‘What a beauty.’
Da Gama, Conde at his shoulder, opened a file. ‘I’ll just give you approximate dimensions. Length sixty-three feet, height twenty, wingspan a hundred and four. The twin engines are Pratt and Whitney, twelve hundred horsepower each. Cruising speed a hundred and eighty miles an hour. Remarkably long range. Without freight it is possible to fly for four thousand miles before the need to refuel. I can’t think of another aircraft that could do this.’
‘Neither can I,’ Romero told him and got up. ‘You can take us back now.’
As they scrambled into the motor boat da Gama tried the usual tack. ‘Of course, a number of people are interested.’
The motor boat pulled away and Romero said, ‘Drop the sales pitch, my friend, just draw up the contract. I’ll give you my lawyer’s name, we sign tomorrow and you’ll receive a cheque for your asking price. Satisfied?’
Da Gama looked astonished. ‘But of course, Senor.’
Romero took out a cigarette and accepted a light from Noval. He looked back at the Catalina and blew out a long plume of smoke.
‘Looks like we’re in business, boys,’ he said.
Baron Oswald von Hoyningen-Heune was Minister to the German Legation in Lisbon. An aristocrat and career diplomat of the old school, he was no Nazi and, like most of his staff, was thankful to be as far away from Berlin as possible. Initially wary of the strange Spaniard who was a Hauptsturmfuhrer in the SS, and resigned to following orders from Berlin, he had been pleasantly surprised, had taken to Romero.
He rose to greet him now as the Spaniard entered his office. ‘My dear Romero, it went well?’
‘Couldn’t have been better. Da Gama will be in touch with the lawyer you gave me. You provide the funding and we conclude tomorrow. I’ll need to speak to Captain Ritter at Abwehr Headquarters at once, by the way.’
‘Of course.’ The Baron reached for the red secure phone on his desk and placed the call. ‘It shouldn’t take long.’ He stood up. ‘Cognac?’
‘Why not?’
Romero lit a cigarette and sat on one of the sofas. The baron handed him a glass and sat opposite. ‘All very intriguing, this business.’
‘And also highly secret.’
‘But of course. I’m not prying. In fact, I’d rather not know.’ He raised his glass. ‘But I’ll drink to your success anyway.’
At that moment the red phone rang. Romero said, ‘With your permission?’
‘But of course. I’ll leave you to it.’
The Baron went out and Romero picked up the phone. ‘Hans, is that you?’
‘Who else?’ Ritter said. ‘How did it go?’
‘Perfect,’ Romero told him. ‘A superb aircraft. I couldn’t be more pleased. Tell the Admiral we’re on our way.’
Ritter knocked on the door and went in. Canaris was drinking tea, one of the dachshunds on his lap. He looked up.
‘What is it, Hans?’
‘Romero has just spoken to me from Lisbon, Herr Admiral. The Catalina is perfect and the sale will be concluded tomorrow.’
‘Excellent.’ Canaris nodded. ‘Do an additional report bringing everything up to date and I’ll make an appointment for us to see the Fiihrer.’
‘At once, Herr Admiral.’
As Ritter limped to the door, Canaris called, ‘Oh, and Hans.’
‘Yes, Herr Admiral?’
‘We’ll take Muller with us.’
The summons came sooner than they had expected and took them to the Chancellery for an appointment at ten o’clock that night. They picked up Muller at the Univer- sity on the way and the news that he was to meet the Fiihrer shocked him completely.
When they reached the reception area of Hitler’s suite the aide on duty rose to greet them. ‘I understand you have a report for the Fiihrer, Herr Admiral.’
‘That’s right,’ Canaris said.
The aide held out his hand. ‘He would like to read it before seeing you.’
‘Of course.’
Canaris gave him the file; the aide opened the door and went in. Canaris nodded to the other two and they sat down.
Muller was trembling slightly and Canaris said, ‘Are you all right?’
‘For God’s sake, how do you expect me to feel, Admiral. This is the Fiihrer we’re talking about. What do I say?’