Authors: The Sands of Sakkara (html)
Canaris read the signal again,
then held it up. 'Can you be absolutely certain of this information?'
'All SD agents abroad were ordered
to use whatever means necessary to gather intelligence about the Teheran and
your own people were. One of our American agents spotted the battleship
remarkable about that, you might say, but we suspected a ship of the
needed more information. Fortunately for us, Deacon came up trumps. He managed
to get photographs of a top-secret memo which was kept in the American
ambassador's private safe at his
night via a Spanish diplomatic courier.'
'How in God's name did this fellow
Deacon manage to photograph the memo?'
Schellenberg grinned. 'Some weeks
ago he signaled us with details of a special compound being built at the site
of the famous Mena House hotel, near the Giza pyramids, and strong rumours he'd
gathered that some sort of important meeting was soon to take place. Naturally,
he was urgently instructed to collect more information, but all he turned up
was confirmation that large numbers of troops and army engineers had been
drafted into the hotel area, which was sealed off by the military. It suggested
to me it might be the location of the proposed conference. In desperation, I
personally ordered Deacon to try to breach security at either the British
residency or the American embassy: they were the most likely places information
would be kept. It was a tall order, brazen and dangerous in the extreme, but
after surveillance he estimated that both locations were too tightly guarded.'
'And impossible to break into, I
would have thought.'
'Which was why Deacon turned his
attention to the American residency. The ambassador's home was less closely
guarded.
He learned from a Spanish diplomat
that the ambassador would attend a gala dinner at the Turkish embassy a week
later, and so the die was cast. He employed a burglar, one of the best in
necessary.' Schellenberg smiled. 'But the kernel of the matter is the American
President definitely intends visiting
and we know the approximate dates. A rather heavensent opportunity not to be
missed, don't you think?'
'What if the information is meant
to mislead us?'
'Come now, do you really think it
would be kept in a heavily guarded safe if the Allies actually wanted us to
find it?
And Deacon is certain no one can
possibly suspect that he had the residency burgled and the memo photographed.
Which means we have the element of surprise.'
Canaris put the signal down, disbelief
on his face. 'You're serious, aren't you? You're really planning to go ahead
with this.'
Schellenberg nodded. 'I considered
an attempt in Teheran during the conference there, but
hostile a territory.
With so many Allied troops about,
and Stalin's paranoia, such a mission would be fraught with difficulties.
However,
longer a threat. And it's way behind the front lines, so the Allies would never
expect us to strike. But naturally, it isn't our only iron. We'll have the
Luftwaffe and our Uboat wolf packs in the Atlantic on the alert, in the hope
they can locate
it. But I wouldn't hold my breath, which is why we shall proceed with the plan
as if our very lives depended on it.'
'And what exactly do you intend?'
'Unfortunately, the memo didn't
disclose where
his security arrangements, which poses us a problem, but not an insurmountable
one. As for the mission, it will break down into two parts, much the same plan
we used to get Mussolini. First, we'll send in a small, select team to pinpoint
exactly where the President and Prime Minister will be staying and the strength
of their protection. Once they've done that, they'll try to find a way in -
there are always weak links in any security, as you well know.
'When they've achieved that
objective, they radio us. Then begins the second and final phase of the
operation. I'll have a couple of plane-loads of Skorzeny's crack SS paratroops
ready and waiting at an Italian airbase. A hundred of his very finest
specialist troops - the toughest, hardest, most highly trained the SS can
provide - and we both know our SS paratroops are the absolute best in the
world. The kind of men who are willing to lay down their lives for the Fiihrer
without a moment's hesitation.
Once we get the signal, they'll be
flown to Cairo and land at an airfield near the city, which our team on the
ground will have secured beforehand, along with any equipment - trucks,
vehicles, and so on - necessary to help Skorzeny's men make their way to the
target. If the intention is to quarter Roosevelt at the Mena House, which I
strongly suspect, so much the better, and a good omen for us. Skorzeny's SS
have already shown they can penetrate such a heavily fortified hotel, as they
did in
They'll be in and out so fast, the Allies won't know what's hit them.'
