This terrifying possibility seemed to shrink Hitler in his very clothes.
"I want every double shot immediately!" he cried. "Such a risk cannot
be tolerated!"
Heydrich replied very softly. "MY Fuhrer, perhaps YOu might reconsider?
Our political doubles represent a tremendous investment of time and
resources. I believe they will ar with Russia. You prove invaluable to
us in the coming w could remove the danger simply by placing them under
my direct command."
Hitler's black eyes bored relentlessly into Heydrich's face, probing for
disloyalty- After a full minute of silence, he said, ,Permission
granted." Then he added, "For now."
tar ri I tu an tried Heydrich s ed in surp se as Hit er med d hu uP the
frozen path. "MY Fuhrer!" he calledhastening up the slope after him.
"Nothing can stop us now! Failure is not a possibility!"
Hitler paused twenty meters from the Berghof- In a flat
6 pie d,
voice suddenly drained of anger, he said, "I am ase Heydrich.
When Barbarossa is completed, I shall not forget you. Once Russia's
vast lands lie under our control, I will need a man of iron to rule
her-a Reich-protector I can trustAre you that man, Heydrich?"
"As you command, my Fuhrer!"
Without a word Hitler turned and marched up the steps to the Berghof
Heydrich stood motionless in the snow. The promise of a
Reich-Protectorship made his heart pound, but a darker dread still ate
at his confidence. in the face of Hitler's wrath, he had quailed from
voicing his deepest doubt about Plan Mordred-his nagging suspicion that
the Fuhrer's English "sympathizers"-whoever they might be-were actually
I ure Germany into a for Britain nation, any human effort.
But w] it? The game had to be played sure that his part ran smoothly.
From this moment forward, Heydrich existed almost without sleep, without
food. The Fuhrer had extended the light of power to him, and he moved
through his days like he was sworn to a holy quest. His allies in that
quest were an embittered Russian expatriate, and ' a one-eyed German
agent living in the heart of beleaguered London. All @ lived only that
a fat English warrior and a shy English king might die.
In Hitler's small study on the second floor of the Berghof, Rudolf Hess
anxiously awaited his Fuhrer. Dressed in his gray uniform, he sat
behind a desk littered with architectural plans and sketches. Most of
the sketches were by Hitler; Hess recognized the cramped, untutored
style. The building plans, though, had been drafted by Albert Speer.
Stronglined and well-proportioned, the great avenue of the Fuhrer's new
Berlin stretched across the desk like a blueprint of the future.
The magnificent Imperial Palace, the Triumphal Arch that would dwarf the
one in Paris@l seemed the natural fruit of the labor of the new Reich, a
mighty city built to endure for a thousand years. Or so it see@ed on
those happier occasions when Hess had studied these plans in the past.
He would never look at them in quite the same way again.
The Party and the Reich that he had once viewed as a united force-an
unstoppable juggernaut destined for immortality-he now saw as a fragile
alliance of ambitious men held together only by their common fear of
Adolf Hitler. Since Hess's momentous meeting with the Fuhrer in
January, both Heinrich Himmler and Hermann Goring had deduced the real
reason for Hess's training flights. At Gestapo headquarters in Berlin,
Hess had conducted a conversation with Reichsfiihrer Himmler that could
only be described as a war of nerves.
The smell of treason had hung in the room like cordite. As the two men
spoke in measured tones, Hess had realized that Himmler's office was, in
every sense of the word, a battlefield. In the narrow confines of four
walls, words became bullets, names flashed like tracers, and the
silences were mined as lethally as the sands around Tobruk. Himmler had
claimed that the British would never make peace with Hitler, but might
make peace with Germany if he himself sat in the seat of power.
Then-as Hess's rage boiled over-Himmler had disguised his power grab by
claiming it would be a mere strategy to trick the British into making
peace. Hess had not been fooled. Behind Himmler's bland face and
pince-nez glasses, Hess had glimpsed a power lust more sickening than
the greed of any Jew. He had left the Prinz-Albrechtstrasse with no
different, if The conversation wi only in terms of style. Himmler had
begun his interrogation on an obscure pretext, and arrived at his main
point only after circumlocuting a veritable maze of half-truths and
theolike the fighter nes- Goring charged in with guns blazing, ace he
was. in substance, however, Goring's assessment of the British position
had been remarkably close to Himmler's-no peace with Germany, ever.
Unlike Himmler, though, the corpulent Luftwaffe chief had not suggested
treason. Hess recalled Goring's last words with grudging admiration: If
the Fuhrer wants to invade Russia now, it is our duty to stand by him to
the end, whether the reward be ambrosia or cyanide.
It's war now, Hess, war to the bloody end!
Yet Goring's opinion of Germany's future had been plain to see.
He had pronounced Hess's intended peace mission to England suicidal,
then declared that if HitIfr attacked Russia before finishing Britain,
all was lost. Hess thanked God that
nded on
the @iihrer was in good health. If the future depe men like Himmler and
Goring, the Fatherland was indeed lost.
