The Shadowboxer (18 page)

“The problem with this message,” the code expert told his listeners, “is that we simply cannot find a place called Ositz. None of our maps, charts or directories show it. None of our people has ever heard of it. Our first assumption in a situation of this sort is that the transmitting agent, in this case a Jean-Claude, has made an error. Jean-Claude was employing the Triangle Cipher, a rather simple system. The most common cipher mistakes are usually connected with the spelling of foreign names. We believe Ositz is a phonetic attempt to spell a name, but we can't be certain since we know nothing of Jean-Claude or his message-sending ability.”

“If it's any help,” said Spangler, “he's only a boy. He's just turned twelve.”

“How would you evaluate his spelling skills?”

“Not too highly. He's had three years of formal schooling and that's it.”

“Thank you very much, sir.” The Cipher Chief stepped to the wall map of Europe as the lights went on. “Since Jean-Claude sent his message to St. Olaf's in Sonderborg, we know he was employing the Death Priority, so our most immediate assumption is that he is out-of-zone, somewhere in this area.” The finger arched from the Baltic coast down through northern Poland. “As I said before, we have come across no location called Ositz, but if I might call Captain Wolsky, another possibility can be examined.”

Permission was granted, and the stout, balding former University of Chicago Polish historian entered. He walked directly to the rack of maps and pushed two aside. The geography of eastern Germany and western Poland lay exposed.

“When I was a very young child,” he said, removing his glasses, “I remember being taken to an Austrian Army cavalry training post to visit a great-uncle. He was a bear of a man who insisted on throwing me up in the air and covering me with kisses. It was a very uncomfortable day. I remember passing that way some years later and being delighted to find that the post had been torn down. I imagined that some great avenging hand had reached down from heaven and swept Great-Uncle and all his comrades from the face of the earth. The avenger had done an excellent job. All that was left at the site was a railroad station. Actually it wasn't even a station, it was just a siding on the Sola River. Yes, here—here is where it was,” he said, pushing a red pin into the map. “You see, it is so insignificant that it isn't even shown, but it may still exist. In Poland, railroad facilities, no matter how small, are usually preserved. What I remember most specifically about this place was the name it bore after the cavalry post was gone and only the railroad siding remained. It was one of those silly, inconsequential names that sometimes linger in the memories of children. The siding was called Auschwitz.”

Spangler rose slowly, crossed the room and studied the tiny red pin.

“I realize it is only a hypothesis,” the ex-professor continued, “but in this entire area it is the only name even vaguely similar to Ositz. It is also a name that is difficult for strangers to pronounce, let alone spell, but a child might just remember it as I did.”

“Ever heard of it?” Kittermaster called to Spangler.

“Yes. It's one of their newer camps.”

“Ever been there?”

“No. I've never operated in Poland.”

“What else do you know about it?”

“Rumors say it's big.”

“
How
big?”

“Big.”

“Political?”

“No,” said Spangler quietly. “Not exactly political.…”

25

United States and
G.P.G.
flags hung alternately from the gallery rail of the Senate Chamber. Pairs of blue-and-gold-striped helmeted guards with white gloves stood to strict attention at every door. Julian was leaning over the speaker's rostrum, Kittermaster was seated on the dais above him.

The wire-recorder operator spoke into a microphone and gave the clearance. Kittermaster looked up toward the hidden observation booth, nodded and pointed in the opposite direction.

Martin Vetter was the first person ushered into the chamber and given a place at the rectangular table. He sat rigidly and tried not to look around him. Two minutes later Konrad Lottman was seated beside him. Lottman's attempt at composure was betrayed by his amazement at the room and his recognition of Vetter.

Thomas Hutch was next to enter the Senate. Two minutes later Reinhard Teller appeared, and two minutes after that Hilka Tolan. Ernst Zahn was followed by Joseph Winder.

Oswald Nebel was last. He took his place between Hutch and Lottman, smoothed his moustache and leered across at Vetter. Mutual distaste was more than evident.

