For what?! … 0h, my God! For what?!
‘You’re lying!’ David crashed his hand down on the table. The steel of the
pistol cracked against the wood with such force the vibration filled the
room. ‘You’re lying!’ he cried; he did not shout. ‘I’m in Buenos Aires to
buy gyroscopic designs! To have them authenticated! Confirmed by code so
that son of a bitch gets paid in Switzerland! That’s all. Nothing else!
Nothing else at aill Not this I’
‘Yes. . . .’ Asher Feld spoke softly. ‘It is this.’
David whirled around at nothing. He stretched his neck: the crashing
thunder in his head would not stop, the blinding flashes of light in front
of his eyes were causing a terrible pain. He saw the bodies on the floor,
the blood . the corpses on the sofa, the blood.
Tableau of death.
Death.
His whole shadow world bad been ripped out of orbit. A thousand gambles …
pains, manipulations, death. And more death . . . all faded into a
meaningless void. The betrayal – if it was a betrayal – was so immense …
hundreds of thousands had been sacrificed for absolutely nothing.
He had to stop. He had to think. To concentrate.
He looked at the painfully gaunt Eugene Lyons, his face a sheet of white.
The man’s dying, thought Spaulding.
Death.
He had to concentrate.
Oh, Christ! He had to think. Start somewhere. Think.
Concentrate.
Or he would go out of his mind.
He turned to Feld. The Jew’s eyes were compassionate. They might have been
something else, but they were not. They were compassionate.
And yet, they were the eyes of a man who killed in calm deliberation.
As he, the man in Lisbon, had killed.
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Execution.
For what?
There were questions. Concentrate on the questions. Listen. Find error.
Find error – if error was needed in this world it was nowl
‘I don’t believe you,’ said David, trying as he had never tried in his life
to be convincing.
‘I think you do,’ replied Feld quietly. ‘The girl, Leslie Hawkwood, told us
you didn’t know. A judgment we found difficult to accept…. I accept it
now.’
David had to think for a moment. He did not, at first, recognize the name.
Leslie Hawkwood. And then, of course, he did instantly. Painfully. ‘How is
she involved with youT he asked numbly.
‘Herold Goldsmith is her uncle. By marriage, of course, she’s not Jewish.’
‘Goldsmith? The name … doesn’t mean anything to me.’ … Concentrate I He
had to concentrate and speak rationally.
‘It does to thousands of Jews. He’s the man behind the Baruch and Lehman
negotiations. He’s done more to get our people out of the camps than any
man in America…. He refused to have anything to do with Us until the
civilized, compassionate men in Washington, London and the Vatican turned
their backs on him. Then he came to us … in fury. He created a hurricane,
his niece was swept up in it. She’s overly dramatic, perhaps, but commit-
ted, effective. She moves in circles barred to the Jew.’
‘Why?’. . . Listen I For God’s sake, listen. Be rational. Concentratel
Asher Feld paused for a moment, his dark, hollow eyes clouded with quiet
hatred. ‘She met dozens . . . hundreds, perhaps, of those Herold Goldsmith
got out. She saw the photographs, heard the stories. It was enough. She was
ready.’
The calm was beginning to return to David. Leslie was the springboard he
needed to come back from the madness. There were questions….
‘I can’t reject the pren-dse that Rhinemarm bought the designs. . . .’
‘Oh, come!’ interrupted Feld. ‘You were the man in Lisbon. How often did
your own agents – your best men – find Peenemfinde invulnerable? Has not
the German underground itself given up penetrationT
353
‘No one ever gives up. On either side. The German underground is part of
this!’ That was the error, thought David.
‘If that were so,’ said Feld, gesturing his head toward the dead Germans on
the couch, ‘then those men were members of the underground. You know the
Haganah, Lisbon. We don’t kill such men.’
Spaulding stared at the quiet-spoken Jew and knew he told the truth.
‘The other evening.’ said Spaulding quickly, ‘on Parand. I was followed,
beaten up . . . but I saw the IDs. They were Gestapo V
‘They were Haganah.’ replied Feld. ‘The Gestapo is our best cover. If they
had been Gestapo that would presume, knowledge of your function…. Would
they have let you live?’
Spaulding started to object. The Gestapo would not risk killing in a
neutral country; not with identification on their persons. Then he realized
the absurdity of his logic. Buenos Aires was not Lisbon. Of course, they
would kill him. And then he recalled the words of Heinrich Stoltz.
We’ve checked at the highest levels … not the Gestapo … impossible….
And the strangely inappropriate apologia: the racial theories of Rosenberg
and Hitler are not shared … primarily an economic …
A defense of the indefensible offered by a man whose loyalty was
purportedly not to the Third Reich but to Erich Rhinemann. A Jew.
Finally, Bobby Ballard:
… he’s a believer … the real Junker item….
‘Oh, my God,’ said David under his breath.
‘You have the advantage, colonel. What is your choice? We’re prepared to
die; I say this in no sense heroically, merely as a fact.’
Spaulding stood motionless. He spoke softly, incredulously. ‘Do you
understand the implications? . . .’
.We’ve understood them,’ interrupted Feld, ‘since that day in Geneva your
Walter Kendall met with Johann Dietricht.’
David reacted as though slapped, ‘Johann … Dietricht?’
‘The expendable heir of Dietricht Fabriken.’
‘J.D.,’ whispered Spaulding, remembering the crumpled yellow pages in
Walter Kendall’s New York office. The breasts, the testicles, the swastikas
… the obscene, nervous scribbings of an
354
obscene, nervous man. ‘Johann Dietricht … J.D.’
‘Altmilller had him killed. In a way that precluded any .
‘Why?’asked David.
‘To remove any connection with the Ministry of Armaments, is our thought;
any association with the High Command. Dietricht initiated the negotiations
to the point where they could be shifted to Buenos Aires. To Rhinemarm.
With Dietricht’s death the High Command was one more step removed.’
The items raced through David’s mind: Kendall had fled Buenos Aires in
panic; something had gone wrong. The accountant would not allow himself to
be trapped, to be killed. And he, David, was to kill – or have killed –
Erich Rhinemann. Second to the designs, Rhinemann’s death was termed
paramount. And with his death, Washington, too, was ‘one more step removed’
from the exchange.
Yet there was Edmund Pace.
Edmund Pace.
Never.
‘A man was killed,’ said David, ‘A Colonel Pace’. . .
‘In Fairfax,’ completed Asher Feld. ‘A necessary death. He was being used
as you are being used. We deal in pragmatics. … Without knowing the
consequences – or refusing to admit them to himself – Colonel Pace was
engineering “Tortugas.
‘You could have told him. Not killed him! You could have stopped it! You
bastards!’
Asher Feld sighed. ‘I’m afraid you don’t understand the hysteria among your
industrialists. Or those of the Reich. He would have been eliminated…. By
removing him ourselves, we neutralized Fairfax. And all its considerable
facilities.’
There was no point in dwelling on the necessity of Pace’s death, thought
David. Feld, the pragmatist, was right: Fairfax had been removed from
‘Tortugas.’
‘Then Fairfax doesn’t know.’
‘Our man does. But not enough.’
‘Who is he? Who’s your man in FairfaxT
Feld gestured to his silent companion. ‘He doesn’t know and I won’t tell
you. You may kill me but I won’t tell you.’
Spaulding knew the dark-eyed Jew spoke the truth. ‘If Pace was used … and
me. Who’s using usT
‘I can’t answer that.’
‘You know this much. You must have … thoughts. Tell me.’
355
‘Whoever gives you orders, I imagine.*
‘One man….’
‘We know. He’s not very good, is he? There are others.’
‘Who? Where does it stop? State? The War Department? The White House?
Where, for Christ’s sake!?’
‘Such territories have no meaning in these transactions. They vanish.’
‘Men don’tl Men don’t vanish!’
‘Then look for those who dealt with Koening. In South Africa. Kendall’s
men. They created “Tortugas.” ‘ Asher Feld’s voice grew stronger. ‘That’s
your affair, Colonel Spaulding. We only wish to stop it. We’ll gladly die
to stop it.’
David looked at the thin-faced, sad-faced man. ‘It means that much? With
what you know, what you believe? Is either side worth itT
‘One r-rust have priorities. Even in lessening descent. If Peenem0nde is
saved … put back on schedule … the Reich has a bargaining power that is
unacceptable to us. Look to Dachau; look to Auschwitz, to Belsen.
Unacceptable.’
David walked around the table and stood in front of the Jews. He put his
Beretta in his shoulder holster and looked at Asher Feld.
‘If you’ve lied to me, I’ll kill you. And then I’ll go back to Lisbon, into