“I thought it might be something like that,” the Baron said.
“I was the German representative to the Franco-German Armistice Commission for Morocco,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “In that capacity, I came to know your son, Herr Baron.”
“Did you?” the Baron asked, surprised.
“Before we get into that, let me ask, how often did you see your son after your first encounter? Or should I say confrontation’?”
“I never saw him again,” the Baron said firmly.
“And you had no idea that the last time he left Germany, he had no intention of returning? There was no telephone, not even a postcard?”
“I never had any contact with him after that meeting.”
“But you did pay his tuition at Marburg?”
“It was suggested to me that I do so,” the Baron said.
“And gave him an allowance of–How much was it?”
“Five thousand Reichsmarks monthly,” the Baron said. “But that, too, Herr von Heurten-Mitnitz, was at the recommendation of highly placed persons.”
“So I understand,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
He fixed the Baron with a stern look.
“Herr Baron, it goes without saying that what I will now tell you is a state secret. You are to tell no one.”
“I understand,” the Baron said.
“There is reason to believe that your son is now connected with American military intelligence.” The Baron’s face went white. “I can’t tell you how ashamed that makes me.” Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz let him sweat a moment.
“The information we have is considered highly reliable,” he said.
“Certainly, no one thinks–” the Baron began, and stopped.
“Certainty not,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “There is no suspicion that in any way reflects on your own loyalty.”
“Then… what?”
“It is considered possible that he will attempt to contact you, most probably through third parties, but perhaps in person, “von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
“FEG is involved with much that is of interest to the Americans.”
“I must strenuously protest even the suggestion–”
“Herr Baron, there is no question whatever in my mind of your loyalty.
But he is your flesh and blood!” he is connected with American military intelligence,” the Baron said, “he is an enemy of the German state. That transcends anything else.”
“I am going to give you my private telephone number,” von Heurtenmitnitz said. “And the private telephone number of Standartenfuhrer Muller, who is handling this matter for the Sicherheitsdienst. If there is any attempt by your son to contact you, or if anything comes up that arouses your suspicions in any way, I want you to contact either of us immediately.”
“Yes, of course,” the Baron said.
Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz wrote the numbers on the back of another of the calling cards identifying him as Brigadefuhrer SS-SD, and handed it to the Baron.
“Thank you for giving me your time at this period of grief,” he said.
“I thank you for your understanding, Herr Brigadefuhrer,” the Baron said.
The Baron, von Heurten-Mitnitz thought, is fully prepared to denounce his son to the authorities if given the chance. And Eric von Fulmar and Colonel William’t Donovan of the OSS certainly had known he would.
What, then, is the meaning of the postcard from Eric von Fulmar asking that his father be given his regards?
“One final question, Herr Baron,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “Are you acquainted with Professor Doktor Friedrich Dyer?” He saw on von Fulmar’s face that the question struck home.
“I am not personally acquainted with him,” the Baron said. “But he is, at the request of Reichsminister Speer, serving as a consultant to our Marburg Werke.” “So I understand,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said smoothly. “But you’re not personally acquainted with him? nx
“No,” the Baron said.
Von Heurten-Mitnitz now understood that the answers to the questions posed by the Bad Ems postcard had to lie with Professor Dyer of the University of Marburg, his relationship with the Fulmar Werke there, and most important of all, his relationship with Albert Speer.
Muller was going to have to go to Marburg, while he himself tried to find out why Reichsminister Speer was interested in an obscure professor there.
U. S. Navy Bureau ol hrosauticn Washisgton, D. C.31 December 1942 The second-ranking officer in the United States Navy was formally known as the Deputy Chief of Naval Operations (DCNO). The DCNO was a busy man.