“You take it, Julie boy,” Kittermaster said jovially. “It's your show, Julie. Give these nice folks the pitch.” Kittermaster motioned. The silent guards moved out of the chamber.

Julian's speech was short and precise. The seven persons in the room were to be the seven Ministers of the German Provisional Government. The Cabinet of the government in exile. Each would receive an annual salary of twenty-five thousand dollars, plus expenses and maintenance. Payment was retroactive to 1 January 1944.
G.P.G.
had originally been slated to have an eighth member, a Chancellor to whom the seven Ministers would be responsible, but due to the time factor it had been decided to proceed with the seven people at the table.

Germany was to be geographically divided into seven regions. Each region would be the specific domain of one Minister who would represent that region in all matters. In addition to his geographic function each Minister would hold an executive office, such as Interior, Labor, State, Finance, and so on. These would be assigned later.

At present the German Provisional Government had only one mission: to expedite the fall of the Third Reich. This would be accomplished in a series of phases.

Phase One would be the mounting of a massive newspaper, radio and leaflet propaganda offensive aimed directly at Germany itself. The campaign had four primary and simultaneous intents: to pit the top Nazi leaders against one another, to create violent anti-Nazi opinion among the German people, to stimulate pro-American sentiment among Germans, and to condition the masses for a representative government in the form of
G.P.G.

Phase Two would be more overt and would depend in part on the success of the propaganda efforts. As the first signs of disquiet were detected within the Reich's population,
G.P.G.
agents, many already waiting in Germany, would move in to organize and equip resistance movements. These would be handled on a regional basis, with each Minister advising on subversive activities within his zone of influence. Restlessness among Nazi politicians or Wehrmacht officers would be handled directly by a joint council comprised of the
G.P.G.
Ministers and United States
G.P.G.
liaison personnel. When the Third Reich finally collapsed, the German Provisional Government must be ready to move into any part of Germany—including Berlin.

When Julian finished speaking, the meeting was thrown open for ten minutes of questions.

“Major Julian,” Vetter said without rising, “is either Russia or England involved in this operation?”

“You know they are not.”

“Do you expect them to be?”

“Not at present.”

“Are you aware that I am a Communist?”

“Aha, so he finally admits it for one and all to hear,” Oswald Nebel jeered. “He finally comes out in the open and says what he is.”

“I am not as lucky as you, Herr Nebel,” Vetter replied. “The world already knows what
you
are.”

“Of course they do—the rightful winner of a mayoral election.”

“If honest votes were counted you wouldn't have been elected to an outhouse.”

“If by honest votes you mean the twenty thousand duplicate ballots you and your Red traitors had printed, I quite agree.”

“Herr Nebel, go find yourself another little boy to molest.”

“I
object
,” Nebel blustered. “I demand a formal apology. I
demand
—”

“Not on your whore mother's life.”

“What did you say?”

“I called your mother a whore, but you must excuse me. I was hasty. We all know she wasn't a whore. She was a professional Lesbian.”

Nebel dove across the table, seized the startled Vetter by the goatee and began pulling. Vetter struggled to free himself. His chair tipped over backward and both men crashed to the floor. Still Nebel held his grip. By the time the others reached them Nebel was banging Vetter's head against the table leg.

Nebel was dragged back to his place and held down. Vetter was lifted into his chair and revived with water.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, gentlemen,” Thomas Hutch admonished as he rose, “this is neither the time nor the place to reenact our ancient German political rituals. We have much more pressing matters to confront. Individually we can solve nothing, since our fate lies in the hands of our new masters. United we may be able to sue for more propitious treatment.

“Sir,” Hutch said, grasping his lapels and turning to Julian, “let us all face reality, the reality of the people you have assembled in this room. Only sheer desperation could have brought together such a pathetic group.

