them.’
David looked at the man. He found himself accepting the information without
feeling. Without feeling. And that lack of feeling warned him … to be on
guard. He had trained the man named Bergeron, lived in the hills with him,
talked for hours on end about things only isolation produces between men.
Bergeron had fought with him, sacrificed for him. Bergeron was the closest
friend he had in the north country.
Two years ago such news would have sent him into furious anger. He would
have pounded the earth and called for a strike somewhere across the
borders, demanding that retribution be made.
A year ago he would have walked away from the bearer of such news and
demanded a few minutes to be by himself. A brief silence to consider … by
himself … the whole of the man who had given his life, and the memories
that man conjured up.
Yet now he felt nothing.
Nothing at all.
And it was a terrible feeling to feel nothing at all.
‘Don’t make that mistake again,’ he said to the Basque. ‘Tell me next time.
I don’t act rashly.’
105
DECEMBER 13,1943
BERLIN, GERMANY
Johann Dietricht shifted his immense soft bulk in the leather chair in front
of Altmillier’s desk. It was ten thirty at night and he had not had dinner;
there had been no time. The Messerschmitt flight from Geneva had been
cramped, petrifying; and all things considered, Dietricht was in a state of
aggravated exhaustion. A fact he conveyed a number of times to the
Unterstaatssekretiir.
‘We appreciate everything you’ve been through, Herr Dietricht. And the
extraordinary service you’ve rendered to your country.’ AltmUller spoke
solicitously. ‘Ibis will take only a few minutes longer, and then I’ll have
you driven anywhere you like.1
‘A decent restaurant, if you can find one open at this hour,’ said
Dietricht petulantly.
‘We apologize for rushing you away. Perhaps a pleasant evening; a really
good meal. Schnapps, good company. Heaven knows you deserve it…. There’s
an inn several miles outside the city. Its patronage is restricted; mostly
young flight lieutenants, graduates in training. The kitchen is really
excellent.’
There was no need for Johann Dietricht to return AltmUller’s smiling look;
he accepted certain things as indigenous to his life-style. He had been
catered to for years. He was a very important man, and other men were
invariably trying to please him. As Herr AltmiWer was trying to please him
now.
106
‘That might be most relaxing. It’s been a dreadful day. Days, really.’
‘Of course, if you’ve some other. .
‘No, no. I’ll accept your recommendation…. Let’s get on with it, shall
we?’
‘Very well. Going back over several points so there’s no room for error….
The American was not upset with regard to Buenos Aires?’
‘He jumped at it. Revolting man; couldn’t look you in the eye, but he meant
what he said. Simply revolting, though. His clothes, even his fingernails.
Dirty fellow!’
‘Yes, of course. But you couldn’t have misinterpreted?’
‘My English is fluent. I undeistand even the nuances. He was very pleased.
I gathered that it served a dual purpose: far removed – thousands of miles
away – and in a city nominally controlled by American interests.’
‘Yes, we anticipated that reaction. Did he have the authority to confirm
it?’
‘Indeed, yes. There was no question. For all his uncouth manner, he’s
obviously highly placed, very decisive. Unquestionably devious, but most
anxious to make the exchange.’
‘Did you discuss – even peripherally – either’s motives?’
‘My word, it was unavoidable! This Kendall was most direct. It was a
financial matter, pure and simple. There were no other considerations. And
I believe him totally; he talks only figures. He reduces everything to
numbers. I doubt he has capacities for anything else. I’m extremely
perceptive.’
‘We counted on that. And Rhinemann? He, too, was acceptable?’
‘Immaterial. I pointed out the calculated risk we were taking in an effort
to allay suspicions; that Rhinemann was in forced exile. This Kendall was
impressed only by Rhinemann’s wealth.’
‘And the time element; we must be thoroughly accurate. Let’s go over the
projected dates. It would be disastrous if I made any mistake. As I
understand you, -the American had graduated estimates of carbonado and
bortz shipping requirements. . . .’
‘Yes, yes,’ broke in Dietricht, as if enlightening a child. ‘After all, he
had no idea of our needs. I settled on the maximum, of course; there was
not that much difference in terms of time. They must divert shipments from
points of origin; too great a risk in commandeering existing supplies.’