"Rudi?" said a soft voice. e doorway of the Hess turned quickly.
Silhouetted in the study, Adolf Hitler stood watching him intently.
Hess tried to read the black eyes, but they were, as ever, inscrutable.
Regarding Hess from the door, Hitler felt a strange, almost paternal
sadness. Hess's broad shoulders, strong jaw, and high Aryan forehead
fanned the flames of pride in his breast. The resolute eyes looked back
at him with a frankness that seemed to say, "I am ready for anything!
Command and I shall obey!"
But was Hess ready for anything? Was he ready for Plan Mordred?
Explaining the operational details of the mission would be easy.
Hess would admire the plan for its boldness and intricacy. Technical
details fascinated him. But the rest"My Fuhrer," Hess said abruptly, "I
am curious about something. It's been two weeks since I informed you of
Reichsfiihrer Himmler's seditious conversation, yet nothing seems to
have been done. Are you delaying punishment for some reason?"
Hitler smiled wanly. "Remember the old proverb, Rudi?
Better the devil you know than the one you don't?"
"But Himmler could betray you at any moment!"
Hitler sighed. "Sooner or later, Rudi, he will probably try.
it is a delicate balancing act I perform. It has @en from the
beginning. It's the same for ill men of power. Churchill, Stalin,
Mussolini, Roosevelt-no one is immune. Himmler's SS is powerful, old
friend, too powerful to alienate or ignore. But it is also c
orrupt.
Himmler fears Heydrich-his subordinate-yet he thinks because Heydrich
has a little Jewish blood, he can be controlled by blackmail."
Hitler's eyes flickered like black stars. "Don't worry, Rudi, I have my
own controls over Reichsfiihrer Himmler. His personal adjutant happens
to be Heydrich's man, and Heydrich is my man. One word from me, night
or day, and Himmler dies.
But for the present-while he is useful-he lives."
Hess looked unconvinced.
"I expected it to be Goring," Hitler confided. "I always thought him
weaker than Himmler."
Hess nodded. "I must confess that I thought-I hoped@ the same thing. I
never liked Goring. He's a braggart . and a libertine. But he is also
loyal. For the time being, at least."
You're so straightforward, old friend, Hitler thought. Perhaps that is
why I trust you. Heydrich explained it all so well, made it seem so
easy and mechanical But in truth it isn't. The English fanatics who
will die afterfiring bullets into the brains of their leaders mean
nothing. They are ma chines, like tanks or rockets. But you, Hess, are
the closest thing to a friend I have left. How can I explain to you
that the same rules which apply to five communist fanatics also apply to
you? Yet somehow I must. For England must be neutralized.
Churchill must die.
And contrary to what Heydrich boasts, failure is always a possibility.
in the event-God forbid-that something does go wrong, my personal envoy
and confidant cannot be captured on British soil. For in your head you
carry the secrets of BarbarossaIf the "impossible" happens-if the
fanatics miss their targets, if they lose their nerve, if they're
caught, if the mission is blown and the great gamble is all for
nothing-my messenger will I have to die. You, Hess, will have to die.
And, quite simply, there will be no one there to kill you. No Reinhard
Heydrich-no steely-eyed SS officer sworn to shoot without question at my
order You will have to do it yourself. Can you do that, I wonder?
You once proclaimed to @a multitude that I, Adolf Hitler, was
GermanyWill You die for Germany, old friend? Will you die for me?
With his right hand on Hess's powerful shoulder, Hitler looked deeply
into the bright, worshipful eyes. "Rudi," he said softly, "there are
two possibilities One hour later Rudolf Hess rose and marched to the
door of the study. He turned and placed his right fist against his
heart. "My Fuhrer," he said, "to die for Germany is no more than we ask
of any soldier. In the most extreme circumstance I shall sacrifice
myself with an unfaltering heart. My only regret is for my wife and
son." Hess paused for a moment, too full of emotion to speak. "Yes,"
he said at leng , "even they would understandDeutschland fiber Alles:
these words are our creed."
Hess took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "Do not let this
trouble you, my Fuhrer- We were never meant to fight the English, and
this is the solution Fate has provided us. You, Adolf Hitler, were sent
by God to free the world from the scourge of the Bolshevik and the Jew!
I believe that with all my heart. if my death were to bring our goal
one day closer, my life would not have been wasted. But I shall not
fail." Hess nodded solemnly. "I await your final orders.
Hell Hitler!" aliment. The Hitler felt a numbing jolt of profound lull
sight of Rudolf Hess, tall and resolute, his hard-muscled
right arm extended in the Nazi salute, moved him almost to tears.
This man, born to wear the German uniform, possessed a devotion far
deeper than loyalty, deeper than patriotism. As Hess turned and marched
through the study door, Adolf Hitler, his hands resting on the plans for
the world's youngest imperial city, realized that he had not asked the
ultimate sacrifice of his deputy or his friend-but his disciple.
