CHAPTER 35
The monoplane’s fight over the channel had been uneventful-the wind calm,
the visibility excellent. It was fortunate for Scarlett that such was the
case, for the stinging irritation of his unhealed surgery coupled with the
pitch of his fury would have made a difficult trip a disastrous one. He was
hardly capable of keeping his mind on the compass bearings and when he first
saw the Normandy coast, it looked unfamiliar to him. Yet he had made these
very same sightings a dozen times.
He was met at the small airfield outside of Lisieux by the Paris
contingent, consisting of two Germans and a French Gascon, whose guttural
dialect nearly matched that of his associates.
The three Europeans anticipated that the man-they did not know his
namo-would instruct them to return to Paris. To await further orders.
The man had other intentions, insisting that they all sit uncoigifortably
together in the front seat while he occupied the entire space in the back.
He ordered the Car to Vernon, where two got out and were told to mak
their own way back to Pans. The driver was to remain.
Tbe driver vaguely protested- when Scarlett ordered him to proceed west to
Montb6liard, a small town near the Swiss border.
“Mein Herrl Tliat’s a four-hundred-kilometer trip? It will take ten hours
or more on these abysmal roads I”
“rhen we should be there by dinner time, And be quied”
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“It might have been simpler for mein Herr to refuel and fly – . .”
“I do not fly when I am tired. Relax. IT And you some ,seafood’ in
Montb6liard. Vary your diet, Kircher. It excites the palate.”
“Jawohl, mein Herrl” Kircher grimed, knowing the man was really a fine
OberfArer.
scariett refiected. The misfitsl One day they’d be rid of the misfits.
Montb6liard was not much more oomplex than an oversized village. The
principal livelihood of its citizens was farm produce, much of which was
shipped into Switzerland and Germany. Its currency. as in many towns on the
border, was a mixture of francs, marks, and Swiss francs.
Scarlett and his driver reached it a little after nine in the evening.
However, except for several stops for petrol and a midafternoon lunch, they
had pushed forward with no conversation between them. This quiet acted as
a sedative to Scarletfs anxiety. He was able to think without anger,
although his anger was ever present The driver had been right when he had
pointed out that a flight from Lisieux to Montb6liard would have been
simpler and less arduous, but Scarlett could not risk any explosions of
temper brought on by exhaustion.
SometAme that day or evening-the time was left open -be was meeting with
the Prussian, the all-important man who could deliver what few others
could. He had to be up to that meeting, every brain cell working. He
couldn’t allow recent problems to distort his concentration. The conference
with the Prussian was the culminawn of months, years of work. From the
first macabre meeting with Gregor Strasser to the convemon of his millions
to Swiss capital. He, Heinrich Kroeger, possessed the finances so
desperately needed by the National Socialists. His importance to the party
was now acknowledged.
The problems. Irritating problernsl But he’d made his decisions. Wd have
Howard Tbornton isolated, perhaps killed. The San Franciscan had betrayed
them. If the Stockholm manipulation had been uncovered, it had to
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be laid at Thornton’s feet. They’d used his Swedish contacts and obviously
he maneuvered large blocks of securities back into his own hands at the
depressed price.
Thornton would be taken care of.
As was the French dandy, Jacques Bertholde.
Thornton and Bertholdel Both misfits! Greedy, stupid misfits!
What had happened to Boothroyd? Obviously killed on the Ca1purnia. But how?
Why? Regardless, he deserved to diel So did his father-in-law. Rawlins’
order to kill Elizabeth Scarlatti was stupidl The timing had been insanel
Couldn’t Rawlins understand that she would have left letters behind,
documents? She was far more dangerous dead than alive. At least until she’d
been reachedas he had reached her, threatened her precious Scarlattis. Now,
she could diel Now it wouldn’t matter. And with Bertholde gone, Rawlins
gone, and Thornton about to be killed, there’d be no one left who knew who
he was. No onel’He was Heinrich Kroeger, a leader of the new orderl
They pulled up at I:Auberge des Moineaux, a small restaurant with a buvette
and lodgings for the traveler or for those desiring privacy for other
reasons. For Scarlett it was the appointed meeting place.
