‘I agree, my Fuhrer.’
‘No, it’s obvious that the Pas de Calais will be the target, any idiot can see that.’
Himmler said carefully, ‘And yet you still intend to confirm Rommel as Commander of Army Group B with full responsibility for the Atlantic Wall defences?’
‘Why not?’ Hitler said. ‘A brilliant soldier, we all know that. He’ll have to accept my decision in this matter with good grace and follow orders as will Canaris.’
‘But will they, my Fuhrer?’
‘Do you doubt their loyalty?’ Hitler asked. ‘Is that what you are implying?’
‘What can I say, my Fuhrer? The Admiral has not always been as enthusiastic towards the cause of National Socialism as I would like. As for Rommel.’ Himmler shrugged. ‘The people’s hero. Such popularity easily leads to arrogance.’
‘Rommel will do as he is told,’ Hitler said serenely. ‘I am well aware, as are you, of the existence of those extremists in the Army who would destroy me if they could. I am also aware that it is a distinct possibility that Rommel is in sympathy with such aims. At the right moment there will be a noose waiting for all such traitors.’
‘And richly deserved, my Fuhrer.’
Hitler got up and stood with his back to the fire. ‘One must learn how to handle these people, Reichs-Fuhrer. That’s why I insisted they join me for breakfast at seven. As you know they’re staying in Rennes overnight. This means they must rise at a rather early hour to get here in time. I like to keep people like this slightly unbalanced. I find it pays.’ ‘Brilliant, my Fuhrer.’ ‘And before you go, remember one thing.’ Hitler’s face was very calm and Himmler stood up. ‘Since I took power, how many attempts on my life? How many plots?’
Himmler for once was caught. Tm not sure.’ ‘At least sixteen,’ Hitler said. ‘And this argues divine intervention. The only logical explanation.’ Himmler swallowed hard. ‘Of course, my Fuhrer.’ Hitler smiled benignly. ‘Now be off with you. Try and get a little sleep and I’ll see you at breakfast.’ He turned to look down at the fire and Himmler left quickly.
The English Channel was fogged in for most of the way to Cap de la Hague and Asa took advantage of it, using the cover, making good time, finally turning in towards the French coast just after three.
He called Chernay over the radio. ‘Chernay, Falcon here, what’s the situation?’
In the radio room Schellenberg sprang from his chair and crossed to Leber. The Flight Sergeant said, ‘We’ve had some clearance with wind but not enough. Ceiling zero one minute then it clears to maybe a hundred feet, then back again.’
‘Is there anywhere else to go?’ Asa demanded.
‘Not round here. Cherbourg’s totally closed in.’
Schellenberg took the mike. ‘Asa, it’s me. Are you all there?’
‘We sure as hell are. Your Colonel Steiner, Devlin and me, only we don’t seem to have any place to go.’
‘What’s your fuel position?’
‘I figure I’m good for about forty-five minutes. What I’ll do is stooge around for a while. Keep on the line and let me know the second there’s any kind of improvement.’
Leber said, Til have the men light runway flares, General, it might help.’
Til take care of that,’ Schellenberg told him. ‘You stay on the radio,’ and he hurried out.
After twenty minutes, Asa said, ‘This is no good. Sit tight and I’ll give it a shot.’
He took the Lysander down, his wheel spots on, and the fog enveloped him, just as it had done at Shaw Place. At six hundred feet he pulled the column back into his stomach and went up, coming out of the mist and fog at around a thousand.
The stars still glistened palely and what was left of the moon was low, dawn streaking the horizon. Asa called, ‘It’s hopeless. Suicide to try and land. I’d rather put her down in the sea,’
‘The tide’s out, Captain,’ Leber answered.
‘Is that a fact? How much beach do you get down there?’
‘It runs for miles.’
‘Then that’s it. It’s some sort of a chance anyway.’
Schellenberg’s voice sounded. ‘Are you sure, Asa?’