Heroes, David Hagberg [me reader .txt] 📗

Admiral. Perplexed about your work, perplexed about your … loyalty. But that is nothing besides the hurt he is now feeling. He feels he has been betrayed by you.”

The atmosphere in the room was very thick. Did they know about Oster and Dohnanyi and everyone else? About the conspiracy? The diaries in the safe here at Maybach?

“In what way have I betrayed my Fiihrer?” Canaris asked. His voice came from a long way off.

Reitlinger reached out and turned Erika’s photograph around so he could see it. He smiled as he looked up. There was a gold cap on one of his teeth.

“Has Erika ever been to Spain?”

“A few times.”

“Algeciras?” Reitlinger asked, a note of triumph in his voice.

Canaris drew a blank.

“I believe the lady’s name is Dona Marielle Alicia.”

Canaris leaped up, spilling his drink. He reached out across the desk and grabbed a handful of Reitlinger’s black tunic. A row of ribbons came off as Canaris hauled the man to his feet. “You bastard! You miserable little sneaking son-of a-bitch!”

Canaris wasn’t a strong man, but he had Reitlinger up on the desk and his hands around the man’s throat when Meitner burst into the room.

“Herr Admiral!”

Reitlinger was struggling wildly, all the while mewling like a frightened animal.

Algeciras. It was the one important secret of his life—the one thing sacrosanct from the German High Command, from even the Fuhrer—but they knew about it. The bastards had trampled all over it; they had handled it, fondled it like perverts, looked at it like dirty voyeurs.

Meitner was there, and although he wasn’t much stronger than Canaris, he managed to pry Reitlinger away. They both fell back, spittle drooling down Reitlinger’s chin, his eyes wild as Canaris remained hunched over his desk, his entire body shaking.

“You’re insane!” Reitlinger cried, finally getting his voice.

“You’re certifiable. You are crazy.”

Canaris straightened up and came around the desk. It was a real effort just to walk. There was a constriction around his chest that made him breathe shallowly. He knew he was hyperventilating, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Reitlinger stumbled against Meitner in an effort to back away from Canaris.

“If you show your face around here again, Herr Obergruppenfuhrer, I will have you shot.”

Meitner had grabbed Reitlinger’s arm to keep the man from tripping over his own feet. Canaris had stopped in the middle of the room, and when the Reichs Chancellery officer realized he was no longer in any immediate danger, he straightened up, pulling away from the captain.

“You have made a mistake, treating me this way,” Reitlinger said.

Canaris’ heart was hammering, but he forced himself to slow down. To measure his words. “It is you who have made the mistake. You and your contemptible little bunch of voyeurs.” He turned to his aide. “I want you to call the Fuhrerbunker. I wish to see the Fiihrer this evening, or at the latest “by morning.”

“Jawohl, Herr Admiral,” Meitner said, coming to attention.

He was playing the game perfectly. Thank God for that much at least, Canaris thought.

Meitner turned and marched out of the office. He left the door open so that Reitlinger could hear him on the telephone demanding a circuit to the city, “You have overstepped your bounds, you bastard,” Canaris said. “Whatever you may have heard, I am still the chief of the Abwehr. You have played a little game with my private life.

Wait until you see what I can do with yours.”

Reitlinger sidled to the doorway. He didn’t look as certain as he had when he had first barged in.

“Leave Zossen now, Herr Obergruppenfuhrer. You and I will be in touch again. I assure you.”

“You’ll soon be cut down a peg or two … you aristocrat,” Reitlinger said, puffing up. He turned and scurried through the outer office, barely glancing at Meitner who was still on the phone, and then he was gone.

Meitner put down the phone and came into the office with Canaris. ‘ —^

“Close the door, Hans,” Canaris said tiredly. He went to the curtains behind his desk and pulled them open. There was a mural on the concrete wall depicting a Spanish mountain scene.

It was not a very good painting, but Canaris could imagine that his office was in the summer mountains.

“There wasn’t time even to get our own operator,” Meitner said. “Bomb damage …”

Canaris didn’t turn around. “There is a lot to do now, Hans, but none of it will be much fun.” His voice was soft, his lisp more pronounced than usual. He felt very old. “None of it is much fun any longer, you know. Like in the old days.”

“What is it?” Meitner asked. He had a real feeling for Canaris.

Canaris turned around. His color was shocking, almost cyanotic, and there didn’t seem to be any muscle tone in his face.

Meitner rushed across to the sideboard, where he quickly splashed some cognac in a fresh glass. He looked over his shoulder at the admiral. He expected the man to collapse at any moment.

He brought the drink over. Canaris sipped it, his hands shaking so badly that Meitner had to help him hold the snifter.

“The war is lost, you know,” Canaris said.

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

Canaris looked up at him. “Save yourself. Your family. Go to Switzerland, or Portugal. It won’t be long before it’s over.”

Meitner shook his head.

Canaris smiled sadly. “You, too?”

“No matter what has been done, it still is my Germany. And you are still my admiral.”

“The Abwehr will probably be dismantled before long.

Schellenberg and his people have become very powerful.”

“Why don’t you return to Algeciras?”

“No. There is too much to do here.”

“The war is lost. You said so yourself. What else is there to do?”

“Make sure it’s not prolonged.”

“Sir?”

Canaris had gotten control of himself. He straightened up, put his drink down, and adjusted his tie. His dark uniform looked bedraggled. The cuffs and collar were threadbare, and there were several undefinable stains on the lapels.

“Have Sergeant Brunner bring my car around, would you, Hans?”

Meitner looked at his watch. It was