'Why not kill Churchill as well
while you're at it?' Canaris said, shrugging offhandedly.
'One target is always easier to
hit than two. To kill Churchill as well would be a wonderful bonus, and if the
opportunity presents itself, I assure you it will be taken. But
Canaris sighed. 'I still think
it's folly. The Allies' security will be as tight as a bank vault. On the
ground and in the air.'
Schellenberg smiled. 'As we've
seen with Mussolini, there are always ways to crack open a vault, my friend.
And you fail to appreciate the rewards if we succeed. The death of either
leader would be a godsend, but
quartermaster when it comes to supplies. With him out of the way, the Allies
would be thrown into disarray. And with their President dead, I doubt the
Americans would have the stomach for an invasion next summer, as the British
and Russians are demanding. It would probably split the Allied powers apart,
which would suit us nicely and give us enough time to regain the upper hand.
And think of the propaganda value - it would be an incredible boost to our
troops' morale. Besides, a lesson is needed here, I think.
The Americans will have to learn
they can't bomb German cites with impunity, and interfere in a war that's
really none of their business. It's about time they had their faces slapped.'
'Are you saying the mission is
definitely going ahead?'
'Unless our U-boats or the
Luftwaffe somehow miraculously succeed in destroying the
have a name - Operation Sphinx.'
'Then you're way ahead of me. Who
gave the order?'
'Himmler.'
Canaris shook his head in dismay.
'Don't tell me the Fiihrer approves of this madness?'
'He's already given the mission
top priority. See for yourself Schellenberg handed across a signed letter from
the file, and Canaris saw the signature of Adolf Hitler underneath.
He read the letter and looked up.
'A joint operation between the Abwehr and SD is most unusual.'
'I agree. But the Fiihrer's still
upset about that last fiasco of yours in Cairo - he can't quite decide if it
was disloyalty or incompetence - which is why he wants me to take the lead on
this one, but with your help. So I'm certain he'd be rather annoyed if you
didn't put in your oar and give any assistance necessary.' Schellenberg grinned
slyly. 'Worse still, God forbid that he might be tempted to put you in the same
class as those who plot against him.'
The Abwehr, while able to think up
the most grandiose schemes, was sometimes woefully inept in carrying them out.
Their top spy in Egypt, John
Eppler, had been apprehended the previous year, caught by the British when the
sterling bank notes he was supplied with for his mission turned out to be
excellent but flawed forgeries, which ultimately led to his arrest. But there
was an even graver mistake Canaris had wisely kept to himself.
The previous year, one of his
agents in
tip-off that Roosevelt and Churchill were meeting in
place to
But because the agent was a Spaniard, some idiot in the Abwehr translated
the Allied leaders were planning a meeting, not in North Africa, but in the
White House in
Canaris blushed at the threat as
he put down the letter. 'It seems I have little choice. Which of my people had
you got in mind?'
'First, I'll have need of one of
your Egyptian agents. Preferably someone living in a remote desert location,
not more than a couple of days' travel from
Canaris shrugged. 'I can think of
one or two who might be suitable. But go on.'
'Second, I thought Jack Haider
would be perfect to lead the initial team we send in to set everything up. He's
one of your best men, knows his way around
to see the whole thing through. He's also American by birth and can speak
English with a flawless American or British accent, thanks to his time at
be useful when it comes time to get access to
quarters.'
Canaris's face darkened. 'So
that's why his file was requested yesterday by the Reichsfuhrer's office? I
thought it had to do with that business in
Schellenberg smiled. 'You must
admit Haider has an impressive reputation. It's almost part of military legend
how he managed to infiltrate Allied lines while serving in
Africa
A month in
in the guise of a British officer, gathering intelligence under the very noses
of the enemy? Quite a remarkable feat, I would have thought.'