“If you were looking for politicians, what a sorry course you have run! Only three of the persons at this table ever ran for elected office; the other four held only minor political appointments. Two of the three who
did
run for office were involved in one of the most scandalous electoral contests ever held in Germany. The loser was jailed for fraud, and the winner was subsequently impeached on so many counts that no one can remember them all. The one remaining elected officeholder, myself, won a minor post when his heavily favored opponent dropped dead the day before balloting. Our combined electoral strength—legal and illegal—could hardly elect a respectable zoo keeper.

“If you are thinking of us as
exiles
, then the picture is slightly more optimistic. Five of us had to flee Germany, but not necessarily for political reasons. If you hope that we are anti-Nazi exiles, then the picture is bleaker still. Three of us here have served happily under the Nazis. Two were fired for simple incompetence, and the third, Hilka Tolan, was jailed because of her father's personal enemies, not political enemies.

“But you knew most of this before you went to such trouble to bring us here. So then I must ask: Why bother in the first place? The answer is self-evident: There was no one else left.

“Good Major, why waste time with questions and answers? Most of us are so politically inept we really don't know what to ask you. Tell us, and we will do what we must. We will sign what you want, say what you want, endorse what you want, legislate what you want, do everything and anything you want—with one exception: we will not submit to hypocrisy.

“We admit to our ineptitude—and it is our strength. Kind Major, if you had to come to us, how utterly desperate your situation must be. And since it is so desperate, we must be more valuable to you than you care to admit.

“I therefore submit the following recommendations on behalf of myself and my colleagues. First, that our yearly salaries be doubled, and extended to the natural lifetime of each one of us. Secondly, I submit that should the Provisional Government in fact become the governing body of postwar Germany, our positions as Ministers should not be subject to election. The Ministry can simply be an appointed body—something like your own Supreme Court, for example? And, as with your Supreme Court, our appointments should also be for a lifetime. Next, I believe it only equitable that when a Chancellor is subsequently appointed, he should be selected from the six men here. After that I feel—”

Julian left the room.

Hutch looked up at Kittermaster. “Did I say something wrong?”

“You're doing just fine, my friend,
fine!
”

“Then may I continue the negotiations with you, Colonel?”

“The negotiations just ended.”

“Sir, in the best interest of our future—”

“Tom, in the best interest of your good health, I've got a little suggestion: Do what you're told.”

“Or what, Colonel?”

“Or you get your head blown off, that's what.”

Kittermaster stepped to the ornate door and waved his hand. The lights dimmed and the guards reappeared. Within a minute the chamber was empty and still, the only light a bright projection lamp shining on the unused Throne.

26

It was a curious raid.

Thick February storm clouds had crept down the Continent, enveloping northern Europe. From the upper end of the Latium plains to the Aller the blizzards raged. The Luftwaffe knew the American bombers were on their way as soon as they passed over Umbria, seventy-five planes in all—and this is where the confusion began.

The Americans generally preferred to attack during daylight. Now they were coming three hours before dawn. The Americans had always preferred clear weather for their strikes. Now they were buffeting through a storm. Only northern Germany was clear. The Luftwaffe would have expected the attack there to come from the long-range bombers, the B-24s. But the Americans were sending over their B-26s. Only one B-24 had been spotted.

The fighter escorts turned back near the Adriatic coast. The Messerschmitts attacked minutes later. Twelve B-26s spiraled down in smoke. Still the medium-bomber wing droned northward.

At 0400 hours the storm was easing in the west. Friedrichshafen, Ulm and Freiburg were visible. This, the Germans concluded, was where the strike would come now. Preparations were made. It was 0430 hours and sleeting in Munich when the first bombs exploded. Two passes were made. The aircraft circled and headed back to Italy with one exception: a solitary B-26 in the armada dropped altitude and continued north into the storm.

It was dawn when the pilot alerted the crew. The aircraft descended under the thinning clouds and leveled off. The bomb-bay doors opened and the aerial cameras were readied. A moment later they began photographing the terrain along the Sola River in which a railroad siding known as Auschwitz should appear.