car.
26
LONDON