'He's certainly one of my best,
but you're wasting your time.' Canaris shook his head. 'If you've read his file
you'll know he's lost his edge after all that unpleasant business with his
father and son. He doesn't seem to have the interest any more, and spends most
of his time out at a summer cottage his father owned, overlooking the lakeshore
at Wannsee. I visited him there last month and he looked unhappy as hell.’
Schellenberg said grimly, 'Yes,
all rather tragic, what happened.
But what if I could convince him
otherwise?'
'It's still a suicide trap,
Walter. You'd be sending him to certain death.'
'I assure you the plan can
succeed,' Schellenberg said firmly.
'And those who survive the
operation will return safely.
Furthermore, I think you'll agree
when you're briefed on the details in full.'
Canaris knew there was little
point in arguing. He shrugged wearily in defeat. 'Knowing Haider, I suppose
there's a slim chance it could work.'
Schellenberg gave a wintry smile.
'It's got to. Otherwise Himmler assures me the Fiihrer will have our heads.'
'But a week is no time at all to
set up a mission like this.'
'Which is why things will have to
proceed at a very rapid pace from here on. There's absolutely no time to lose.'
It was just after eleven that same
morning when Schellenberg's Mercedes pulled up outside the secluded lakeshore
cottage at Wannsee, ten kilometers west of
the Grunewald was a favorite among senior German military officers, many of
whom kept magnificent summer homes there. The rain-clouds had gone and it was
glorious for November, with clear skies and bright autumn sunshine.
The single-storey, white-painted
wooden cottage looked out on to a perfect view of the lake. It had a picket
fence and a small veranda, and Schellenberg smiled when he noticed a woman's
bicycle propped against the fence. He went up the steps, carrying a leather
briefcase and his officer's silver-topped riding crop.
The front door was unlocked and he
stepped into a tiny living room. The place was no more than a couple of rooms,
with a sofa on each side of a stone fireplace, a table and chairs, a tiny
kitchen and a single bedroom leading off. There were some books on the shelves,
a brass bust of King Tut, and two silver framed photographs of a rather striking
blond-haired woman and a young boy, but the room was in some disarray. He
noticed an unfinished bottle of champagne and two glasses on the coffee table,
a pair of women's shoes and a grey uniform skirt lying discarded on the floor.
There were some fresh cotton towels on the back of a chair.
'Haider? Are you there?'
A moment later the bedroom door
opened and a pretty female corporal came out. She wore only the top part of her
uniform, her bare legs and underwear showing, a look of surprise on her face as
she grabbed one of the towels and covered herself.
'Who in God's name are you?'
Schellenberg smiled. 'I might ask
the same question, fraulein.
General Walter Schellenberg. And
you?'
She looked young and ravishing,
her hair tousled, as if she had just climbed out of bed, but when she took in
the SS black uniform and heard the name, her expression changed and she flushed
with embarrassment.
'Hei - Heidi Schmidt, Wehrmacht Nursing Corps.'
'Charmed, I'm sure. Relax, Heidi,
you're not on parade.
Perhaps you can tell me where
Haider is.'
'He - he said he was going for a
run and a swim.'
'Is he a friend of yours?'
'We - we met the other night in a
bar in Wannsee,' the girl stammered. 'He seemed quite down, so I - I cycled
over here after my duty to see if he was all right.'
Schellenberg grinned. 'Brought out
the maternal instinct in you, did he? Still, I'm glad to see someone's keeping
him company. God knows he needs it right now. Is that your bicycle I saw
outside?'
'Yes, sir.'
Schellenberg bent to pick up the
discarded skirt with the tip of his riding crop, and held it out to the girl.
'Well now, Heidi. I think it might be wise if you got dressed and ran along.
Haider and I have some business to attend to and I really don't want us to be
disturbed.'
