The Bavarian Gate By John Dalmas

“It is time to exercise your skill on the enemy-the Americans and British. What do you think of that?”

“I am glad, sir. At the palace I made slaves scream and run, or freeze, or fall on the ground. I can do the same to the British and American swine.”

“Good.” The colonel grimaced slightly, then turned his glance to Anna, fingers drumming briefly on his desk. “I am going to tell you both some things which you will discuss with no one except each other. Absolutely no one.”

He looked sternly at Montag before continuing. “I have a mission for you. The details have not been worked out yet, but I will describe the main features. The Americans and British are expected to assault the north coast of France, in May or possibly June. The Wehrmacht has prepared powerful defenses to repulse allied landings. Your task is to disrupt Allied headquarters in England by projecting psychotic images into the minds of key personnel, especially General Eisenhower and his staff.”

He examined Montag. “Do you know what psychotic means, Herr Montag?”

“No sir, colonel sir!”

At least the man could recognize and admit when he didn’t know something; many brighter men could not do that. Landgraf turned to Anna. “Fraulein Hofstetter, explain psychotic to Herr Montag.”

“Psychotic,” she answered wryly, “means insane. Crazy.” The simplicity of her answer startled Landgraf, whose degrees were in psychology. “Good,” he said after a moment. “Now, Herr Montag, Fraulein Hofstetter will go with you to England, where she will get you safely into the hands of the Abwehr-people who will help you. They will get you near enough to the enemy high command that with binoculars you will be able to see their supreme commander and other high-ranking officers. See them well enough that afterward you can attack them with images. The Abwehr will have a building diagram of their headquarters, with offices and conference rooms marked on it.”

“Do you understand?”

“Yessir, colonel sir. The-those men … Our people . . .”

“The Abwehr,” Landgraf said helpfully. “The intelligence service. Our spies in England.”

“Our spies will take me to a place, some building, and show me who the enemy commander is. Then I will make him crazy, even if he is in a room I can’t see. Our spies will have a paper that shows where the different rooms are.”

Again Landgraf’s eyebrows raised. He hadn’t expected that much understanding so quickly. “You are going to do well, Herr Montag. I have great confidence in you. Fraulein Hofstetter will tell you more when we know more.”

It happened sooner than Macurdy expected. The next morning, Anna Hofstetter took him to an unused classroom, equipped only with a table and some chairs, and they sat down.

They would, she told him, travel by train to the submarine base at Saint-Nazaire, in France. From there they’d be taken by submarine to a beach on the east coast of England, put ashore by rubber boat, picked up by German agents, and taken to an Abwehr safehouse in London. From that point they’d be briefed further by the Abwehr station chief.

“Meanwhile,” she went on, “it will be well for you to know a little about me. My father is German and my mother is English, a member of a fascist family. I lived in England until 1932, when I was thirteen years old, and for several years afterward we took our holidays there, so my English is excellent. I know English geography, much of it first hand, and I’m familiar with London. I am to be in full charge of the mission, and my function is to provide you with whatever you need to carry it out.”

“I am not subject to the Abwehr station chief. On the contrary, I can command him, within limits. His function in this is to do whatever is necessary to support you.”

She caught his gaze and held it. “I do not doubt that you understand me. You are considerably more intelligent than Colonel Landgraf imagines. You have been concealing your intelligence, pretending to be dull-wilted. Herr Doktor Professor Schurz agrees with me on that. If I am to work with you in dangerous situations, I will have to know why you pretend to be otherwise.”

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