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agreed to this meeting only if nothing passed between us and there was no form of physical contact as well.”

Canaris managed to smile. “It is good to see you, Hans. It goes well with you?”

“It was very difficult to get here. I am acting as a messenger for the Fiihrer. He wanted me … he ordered me to Salzburg.

To speak with our field commanders. But the front is no longer there. I cannot get through.”

“Is it bad … in Berlin?”

Meitner swallowed and nodded. “I found out that you were here … I came as soon as I possibly could. My God, you are going to have to leave here.”

“Tell me about Berlin? Are you still at Zossen?”

“You must listen to me, meiner Admiral, your diaries have been found.”

“Yes, I know that. That fool Stawitzky has twenty pages that were in Osier’s safe. He thinks he knows it all. But he can’t prove a thing.”

“No. Listen to me. There is a lack of office space in Berlin because of the constant bombing, so Buhle moved into your old offices at May bach II.”

“Walter Buhle?” Canaris asked.

“Yes. He’s head of Army staff at OKW,” Meitner said.

“They found your safe. It has been opened, and they have found all your diaries.”

Now Canaris understood what his old friend was trying to tell him, and suddenly he could feel the chill of the grave. It also bothered him that despite Meitner’s close association with a condemned man, he had been promoted and apparently still held the favor of the Fiihrer himself.

“General Buhle is a good man,” he said.

_ “Yes, a very loyal German soldier,” Meitner said. “He was at Wolfsschanze, standing not too far from the Fiihrer when the bomb exploded. He was severely injured. He has no love for you.”

“What has he done with the diaries? Is he spreading filthy gossip?”

Meitner looked at Canaris with a new understanding, and a great sadness. “He has turned them over to SS-Brigadefuhrer Rattenhuber.”

| “I don’t know him. Who is he, Gestapo?”

I “

” Rattenhuber is head of the security force protecting our Fiihrer.

I am sure he has by now turned them over to the RSHA. Either to Kaltenbrunner or Miiller.”

Canaris turned away to look again over the fence toward the woods. “This is the end then,” he mumbled.

“I have come to take you away.”

Canaris turned back and managed a smile. “You still do not understand, do you?”

“What, meiner Admiral? What are you saying to me? I think I can get you out of here. But right now, this morning. It will be very dangerous, but what are the alternatives?”

What indeed were the alternatives, Canaris wondered. And what or who, exactly, was Hans Meitner? If he was a friend here to help, his was a misguided friendship. By now it was too late for help. If Meitner was a spy, reporting Canaris’ every word, then, too, no help was possible.

Canaris looked beyond Meitner toward the bunker. Perhaps he would be shot down trying to escape. That would eliminate the need for a trial.

He brightened. A trial. Even Kaltenbrunner could not order the execution of the former head of the Abwehr without a trial.

“If you want to help me, Hans, you can do one thing.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“Get me an attorney. The best around.”

“I don’t understand,” Meitner said, shaking his head.

“If they have found my diaries, then they know that I thought about a Germany without Hitler. But only thought about it. They cannot execute a man for that. A good attorney will get me off.”

“Herr Admiral, I have come here today to get you away. I have a car, a driver, and two very loyal Wehrmacht soldiers.

They were in the Brandenburg Division … in the old days. We can get out of here. Perhaps make it to Switzerland. Perhaps we can find an airplane and get to Spain. To Algeciras.”

“Algeciras?”

“Yes, if we can find an airplane. But Switzerland will be easier. We can wait out the war there. It will not be much longer.”

“You would give it up? You would give up Germany?”

It was Meitner’s turn to look away. He gazed over the fence toward the forest. “Germany is finished. After the war there will be time to return and rebuild.” He looked back. “You cannot know how it is in the Reichs Bunker, Herr Admiral.

Every day it grows worse. He is a madman. He has deluded himself into believing that somehow God will do a miracle for him. He keeps talking about the parting of the Red Sea. And he’s hatched plots to assassinate Roosevelt and Churchill.”

“Is there no hope?”

“For us to win the war? No, of course not.”

“No, Hans, for me?”

The question seemed to have a great impact on Meitner. He swallowed hard again and glanced up toward the guards by the bunker. “The car is directly in front. My people are just inside the Kommandantur Arrest. We will walk back together.”

“What about my guards?”

Meitner patted his coat pocket. “I have a weapon. Once inside I will pull it out and shoot them. In the confusion I will give you my overcoat; we will step outside, cross the walk, and get into the car. My guards will be right behind us.”

Canaris was ashamed that he had suspected his old friend.

“You would do that?”

“We will be out of the main gate and gone before the alarm is sounded. They will not come after-us.”

“No, Hans,” Canaris said after only a slight hesitation.

“No?”

Canaris shook his head, then turned and started slowly back toward the bunker.

Meitner came after him. “What is the matter with you, meiner Admiral? They will kill you here.”

“I think not.”

“Parts of your diaries were shown to the Fiihrer. He went into one of his fits. It was terrible.”

Canaris looked at his friend. “What did he say?”

“He is convinced that there is a huge plot against him and that you are one of its ringleaders. He is certain that you have all stabbed him—and Germany—in the back. We would be winning the war now if you and your

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