B 0 0 K TWO TH AF d If ... the Jew conquers the nations of this world,
his crown will become the funeral wreath of humanity, and once again
this Janet, empty of mankind, will move p rough the ether as it did
thousands of years ago.
Eternal Nature inexorably revenges the transgressions of her laws,
Therefore, I believe today that I am acting in the sense of the Almighty
Creator-' BY warding off the Jews I am fighting for the Lord's work.
ADOLF HITLER, Mein KaMPf
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
2.04 A.m. Lufthansa Flight 417. South African Airspace
The German airliner shuddered against the increased drag of descent'
Hans Apfel took a deep breath and gripped the armrests tighter. The
announcement bell rang.
"Attention ladies and gentlemen," said a male voice.
"This is your captain speaking. We are now beginning our descent into
Jan Smuts International Airport. We expect to arrive on schedule.
The temperature is seventy-eight degrees Fahrenheit in Johannesburg.
There's been no rain for two weeks, and none expected soon. We hope,
you enjoy your stay in South Africa, and we appreciate your flying
Lufthansa. Danke Schdn."
"Nice change," Hauer remarked.
"What?" said Hans.
"The weather."
"What?"
"It's summer here, Hans. No snow. We've hardly had a break for three
weeks in Berlin."
"Oh. Sorry. I was thinking about the exchange. Have you settled on
the plan yet?"
Hauer nodded. "With our limited resources, there's really only one
option. We've got to find some place that's really open, but with
plenty of concealment for me. An empty football stadium would be ideal.
I can hide in the standsthe high ground-while you make the exchange on
the field.
You'll have two jobs. The first is acting."
"Acting?"
Hauer nodded. "You're going to be holding a grenade, and you've got to
act like you'll blow everyone to hell if they don't hand Ilse over as
soon as they touch the papers."
"I won't have to act," Hans said.
"I'm afraid you will. it won't be a live grenade. We won't have access
to one. We'll buy an empty one at an army surplus shop. The grenade is
just a prop to speed things along.
We want Ilse in your hands ten seconds after you hand the papers over."
"And my second job?"
"Running. As soon as you get Ilse, you'll start walking toward
preplanned cover. The kidnappers will have no intention of letting you
escape alive, of course. When you hear the first shots, you run like
hell."
"What's your job?"
Hauer made a pistol with his thumb and forefinger. "Suppressing fire.
The second you get Ilse clear of my line of fire, I start knocking
people down. The first shot you hear will be mine. I'll take out the
men on the field, plus anyone they may have covering the exchange
location."
Hans studied Hauer's face. "Can you do that?"
"I won't lie to you. Two snipers would be better. But I'm still one of
the best rifle shots-in Germany. I can do it."
Hans stared out of the small window at the stars hanging-2
in the African darkness. "Have you used this plan before?"
Hauer smiled faintly. "I've seen it used. Ten years ago I saw
terrorists use it successfully against the Cologne police."
"Oh."
The Lufthansa jet leaned sixty-five degrees to starboard, banking for
final approach. Hans gripped the armrests of his seat and stared
straight ahead. Hauer watched him silently, wishing he could reassure
his son more. At least he had spared Hans what he himself knew: that
the terrorists who had used his hostage-exchange plan had escaped the
Cologne football stadium only to be blown to pieces in a train station
an hour later. Escaping an exchange point with Ilse might not be too
difficult; escaping from South Africa was another thing altogether.
Hauer laid his callused hand over Hans's and squeezed tightly.
"We'll get her, boy," he said softly.
Hans looked over at his father, fils jaw resolute. "I'm ready.
But there's something I can't get out of my mind.
Who cut the throat of that Afrikaner who attacked Professor Natten-nan?
Why did he do it? And where did he go? Did he just disappear?'3
Hauer's face darkened. He knew exactly why the unknown killer had cut
the Afrikaner's throat, and if Hans opened the foil packet in his inside
coat pocket, he would know too. The killer had escaped with three pages
of the Spandau diary. At Hauer's orders the packet had remained hidden
for the duration of the flight. But sooner or later, Hans would have to
be told the truth. Otherwise he would find it out for himself.
"Hans," he said, "I've got a feeling we may meet our elusive killer
sooner than you think."
2.2il A.M. El Al Flight 331: Over Tai Aviv, Israel
The El'Al 747 flew a lazy racetrack pattern over Ben-Gurion eet, Airport
at a comfortable twenty-eight thousand f One Of a dozen tiny blips on
the emerald air-traffic screens belowAn equipment malfunction on an
Eastern whisperedt on runway 3 had caused a delay, and until the men who
monitored the skies over Tel Aviv granted clearance, Professor Natterman
and his reticent Jewish companion would have to wait in the sky along
with two hundred and seventy other impatient travelers.
"What are these mysterious things we need to pick up?"
Natterman asked. "Weapons? Explosives?"
ess. "We will need weapStern looked out at the darkn them in South
ons," he murmured. "But we'll have to get Africa, not Israel. I
arranged it all from your cabin."