‘There are those, Berger, who are more concerned with people than ideas. They became sentimental too easily. I do not think you are one of them.’
‘No, Reichsfuhrer,’ Berger said.
‘Unfortunately, General Schellenberg is. That’s why I’m sending you with him to Lisbon. The man, Devlin, comes whether he likes it or not. I look to you to see to it.’
‘Is the Reichsfuhrer doubting General Schellenberg’s loyalty?’ Rossman asked.
‘He has been of great service to the Reich,’ Himmler said. ‘Probably the most gifted officer to serve under my command, but I’ve always doubted his loyalty to the Party. But there is no problem here, Rossman. He is too useful for me to discard at the present time. We must put all our energies into the preparation for Belle lie while Schellenberg busies himself with the Steiner affair.’ He turned to Berger. ‘You’d better be off.’
‘Reichsfuhrer.’
Berger clicked his heels and turned away. When he was halfway across the hall, Himmler called, ‘Show me what you can do, SturmbannFuhrer.’
Berger had the flap of his holster open, turned with incredible speed, arm extended. There was a fresco of knights on the far wall done in medieval style in plaster. He fired three times very fast and three heads disintegrated. The shots echoed through the hall as he replaced his weapon.
‘Excellent,’ Himmler said.
Schellenberg was already on his way. He was good himself, maybe as good as Berger, but that wasn’t the point. In the hall he retrieved his greatcoat and cap, was sitting in the rear of the Mercedes when Berger joined him five minutes later.
‘Sorry if I’ve kept you waiting, General,’ he said as he got in.
‘No problem,’ Schellenberg said and nodded to the driver who drove away. ‘Smoke if you like.’
‘No vices, I’m afraid,’ Berger said.
‘Really? Now that is interesting.’ Schellenberg turned up the collar of his greatcoat and leaned back in the corner pulling the peak of his cap over his eyes. ‘A long way to Berlin. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to get some sleep.’
He did just that. Berger watched him for a while, and then he also pulled up the collar of his greatcoat and turned into the corner.
Schellenberg’s office at Prinz Albrechtstrasse had a military camp bed in one corner for he often spent the night there. He was in the small bathroom adjacent to it shaving when his secretary, Use Huber, entered. She was forty-one at that time, already a war widow, a sensual, attractive woman in white blouse and black skirt. She had once been Heydrich’s secretary and Schellenberg, to whom she was devoted, had inherited her.
‘He’s here,’ she said.
‘Rivera?’ Schellenberg wiped soap from his face. ‘And Canaris?’
‘The Herr Admiral will be riding in the Tiergarten at ten o’clock as usual. Will you join him?’
Schellenberg frequently did, but when he went to the window and saw the powdering of snow in the streets he laughed. ‘Not this morning, thank you, but I must see him.’
Dedicated as she was to Schellenberg’s welfare, she had an instinct about things. She went and poured coffee from the pot on the tray she had put on his desk. ‘Trouble, General?’
‘In a way, my love.’ He drank some of the coffee and smiled, that ruthless, dangerous smile of his that made the heart turn over in her. ‘But don’t worry. Nothing I can’t handle. I’ll fill you in on the details before I leave. I’m going to need your help with this one. Where’s Berger, by the way?’
‘Downstairs in the canteen, last I saw of him.’
‘All right. I’ll see Rivera now.’
She paused at the door and turned. ‘He frightens me that one. Berger, I mean.’
Schellenberg went and put an arm around her. ‘I told you not to worry. After all, when has the great Schellenberg ever failed to manage?’
His self-mockery, as always, made her laugh. He gave her a squeeze and she was out of the door smiling. Schellenberg buttoned his tunic and sat down. A moment later the door opened and Rivera came in.
He wore a dark brown suit, an overcoat over one arm, a small man, sallow skin, black hair carefully parted. Just now he looked decidedly anxious.