Heroes by David Hagberg (reading cloud ebooks TXT) 📗

the drawing room.

Canaris retrieved his suitcase and they went outside, down the stairs, and across to the big Mercedes staff car.

Baron von Volkersam, who had worked in the Abwehr but had later been transferred to the SD, was waiting at the car. He was in the uniform of an SS-Hauptsturmfuhrer. He came to attention and saluted. “Good afternoon, Herr Admiral.”

Canaris returned the salute. “So they sent you as well.”

Volkersam opened the rear door for Canaris. Schellenberg took his suitcase and put it in the trunk as Canaris got in. He climbed in with him. Volkersam got in the front seat. Their driver started the car immediately and they pulled away from the house.

Canaris looked back, hoping to catch a last glimpse of Motte or one of the other horses, but they were down the driveway and out on the street too fast.

He settled back in his seat for the ride into the city, but within a few minutes it was obvious they were not going into Berlin itself. They were skirting around to the north, up into Mecklenburg.

Canaris resisted the urge to ask Schellenberg where they were going. He would find out soon enough. Suffice it that he was not being taken to the labyrinth of cellars at Gestapo Headquarters on Prinz-Albrecht Strasse.

There was hope.

It took them nearly forty minutes to make it to the tiny town of Fiirstenberg an der Havel. They pulled up in the courtyard of the Frontier Police College. Maurer had mentioned that a number of the high-ranking officers implicated in the July 20th assassination attempt were being held here in the officers’ mess.

Schellenberg got out, and Canaris followed him as a disagreeable looking officer came down the walkway. He was an SS Brigadefiihrer, the same rank as Schellenberg.

The officer came stiffly to attention and saluted. Canaris idly returned it.

“Permit me to introduce the college commandant, Dr. Hans Trummler,” Schellenberg said. It was obvious he disliked the man.

Canaris was going to be neutral.

“Are you hungry, Herr Admiral? Have you eaten?” Trummler asked.

“I’m not hungry, but I might have a glass of wine,” Canaris said. He turned to Schellenberg. “Would you care to join me?”

Volkersam had stepped out of the car. But it was clear that Canaris’ invitation did not include him.

“Of course,” Schellenberg said.

“I’ll wait here,” Volkersam said.

Trummler led Canaris and Schellenberg across the courtyard and into the officers’ mess, where they sat at one of the tables.

There were a few other officers there. It was early dinner. Some of them Canaris recognized. Most, however, were strangers.

A waiter brought them a bottle of good Italian red wine and poured each of them a glass.

Schellenberg raised his in toast. “I wish you luck, Admiral.

Sincerely.”

Canaris nodded. “Thank you, Schellenberg,” he said. He sipped his wine. “It has been a long time since the thirties.”

“Yes, it has. A lot has happened. Much of it has been very good.”

Canaris had looked off. “Yes, there was much that was good.

Our Fiihrer was so … brave, in the old days.”

Schellenberg smiled. He too was thinking about the old days.

“When you get back to Berlin, there is a favor I would like you to do for me,” Canaris said. }

“If it is possible.”

“I would like to speak with Himmler.”

Schellenberg nodded.

“I believe he owes me an interview. A very brief interview.”

“I will ask,” Schellenberg said. He sipped his wine.

“Thank you.”

“What about your horses? Have you made arrangements?”

“Yes. Erwin Delbruck, my nephew, has agreed to take care of them … if I am here for very long. Otherwise my house staff will see to them.” “Yes, I see,” Schellenberg said.

They drank together in silence for a while. Canaris took out a cigar and went through the ritual of lighting it. The smoke tasted excellent at this moment. He only wished that he had been allowed to take his dogs with him, as he had to Burg Lauenstein.

But he had not thought to ask. Now it was too late.

“Do you remember what it was you were doing on the first of September in ‘39,” Canaris asked suddenly.

Schellenberg did not seem startled by the question. He smiled and nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I was home napping when the news came.”

“Were you excited?”

“A strange question.”

Canaris shrugged. “I was almost sad. Yet I was happy that it had begun at last.” He blinked. “It was a very long road back from Versailles.”

“Yes, it was,” Schellenberg said. He drank the rest of his wine. Canaris offered him more, but Schellenberg put his hand over his glass, then got up. “I must get back.”

Canaris looked up at him. “I love Germany very much, Walter.”

“I know that, Herr Admiral. We all know that.”

Canaris nodded. He felt very odd at the moment. He felt as if he could talk openly to Schellenberg, and yet he knew everything he said could and would be used against him. But it really didn’t matter. Nothing could matter if they already had the diaries from the safe at Zossen.

“Be careful to steer clear of the kind of trouble I’ve gotten myself into,” he warned.

“I will,” Schellenberg said.

Canaris got to his feet. He and Schellenberg looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and then they shook hands.

“I have no animosity for you, Walter.”

“I am happy to hear that, Admiral. I have always admired you.”

“Goodbye.”

“Auf wiedersehen,” Schellenberg said, and he turned and walked off.

Canaris remained standing until Schellenberg was gone; then “IS

the looked around the officers’ mess, picked up his wineglass, md offered a silent toast.

Several of the officers raised their glasses in toast, but Dthers turned away. It didn’t matter, Canaris thought. From this joint on, nothing mattered. His fate was in someone else’s lands.

/ think you’re out of your fuckin’ gourd. I think your head is firmly planted up your ass.

Someone had come by a few minutes earlier and had sold the younger man a small plastic packet of white powder. The older man figured it was cocaine.

Let me tell you something. You might be a Tom Terrific bullshit artist, but you don’t know