Jack Haider sweated as he ran
along the lakeshore. His shirt was off, his tanned bare chest covered in small
scars, and he wore plimsolls and a pair of loose cotton training pants. There
were touches of premature grey in his hair and the beginnings of wrinkles
around his eyes, but the same wry smile was fixed permanently in place, though
it looked a little solemn that morning. He clutched a stopwatch in his hand,
and when he reached some rocks at the edge of the shore he halted, clicked the
stopwatch and looked at the result with dismay.
'Damn it, you can do better than
that, Haider.'
He started to run again, gave a
burst of power, the sweat pumping now after a brisk five-kilometer run. As he
rounded the cove and reached the rocks he saw the black-uniformed officer
sitting in the sand, a grin on his face, a cigarette in his hand.
Haider came to a halt, took
several deep breaths and stared over at Schellenberg, who simply smiled. 'Well,
Jack, trying to get into shape again, I see. Always a good sign. I had thought
of joining you for a swim, but I think I'll give it a miss. Here, you need this
more than me.'
Schellenberg had a towel in his
hand and he tossed it to Haider, who caught it and wiped the perspiration from
his face.
'You bastard, what the hell do you
want?'
'That's no way to greet an old
comrade.' Schellenberg glanced at Haider's scarred chest. 'You seem to have
healed quite nicely. And by the way, I rather liked the young lady who's been
giving you comfort.' Then he said, more seriously, 'Did she help ease the pain
any, my friend?'
'That's none of your damned
business.'
'You're quite right.' Schellenberg
stood, wiped sand from his uniform and picked up his briefcase. 'Now, how about
we go up to the cottage? There's something I'd like to discuss.'
Schellenberg poured the last of
the champagne into two flute glasses and handed one to Haider, who shook his
head.
'Not for me. What do you want?' He
had showered and changed into a shirt and slacks, and sat on the sofa.
'Just a little chat between
friends,' Schellenberg answered.
'Military business, I'm afraid.'
'The last time I heard those lines
was over four months ago.
You had Canaris have me pose as an
American intelligence officer to help rescue one of your SS generals from an
interrogation post behind enemy lines in
I ended up with a bullet in my leg and grenade shrapnel in my chest.'
Schellenberg sipped from his
glass. 'Unfortunate that, but no one could have played the role as believably
as you, which was why we needed you in the first place. And you lived up to my
expectations and succeeded admirably. You're certain you won't have some
champagne, Jack? It's really delicious.'
'Go to hell.'
Schellenberg shrugged and glanced
at the bottle. 'An excellent Dom Perignon, '36. You're looking after yourself,
I see.'
'For your information, the
champagne was a gift from a friend.'
'No need to explain.' Schellenberg
plucked a book from one of the shelves. 'The Collected Works of Carl Jung.
Rather depressing reading, his philosophy, I would have thought.
Old Carl isn't exactly one for a
joke and a laugh.'
'It goes with the mood I'm in
right now.'
'What are we going to do with you,
my friend?' Schellenberg replaced the book on the shelf and looked at the
silver-framed photograph of the woman. He turned back. 'You loved her very
much, didn't you, Jack?'
Schellenberg saw a terrible grief
flood Haider's face, a fathomless sadness in his eyes. He stood and said
awkwardly, 'The Wehrmacht girl you met, she's just a nice kid. Someone I got
drunk with and poured out my soul to. Maybe I finally needed to talk to
someone. And if you really want to know, she didn't help ease the pain.'
'It hasn't been easy for you these
last few years, has it? Losing a young wife, and then what happened in
sorry to hear about your father,' Schellenberg said quietly. 'I mean that. I
hope you'll accept my condolences. I hear the boy's still recovering?'
'And will be for a long time. All
water under the bridge now.
Let's leave it be.'
Schellenberg put down his glass
and became more businesslike.
'But you're still angry, and quite
rightly so. And it's an anger I can put to good use.' He undid the straps on
his briefcase, plucked out a file and laid it on the table.
'What's that?'
'It concerns what happened to your
father and son. Our latest intelligence reports on the Allied fire-bombing
raids on
'What about it?'
