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

mumbled, turning away. “And I naturally thought I would be returning.” He turned back. “Don’t ask what is in the books. Don’t look at them. Just remove them from the safe and bring them to me.”

Meitner nodded heavily. “Yes, sir.” He looked at the combination.

The diaries contained everything. The business with Schrader and Freytag-Loringhoven had only been the end-result of years of discussion. Names. Dates. Places. But the books had always had an aura of history to them that fascinated Canaris. He realized now that the aura had been more like the open flame, and he the moth. Deadly.

“There is another thing you must do for me,” Canaris said, shaking off the darkness.

Meitner looked up.

“Do you remember our friend Dieter Schey?” Canaris had been thinking about him a lot just lately.

“In America? At Oak Ridge? He sent the ruined film over.”

Canaris had to smile. He nodded. “The one. I must know what has happened to him.”

“I have heard nothing, Herr Admiral.”

With luck, Schey was dead or captured by now. But Canaris had to know for sure. Schey was the one man who had the potential knowledge to change the course of the war. He was, perhaps, the most dangerous man on earth.

Meitner put his cup down and pocketed the safe combination.

“I don’t know what I’ll be able to find, but I will try.”

“That is all I ask, Hans. That is all,” Canaris said. He walked him to the door and then downstairs.

“There can be no delays, Hans. The diaries first, then information about Schey. When you have both, return here.”

They shook hands at the front door. Meitner was very tense.

“There is nothing I can say to convince you to leave, meiner Admiral?”

“The same argument you would have me use on you.”

A faint smile passed Meitner’s lips, and he shook his head.

“With luck I will return this evening.”

“Then good luck and Godspeed, Hans.”

Meitner paused on the front step, then turned back. “I’m stepping out of bounds … but I was wondering if you would like me to get a message to Algeciras?”

Canaris shook his head. “Under no circumstances.” He would not have her name tainted.

“I understand, sir,” Meitner said. He turned and left.

Another car was just coming up the drive when Meitner left in his. Canaris’ stomach tightened, until he realized it was Helmut Maurer.

The car pulled up and parked at the foot of the stairs. Maurer got out and came around.

“Uncle Mau,” Canaris said when his very old friend and neighbor came up the stairs.

“You look terrible, Willi.”

“Is that why you came so early? To tell me that?”

“No,” Maurer said. He was dressed in civilian clothes. Like Meitner, he appeared to have gotten no sleep last night. He seemed very harried. “Nor can I stay. I must get right back.”

“What is it?” Canaris asked, alarmed now.

“They’ve arrested Georg Hansen. He’s at Prinz-Albrecht Strasse this very moment.”

Hansen had been chief of AMT/Ausland Abwehr, Section I.

But more importantly, he had been one of the chief conspirators planning Hitler’s death. He was mentioned prominently in Canaris’ diaries. Conversely, he was in a perfect position to mention Canaris’ name and have his story believed. This was terrible.

“I thought so,” Maurer said, reading much of Canaris’ thoughts from his face. “You are going to have to leave. Immediately.

They will almost certainly arrest you. Today, perhaps tomorrow.

But very soon.”

He heard a horse whinny—it sounded like Motte—in the back, and his heart went out to his animals. To all of them.

“Do you hear me, Willi? Or has something struck you deaf and dumb? You must leave!”

Canaris shook his head. “No, Uncle Mau, I will not leave. I did not plan to assassinate our Fiihrer, and I am glad that the plot failed. Do you understand that?”

“It will not matter! Don’t you understand?”

“You must do something for me.”

“I am trying! Verdammt!” Maurer said with great feeling.

They still stood on the porch. He came closer to Canaris and lowered his voice. “There already have been executions. There will be more. Many more.”

Canaris was outwardly unmoved.

“In the name of God, Willi, you must save yourself.”

Canaris smiled, and reached out and touched Maurer’s arm. “I am more interested in saving Germany.”

Maurer started to say something else, but he clamped it off.

Instead, he looked deeply into Canaris’ eyes and sagged as if some of the air had been let out of him. He shook his head.

“That’s better,” Canaris said. “Now, I need some information.”

“Yes?”

“There is an underground group in Berlin. Run by a man named Dannsiger. They help Allied fliers, I believe.”

“They were smashed last night.”

Canaris had been prepared to go into much greater detail so that Maurer would understand what he was talking about. This revelation stunned him.

“What is it, Willi?” Maurer said, alarmed. “Good God, don’t tell me you were involved with them as well?”

“No,” Canaris said. It meant there was no longer any sure way in which to contact Dulles in Bern. At least no way which Canaris was aware of. The RSHA would perhaps know some of the conduits. But he could not ask Maurer that. He simply could not ask the man to betray his country.

“What about Dannsiger’s group? What’s your connection?”

“One of my people infiltrated it some years ago. I wanted to get him out. I don’t suppose anyone survived?”

“There may have been one or two escapes, from what I gather. One of our people who acted as an informer, then as a lure, was killed. He claimed an American spy was in the group.

We think he may have murdered our man. He’s still at large. But he’ll be found. Unless he has help.”

Hope had flickered for a moment, but then it had died. One or two men on the run could offer no help. Even if one of them was an American spy.

“I can arrange to get you out of the country,” Maurer was saying. “I spoke with Kaulbars. He believes we can get you to Sweden. But you would have to leave now, this afternoon.

Before light tomorrow you would cross.”

Canaris shook his head. “No,