Skorzeny listened in disbelief. “But you would have to detonate it in Germany. And if you did, the Americans would drop some of their own atomic bombs on our heads, or had you forgotten what they are up to in New Mexico?”
Himmler snarled. “I forget nothing. Regardless, I have a task for you. Our beloved generals are planning a coup. They are going to try to overthrow me and place Rommel in my stead. Apparently that was von Rundstedt’s plan all along, which is why Rommel didn’t have a field command. Von Rundstedt and the other generals seem to think that Rommel is saintly enough to make him acceptable to the Allies. My intelligence says Rommel is on his way to Berlin with several thousand soldiers loyal to him. They are to arrest me, and doubtless you as well.”
Himmler’s hands shook as he lit a cigarette. “Your orders are simple, Skorzeny, you are to intercept Rommel and kill him. That will buy all of us time. My staff estimates we have two to three months before the Allies arrive here.”
Skorzeny laughed. It came out as a cackle. “You have maybe three weeks, Reichsfuhrer. Yes, Dietrich did maul the American First Army before he and his men ceased to exist, but Patton’s Third is beginning to run loose to the First’s south. And, in case you’ve forgotten, Montgomery’s entire army group is also starting to cross the Rhine to the north. Not even he will take two to three months to drive to Berlin. The English want your head on a platter as much as the Americans do.”
“We’ll stop them at the Elbe,” Himmler said.
Skorzeny scoffed. “Compared with the Rhine, the Elbe is a stream a man can piss across. The Elbe won’t even slow down the Amis. They will ride up in their little ducks and simply drive across. Himmler, half the army is dead, wounded, or captured, while the other half is looking for a way to surrender or is burying their uniforms and trying to pretend they are civilians. Maybe a few of your fanatics will delay the Allies for a short while, but that is all.”
“We must have time,” Himmler said stubbornly, his voice breaking.
Skorzeny stood and paced, winding up beside Himmler. “Perhaps you have an eternity,” he said.
In one fluid motion, he removed the knife he’d hidden in his sleeve, slipped it into his hand and drew it across Himmler’s throat. The Reichsfuhrer’s eyes widened in shock and he tried to speak. Copious amounts of blood poured out of the wide gash and onto his desk. A few seconds later he slumped forward, dead.
Skorzeny wiped the blade on Himmler’s sleeve and replaced it. He’d been frisked but not carefully. For some reason, no one had wanted to touch him.
He opened the door a little and backed out. “Heil Himmler,” he said and gave the Nazi salute to the dead man only he could see. He closed the door behind him.
Skorzeny stared at the people waiting to see Himmler. “The Reichsfuhrer had just been given information that he must study. He requires at least an hour of privacy, perhaps more. After that he will call you. On his orders, you are not to bother him.”
Heads bobbed in understanding. Fools, Skorzeny thought. He went downstairs and outside to where Davidov awaited with a staff car. The Russian had also recovered from his radiation poison and other injuries.
On to Spain, Skorzeny thought. The warm sun would speed his recovery.
Truman tried to keep pace with the rapidly changing scenario. Himmler was dead and Rommel was in charge, although he hadn’t given himself a title just yet. The use of the word “Fuhrer” was too distasteful thanks to Hitler and Himmler.
“Tell Rommel that unconditional surrender still applies,” Truman said. “The German armies will lay down their arms.”
“He will agree,” said Marshall. “Rommel is in complete control.” Himmler’s second in command, another monster named Kaltenbrunner had tried to take over, but had been killed in a brief fire-fight with troops loyal to Rommel.
Marshal continued. “But he wants assurances that all the German military can surrender to either the U.S. or Britain and not the Soviets.”
“Agreed. And tell Rommel that we will be moving our men through Germany and through what’s left of Poland to the Vistula River, which is where the Soviets have stopped. We expect full cooperation.”
“They wish to send von Papen to negotiate with us,” Stettinius said.
“Fine,” said Truman, “only have him meet with our people in Switzerland and then only to iron out any administrative details of a full and unconditional surrender to us and to England. I have no wish to speak to him at this time.”
“The Russians will be angry,” said Stettinius. “According to our Yalta agreement, they are entitled to Germany up to the Elbe River.”
“Fuck the Russians,” Truman said with a grim smile. “They bailed out and left us all alone out on that proverbial limb. Hell, they even sold tanks to the Nazis. We don’t owe the commies a damn thing. You tell Prime Minister Zhukov he can’t have any more of Poland than he’s already seized.”
“But that means he will keep eastern Poland,” Marshall said.
“Can’t win ’em all. Maybe the Soviets will choke on Poland and the other countries they’ve swiped. But we are not going to fight a war with the Reds.” He grinned wickedly. “At least not right away. Now, is it true they’ve stopped looking for Stalin?”
“It is,” said Marshall with the hint of a smile. “Apparently large numbers of workers excavating the Kremlin site have come down with radiation sickness and a lot of them have died. They can’t even get prisoners to work there. They feel they have a better chance of living to old age in a gulag in Siberia.”
Truman laughed. “If Stalin ever does come out, he’ll be glowing in the dark. Well, since we now know for certain that an atomic bomb will work and we’re so close to having one of our own isn’t it time we finished off the damned Japs?”
CHAPTER 27
It had been years since Varner had ridden a bicycle and his legs hurt from the effort. However, it was the best way of finding his way to his family. Cars were few and gasoline in short supply.
Schurmer had been right. The code-names had been a magic wand, a real get out of jail card. Instead of years in a prison camp, like so many will be enduring, he’d only spent a couple of months and most of that simply waiting for the inevitable bureaucratic snarls to clear up. Finally, he’d been given a pass and an identity card which he’d had to show several times before clearing the prison area along with several more times since then. After all, he still wore a German uniform and carried the rank of general.
He’d managed to write to Magda and gotten notes from her. Again, his exalted status as a friend of the United States, however undeserved, helped him. Magda had told him frankly and candidly of the terrible times they’d endured. She said that the two Jewish refugees were still at the farm waiting for things to settle while the Brit had gone to find his unit. A good man, Varner thought. No, good men. They’d saved his wife and daughter from a terrible death.
He pedaled through a village. Where had all the swastikas gone, he wondered with intended irony. The history of the Third Reich was being whitewashed away. He sighed. A coat of paint would not be enough to erase the horrors. Many high ranking Nazis would pay with their lives for their sins and their arrogance.
The Allies had been wise to let Rommel continue on as a figurehead leader. Although once a dedicated Nazi, Rommel had turned on the war criminals who had nearly destroyed Europe with a vengeance. He was making plans with the Allies for new elections in Germany. The Nazi Party, of course, would be prohibited.
Himmler was dead, but scores of SS leaders and a number of other high ranking Nazis were in custody awaiting trial or were running for their lives. Included in the latter group were Volkmar Detloff’s father, who was rumored to be in Switzerland. Volkmar, that fool, was in a hospital, a cripple. A tank had run over his legs, smashing them. He would live as either a cripple or an amputee.