In the American vernacular, then, Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz and Obersturmbannfuhrer Muller were now offered the choice of putting up or shutting up.
The easiest thing for them would be to round up the twenty French officers and Baron Eric Fulmar and accept the congratulations of their superiors. It was hoped, of course, that, as their contribution to a quick end to the war, they would take the twenty to Second Lieutenant Fulmar and safety at Ksar es Souk. Which, of course, was treason.
More important, they would be compromised. Thereafter, the Americans would be able to demand other services–under threat of letting the SS know what they had done in Morocco.
When he had parachuted into the desert near Ksar es Souk three days before, Lieutenant Eric Fulmar would not have been surprised to find himself immediately surrounded by Waffen-SS troops. As it happened, German troops did not meet him, but this was no proof that Helmut von Heurtenmitnitz and Muller were playing the game as they were expected to.
They may well have been waiting until he had furnished the names of the French officers before arresting him.
As soon as the code word signaling that the invasion was about to begin came over the Zenith portable radio, he had called Rabat to order the delivery of the list of French officers to Muller. Then he had telephoned Muller and told him the list was in his mailbox. To Fulmar’s surprise, Muller had told him the precise hour he expected to be at Ksar es Souk.
Muller was so clear and careful about the time of his arrival that Fulmar immediately suspected that when the truck appeared, it would be full of Waffen-SS troopers, not French officers. In view of that, he decided to change his plan to accompany the Berber force that would intercept the Muller convoy before it reached Ksar es Souk.
He decided he would watch the intercept from the palace tower.
Pawns are put in jeopardy, he thought. That’s part of the game.
But nowhere is it written that they have to put themselves in jeopardy.
When the announcer began to repeat the presidential proclamation, Fulmar searched through the broadcast band, hoping to pick up something else. There was nothing.
He turned off the radio and picked up the binoculars again. This time there was a cloud of dust rising from the desert floor. Right on schedule.
Fulmar slid off the antique chair and knelt on the stone floor in a position that would allow him to rest his elbows on the parapet to steady the binoculars.
It was two minutes before the first of the vehicles came into sight. It was a small, open, slab-sided vehicle–a military version of the Volkswagen, Germany’s answer to the jeep. Four soldiers in the black uniforms of the Waffenss rode in the Volkswagen. Behind it was a French Panhard armored car.
Fulmar frowned. The armored car was unexpected. It smelled like the trap he worried about. Behind the Panhard was a Citroen sedan, and behind that a civilian truck, obviously just pressed into service. The truck was large enough to conceal twenty French officers. Or that many Waffen-SS troops.
Behind the truck were two other slab-sided Volkswagens holding more Waffen-SS soldiers.
About half a mile from Ksar es Souk, the convoy disappeared from sight in a dip in the terrain. And then it reappeared, rounded a turn, and skidded to a halt. The road had been blocked there by a four-foot-high pile of rocks.
From the tower, Fulmar could see the Berbers waiting for the convoy, but to the Germans the Berbers were invisible.
The Waffen-SS troops jumped from their Volkswagens and formed a defensive perimeter around the convoy.
The Panhard moved in front of the leading Volkswagen and then tried to climb the pile of rocks. Nobody left the truck. Which meant nothing, they might be trying to conceal the presence of more German troops as long as possible.
Fulmar saw the muzzle flashes of the Panhard’s machine gun moments before he heard the sound. And then the Panhard burst into flame, and a huge plume of black gasoline smoke surged into the sky.
There were more muzzle flashes, followed moments later by the rattle of the weapons. Two of the Waffen-SS troopers rushed toward a Berber position before being cut down.