107
‘I’m not sure I understand that. It could be a ploy.,
‘They’re trapped in their own security measures. As of a month ago, every
repository of industrial diamonds has excessive controls, dozens of
signatures for every kiloweight. To extract our requirements would be
massive, lead to exposure.’
‘The inconvenience of the democratic operation. The underlings are given
responsibility. And once given, difficult to divest. Incredible.’
‘As this Kendall phrased it, there would be too many questions, far too
many people would be involved. It would be very sensitive. Their security
is filled with Turks.’
‘We have to accept the condition.’ said Altmillier with resignation -his
own, not for the benefit of Dietricht. ‘And the anticipated time for these
shipment diversions is four to six weeks. It can’t be done in less?’
‘Certainly. If we are willing to process the ore ourselves.’
‘Impossible. We could end up with tons of worthless dirt. We must have the
finished products, of course.’
‘Naturally. I made that clear.’
‘It strikes me as an unnecessary delay. I have to look for inconsistencies,
Herr Dietricht. And you said this Kendall was devious.’
‘But anxious. I said he was anxious, too. He drew an analogy that lends
weight to his statements. He said that their problem was no less than that
of a man entering the national vaults in the state of Kentucky and walking
out with crates of gold bullion. … Are we concluded?’
‘Just about. The conduit in Geneva will be given the name of the man in
Buenos Aires? The man with whom we make contact ?’
‘Yes. In three or four days. Kendall believed it might be a scientist named
Spinelli. An expert in gyroscopics.’
‘That title could be questioned, I should think. He’s Italian?’
‘A citizen, however.’
‘I see. That’s to be expected. The designs will be subject to scrutiny, of
course. What remains now are the checks and counterchecks each of us employ
up to the moment of the exchange. A ritual dance.’
‘Ach! That’s for your people. I’m out of it. I have made the initial and,
I believe, the most important contribution!
‘There’s no question about it. And, I assume, you have abided
108
by the Fiffirees trust in you, conveyed through this office. You have spoken
to no one of the Geneva tripT
‘No one. The FUhrer’s trust is not misplaced. He knows that. As my father
and his brother, my uncle, the Dietricht loyalty and obedience are
unswerving.’
‘He’s mentioned that often. We are finished, mein Herr.’
‘Good! It’s been absolutely nerve-wracking! . . . I’ll accept your
recommendation of the restaurant. If you’ll make arrangements, I’ll
telephone for my car.’
‘As you wish, but I can easily have my personal driver take you there. As
I said, it’s somewhat restricted; my chauffeur is a young man who knows his
way around.’ Altmillier glanced at Dietricht. Their eyes met for the
briefest instant. ‘The Fikhrer would be upset if he thought I
inconvenienced you.’
‘Oh, very well. I suppose it would be easier. And we don’t want the
Fiffirer upset.’ Dietricht struggled out of the chair as Altmfiller rose
and walked around the desk.
‘Thank you, Herr Dietricht,’ said the Unterstaatssekretir, extending his
hand. ‘When the time comes we will make known your extraordinary
contribution. You are a hero of the Reich, mein Herr. It is a privilege to
know you. The adjutant outside will take you down to the car. The chauffeur
is waiting.’
‘Such a relief! Good evening, Herr Altmfiller.’ Johann Dietricht waddled
toward the door as Franz reached over and pushed a button on his desk.
In the morning Dietricht would be dead, the circumstances so embarrassing
no one would care to elaborate on them except in whispers.
Dietricht, the misfit, would be eliminated.
And all traces of the Geneva manipulation to the leaders of the Reich
canceled with him. Buenos Aires was now in the hands of Erich Rhinemann and
his former brothers in German industry.
Except for him – for Franz AltmUlIer.
The true manipulator.
109
DECEMBER 15,1943
11
114
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Swanson disliked the methods he was forced to employ. They were the
beginnings, he felt, of an unending string of deceits. And he was not a
deceitful man. Perhaps better than most at spotting deceitful men, but that
was due to continuous exposure, not intrinsic characteristics.
The methods were distasteful: observing men who did not know they were