'It seems the raids had the
highest approval of the British and American governments. Both agreed they
wanted absolute and total destruction, to teach
out to be the worst single act of devastation in world history. Do you know the
full extent of the damage?'
Haider said angrily, 'Look,
Schellenberg, all I know is I lost my father, and my son's burned so badly
he'll be lucky if he ever walks again.'
'Your father certainly chose the
wrong time to visit relatives in
Haider was bitter. 'I was on my
back in hospital, recovering after that little escapade you arranged in
¦was being looked after by his grandfather.'
'Not for a moment can you blame me
for what happened, Jack. The Allies committed an utterly insane act. Ten square
kilometers of
second city wiped out, over sixty thousand dead, mostly civilians, and a
hundred thousand injured.
The use of incendiary fire-bombs
was deliberate, to cause maximum civilian casualties. I hear the city was like
a scene from hell - people burning like torches, the heat so intense the
flaming asphalt made the streets look like rivers of fire. And the feeling is
the Allies may intend the same for
sooner rather than later. Goebbels has already ordered the evacuation of a
million citizens.'
Haider ignored the file, a harsh
look on his face. 'Get to the point.'
'There's a matter I wish to
discuss. Something rather daring and dangerous that perhaps may put a little
life back into that tortured soul of yours. Canaris has offered to loan you to
me, if you agree.'
'I don't work for the SD. And the
answer's no, whatever it is.
I'm not interested. Me, I'm
content to sit out the rest of the war in
'And then what? Wait for the
Allies to hang you as a traitor?
You may be a German citizen, but
you're American-born, and with your war record it's quite a likely scenario.
Where would your son be then? He needs you, Jack. Even more so now. And do you
really think Canaris could allow you to relax in
Now that your wounds are healed,
he'd use you every chance he got, especially with the war going the way it is.
Which rather diminishes your chances of remaining alive. On the other hand, if
you help me with this mission, we'll wipe the slate clean and you're free to
go.'
'You mean leave the Abwehr?'
'I mean leave
away from the war, if that's what you wish.' Schellenberg saw the surprise on
Haider's face.
'You have my word on it, Jack. And
Himmler's and the Fiihrer's. You and your son can start a new life together,
somewhere safe and far from here.'
Haider frowned. 'And what's the
price I've got to pay?'
Schellenberg smiled. 'You're ahead
of the posse, as they say.'
'So tell me.'
And Schellenberg told him.
Haider looked bewildered for
several moments, then he laughed. 'Walter, you're definitely going crazy in
your old age.'
'I assure you, the plan's
feasible. And you know me, I always do my homework thoroughly.'
'The admiral knows about this?'
'It's to be a joint operation.
Unusual, I know, but necessary under the circumstances. I shall take personal
command of the planning and briefing.'
Haider crossed to the window, ran
a hand through his hair, and looked back. 'Kill
I know you think I'm an adventurer, but believe me, that doesn't include a
vocation for suicide. Whoever accepted the mission would have about as much
chance of surviving as a one-legged man of escaping a forest fire.’
Schellenberg laughed. 'An
interesting comparison, but hardly valid. The plan is quite simple, really.
Once you and the team reach
you'd be established in a safe house. Any equipment you might need to move
around the city with relative freedom - Allied uniforms and vehicles - should
already have been secured for you by my agents, and they'll provide any further
help you might need. All you have to do is affirm exactly where
House - and find a weakness in their security that can be breached. You'll also
need to secure a small airfield, about ten kilometers south of the
largely unprotected.
Once your objectives have been
achieved, you radio us. When our SS paratroops land you lead them to the target
and leave the rest to them. After that, we get you out.'
'How?'
'The same way Skorzeny's men will
get out - by air.'
'You mean if anyone's lucky enough
to survive. And why the hell do you need me?'
'I told you, my agents in
fellows, but they would be incapable of handling such a mission all by
themselves. You, on the other hand, are a perfect candidate.