“Well, it appears that you and I are to be preserved from the Americans in order to assist in the future victory of the Fatherland.
Passage has been arranged for you and me, and not more than one hundred kilos of official papers, et cetera, aboard
“Junkers at half past eight, “von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
“There is a fifty-kilo allowance for personal luggage.”
“Why so late?
” Muller asked.
“The Americans also wasted several hours sweeping the invincible French Service de l’aire from the skies,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
“It was a choice between a U-boat and the Junkers at night.” Muller walked to a table and picked up a bottle of Steinhager.
“May I?” he asked, already pouring some of the liquor into a glass.
“Of course,” Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “And would you be good enough to pour one for me?” When Muller handed von Heurten-Mitnitz the small, stemmed glass, he asked, “Did you know what the Americans had in mind?” Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz met his eyes.
“Not in the way I think you mean,” he said. “I knew they were coming.
It was the logical thing for them to do, and I knew they were capable of mounting a transatlantic invasion force. But they didn’t tell me about it.
Murphy, in fact, went out of his way to lead me to believe the Americans intended to reinforce the British from Cairo.”
“Then they didn’t trust you,” Muller said simply. “So why trust them?” Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz sipped at his Steinhager before replying.
“The simple answer to that, Johann,” he said, “is that I have–we have-no choice but to trust them. Do you understand? I didn’t expect them to tell me details of their invasion.”
“We could arrange to be captured here,” Muller went on doggedly.
“Have you thought about that? We just don’t show up at the airport.”
“That would work for you,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “If you want, you can do just that.”
“It wouldn’t work for you? Why not?”
“You would be considered a soldier and become a POW,” von Heurtenmitnitz said. “I have a diplomatic passport. I’m quite sure they would put me on a plane to Lisbon for return to Germany.” “Not if you said you didn’t want to go,” Muller said.
“But I have to go, Johnny,” von Heurten-Mitnitz, said. “You understand that.” Muller snorted, drained his Steinhager, and poured another.
“You have to put things in perspective,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
GAITHOUGH it just began, the invasion of North Africa is already history. What they want me for is the future.” Muller grunted again.
“What they want us for, you mean.” He paused, frowning. “And aren’t you afraid that you–and, for that matter, me–that we’ll look bad in Berlin for not having done more than we did here?”
“Are we going to be blamed, you mean? Or regarded with suspicion?” von Heurten-Mitnitz asked and went on without waiting for a reply.
“I don’t think so. I think what happened here will be regarded as yet another manifestation of French perfidy and ineptitude in battle.
And with the Americans in Morocco, I think the Fuhrer and his entourage will want to put the unpleasant subject out of mind. Until, of course, the Fuhrer in his good time decides to take Morocco back.” Muller snorted derisively.
“And have the Americans told you what they want from us in Germany?”
“To a degree,” Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “But I think the less you know about that now, the better.” He closed his suitcase and buckled its leather straps.
“Are you packed?” iii packed right after Fulmar telephoned me, Muller said.
“Well, then, lets collect your luggage and go out to the airfield,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. He looked at Muller. i, Johnny, if you want to stay and be captured, I’ll understand. I can also come up with a convincing story to explain it back home. You know, devotion to duty and all the rest of it.” Jesus Christ, don’t make it easy for me,” Muller said. “I’ve almost t’lked myself into staying. Almost, shit!
When I walked in here, I was going to tell you I was staying. And then I remember what those swine did in Russia.