“Take the car down the road and park it,” he told Kh-cher. “I’ll be in one
of the moms. Have dinner. ru call for you later. . . . I haven’t forgotten
my promise.” Kircher grinned. ,
Ulster Scarlett got out of the car and stretched. He felt better, his skin
bothered him less, and the impending conference filled him with a sense of
anticipation. This was the kind of work he should always dol Matters of
vast consequences. Matters of power.
He waited until the car was far enough down the street to obscure Kircher’s
rear-mirror view of him. He then walked back, away from the door, to the
cobblestone path and turned into it. Misfits were never to be told anything
that wasn’t essential to their specific usefulness.
He reached an unlighted door and knocked several times.
The door opened and a moderately tall man with thick, wavy black hair and
prominent, dark eyebrows stood in the center of the frame as if guarding an
entrance, not welcoming a guest. He was dressed in a Bavarian-cut gray
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coat and brown knickers. The face was darkly cherubic, the eyes wide and
staring. His name was Rudolf Hess.
“Where have you beenr’ Hess motioned Scarlett to enter and close the door.
ne room was small; there was a table with chain around it, a sideboard, and
two floor lamps, which gave the room its light Another man who had been
looking out the window, obviously to identify the one outside, nodded to
Scarle4t. He was a tiny, ugly man with birdlike features, even to the
hawknose. He walked with a limp.
‘Joseph?” said Scarlett to him. “I didn’t expect you hem”
Joseph Goebbels looked over at Hess. His knowledge of English was poor.
Hess translated Scarletts words rapidly and Goebbels shrugged his
shoulders.
“I asked you where you have beenl”
“I had trouble in Lisieux. I couldn’t get another plane so I had to drive.
Ifs been a long day so don’t aggravate me, please.”
“Achl From Lisieux? A long trip. I’ll order you some food, but you’ll have
to be quick. Rheinhart’s been waiting since noon.”
Scarlett took off his flying jacket and threw it on the sideboard shelf.
“How is he?”
Goebbels understood just enough to interrupt “Rheinhart? … Im-pa-tientl”
He mispronounced the word, and Scarlett grinned. Goebbels thought to
himself that this giant was a horrible-looking creature. The opinion was
mutuaL
“Never mind the food. Rheinhart’s been warting too long… Where is he?”
‘In his room. Number two, down the corridor. He went for a walk this
afternoon but he keeps thinking someone will recognize him so he came back
in ten minutes. I think he’s upset.”
“Go get him. … And bring back some whiskey.” He looked at Goebbels
wishing that this unattractive little inan would leave. It wasn’t good that
Goebbels be there while Hess and he talked with the Prussian aristocrat.
Goebbels looked like an inagnificant Jmbh accountant.
But Scarlett knew he could do nothing. Hitler was taken with Goebbels.
Joseph Goebbels seemed to be reading the tall man’s thoughts.
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“Ich werde dabei sitzen wiffirend Sie sprechen.” He pulled a chair back to
the wall and sat down.
Hess had gone out the corridor door and the two men were in the room alone.
Neither spoke.
Four minutes later Hess returned. Following him was an aging, overweight
German several inches shorter than Hess, dressed in a black double-breasted
suit and a high collar. His face was puffed with excess fat, his white bair
cropped short. He stood perfectly erect and in spite of his imposing
appearance, Scarlett thought there was something soft about him, not
associated with his bulk. He strutted into the room. Hess closed the door
and locked it.
“Gentlemen. General Rheinhart.” Hess stood at attention.
Goebbels rose from the chair and bowed, clicking his heels.
Rheinhart looked at him unimpressed.
Scarlett noticed Rheinhart’s expression. He approached the elderly general
and held out his hand.
“Herr General.”
Rheinhart faced Scarlett, and although he concealed it well, his reaction
to Scarlett’s appearance was obvious. The two men shook hands perfunctorily
“Please sit down, Herr General.” Hess was enormously impressed with -their
company and did not hide the fact Rheinhart sat in a chair at the end of
the table. Scarlett was momentarily upset He had wanted to sit in that
particular chair for it was the commanding position.
Hess asked Rheinhart ff he preferred whiskey, gin, or Wine. The zeneM waved