Heroes by David Hagberg (books under 200 pages .TXT) 📕

a time now he had thought it possible that he could ease into a state of semiretirement. He had almost, but not quite, divorced himself from the day-to-day events of the Reich, except what he came directly into contact with through his office.

Maurer still brought his tidbits of gossip from time to time.

And Major Meitner (his friend had recently been promoted—only through attrition, he claimed) brought him news from Zossen.

Still, one part of his mind was able to shunt such details into a netherworld in which, although he was conscious of the facts, they were no cause for reaction.

In the mornings he went down to Eiche where he presided over his fools’ court. He had gotten through, finally, to Lieutenant Bender on three counts: The man no longer shouted as if everyone around him were deaf; the man made sure the office was tidy; and he had rapidly become very facile at coming up with lengthy reports on the barest of data.

Four mornings a week he presented his departmental briefings.

At first his presence caused quite a stir. But in the incredibly short period of only a couple of weeks, a torpor had seemed to settle on anyone who listened to him.

It was exactly the effect he had worked toward. He was more successful than he had hoped he could be.

That left him the entire weekend, as well as every afternoon, free. It was as close to retirement as he could be and yet still have a hand in the war effort.

Tomorrow, the 21st, he would have been at it exactly three weeks. And already he was beginning to get bored.

Valkyrie. Even the word was electrifying. He had been less than honest with Schrader. He hoped with all his might that Stauffenberg had been successful. He personally disliked the baron. He thought the man was a fool. But fool or no, Canaris hoped that Hitler now lay dead on the floor of his Wolfsschanze near Rastenberg.

Maurer’s music flowed around him—a fine, calming counterpoint to his thoughts. He had a sense of fatalism. What would come would come. Events seemed to be propelling him forward without any effort on his part.

At first it had been easy to drift with the current. But just lately the tide had seemed to grow very strong, and he was being accelerated faster than he wanted to be toward a fate he had no knowledge of.

“… asked, more cognac, Willi?” Kaulbars was saying over him.

Canaris looked up out of his thoughts. “I’m sorry, Vladi; I guess I was drifting.”

Kaulbars poured some of the fine French brandy, then poured some for Maurer, and finally some for himself.

Kasper and Sabine, the two dachshunds, raced into the drawing room, their entire bodies wagging in delight that Mohammed had finally let them free.

“Ah, there we are, my little darlings,” Canaris beamed, forgetting his dim thoughts for just a moment.

The telephone in the stair hall rang; once, twice, and just at the third ring, Mohammed answered it. Maurer had turned back to the piano and was about to resume playing, but Canaris held him off with a gesture.

Kaulbars seemed very deeply concerned, but Canaris didn’t really notice.

They could hear Mohammed speaking, but they could not make out the words. After a moment or two he appeared at the door.

“It is Herr Sack, Admiral.”

Canaris jumped up, his heart suddenly racing. Karl Sack, besides being an Army judge, was involved with the conspiracy.

In fact, it had been Sack who had intervened on Stauffenberg’s behalf when Canaris wanted the man certified as insane.

After what news Schrader had brought, Sack could only be calling for one reason.

“What is it, Wilhelm?” Kaulbars asked, getting up.

“Nothing,” Canaris mumbled. “Nothing.” He hurried out of the drawing room, Mohammed stepping aside for him. In the hall, he snatched the telephone from its alcove. “Yes?” he said.

“This is Canaris.”

“Herr Admiral, this is Karl Sack.”

“Yes, Karl. What is it?” Canaris said. He glanced over his shoulder. Maurer had come to the door.

“It is the Fiihrer. He is dead. It was a bomb. It exploded during a meeting near Rastenberg.” Canaris said nothing at first. So many thoughts raced through his mind. It was actually so. Hitler was dead. He felt the profoundest sense of relief, mixed with that of a terrible loss, and a feeling of dread.

Maurer stood in the doorway watching him. Just as the Gestapo were probably watching … and listening.

“Our Fiihrer,” he stammered softly. “He is dead?”

“Yes, Wilhelm. I just learned of it.”

“Dead? Good God, who did it … the Russians?”

There was a long pause on the line. Canaris could almost hear Sack thinking. The man knew exactly what Canaris had said, and why he had said it.

“It may be a rumor,” Sack said.

“God, I hope so!”

“I don’t know for sure. It is what I have heard,” Sack said.

“Where will you be later this afternoon?”

Canaris’ mind was moving rapidly. “My office, I think,” he said. “Try here first, and then my office.”

“I understand. I’ll see what else I can find out. If you hear anything …” Sack let it trail off.

“Of course,” Canaris said, and then there was a click on the line as Sack hung up.

Slowly Canaris put the handset down and he turned. Maurer was white-faced. Kaulbars was behind him.

“What is it?” Kaulbars asked.

“It was Karl Sack.”

“Yes,” Kaulbars said impatiently. “What news does he have?”

“It was our Ftihrer. Someone has evidently assassinated him.

In his Wolfsschanze near Rastenberg. A bomb, he said.”

“My God,” Maurer said softly.

“Has it been confirmed?” Kaulbars asked. His eyes were wide.

“Karl thought it had been.”

The three men stood looking at each other. Mohammed, who had gone back to the kitchen, stood with the Polish cook looking out the door. They, too, were openmouthed.

“What will you do, Willi?” Kaulbars finally asked.

“I think I shall go to my office. I may be needed there.”

“One cannot tell in which way fate will fall,” Maurer said vacantly, almost as if he were in a trance.

“Thank you, Uncle Mau, I think you are most certainly correct.

At this moment it