W E B Griffin – Men at War 3 – The Soldier Spies

“I rather thought she would,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said dryly.

“Her vigilance and devotion to the state are commendable. What do they tell her, by the way, when she does make such reports?”

“In this case, she was asked if anyone was with you,” Muller said, “and told that since you have a Propaganda Ministry permit, further reports would not be necessary unless someone was with you when you listened.”

“I wonder if she was relieved or disappointed?” von Heurten-Mitnitz mused. “I gather you’re leading up to the Gisella Thanks Eric’ message?”

“You’re sure it’s our Gisella and our Eric?”

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

“What the hell does it mean?” Muller said. “That we’re to get her a radio so that she can listen to the BBC?”

“How could that be done?” von Heurten-Mitnitz asked.

“I thought you were going to tell me,” Muller said.

“I have an idea,” Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “I’m not sure how you will react.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Fraulein Dyer has auracted the eye of a senior SS-SD officeg” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “They met while he was home on Christmas leave.

They were introduced by an SS-SD officer. A bachelor, somewhat older than the lady, he is rather badly smiten with her. He wants to give her a little present.” Muller laughed, then was silent for a moment before he replied, “I was in Peis’s apartment,” he said. “Peis had a very nice, very ornate Siemens radio. I rather doubt he went to a store and bought it. It was probably taken into protective storage.

There are probably others.”

“Perhaps you could steal a few hours from your busy schedule to pursue a little May and December romance,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

“Goddamn it, Helmut,” Muller said. “There’s not that much of an age difference between us.”

“And you know, of course, what Oscar Wilde said,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

“I don’t even know who he is, much less what he said.”

“He was an Englishman,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “A writer who said some interesting things, one of which was that celibacy is the most unusual of all perversions. “‘ Muller snorted appreciatively.

“Now I know,” he said. “He went to prison for being a fag, right?”

“Yes, he did.”

“A man could get in trouble, Herr Minister, quoting the philosophy of an English pansy to a Standartenfuhrer SS-SD,” Muller said.

“Yes, I daresay he could,” von Heurten-Mitnitz agreed.

“What the hell do they want, Helmut?”

“I’ve given that a lot of thought,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

“And?”

“It may have something to do with the professor,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “Or with the Fulmar Werke in Marburg. I can’t imagine what else it would be.”

“And by getting her a radio, we let them know we’re ready to put our necks on the block? Is that how you figure it?” “Yes,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “They must have someone in Marburg.

Or the Dyers are already in touch with an agent–”

“She’s not,” Muller interrupted. “And I don’t think her father is, either.”

“Then there is an agent in Marburg watching them, “von Heurten-Mitnitz repeated, “who will report we’re doing what we’ve been asked to do.”

“It makes me sick,” Muller said. “That may be just fear. But it may be that I don’t like treason.” It was a moment before von Heurten-Mitnitz replied.

“While I was waiting for you, Johnny,” he said, “I was listening to the radio. The Americans bombed Dortmund last night. According to the Propaganda Ministry, damage was light–” Muller snorted.

“–and,” von Heurten-Mitnitz went on, “if we are to believe Reichsmarschall Goring, as of course we all do, the Luftwaffe downed twenty-nine of the attacking force of two hundred bombers.”

“Call me Meyer, “‘ Muller said.

In the early days of the war, Goring had assured the German people that if Allied aircraft ever bombed German soil, they were free to call

“Meyer,” a Jewish name and thus a pejorative.

“I was asked to comment, “von Heurten-Mitnitz went on, “on an Abwehr report from an agent in New Jersey, which estimated the Americans were flying upward of fifty aircraft to England every day.”

“New Jersey?” Muller asked.

“A state. Right next to New York City,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *