David Perkins: Hitler's Astrologer

“Mistake?” DeWohl asked directly to Everton. “Where? How?”

“Here!” Everton tapped on the Caucasus. “Right here. He is changing his mind! He won’t go after the heart of Russia.” Everton pointed at Moscow. “Oil. He’s going after the oil. Not Stalin the man. He’s going after Stalin the place , to get his oil.”

Outside of Admiral Payne and DeWohl, who grasped the idea that Hitler had changed his objective in midstream, going after the oil fields in the Caucasus instead of Stalin and his central government in Moscow, no one fully understood the comments of Lord Everton. Not until a month later would his comments make sense when Germany’s Sixth Army and Fourth Panzer Army would clash with the Soviet Armies in Stalingrad.

DeWohl picked up the room service menu. “Look, we can start with the American Salad, we haven’t tried that yet.”

Without realizing it, DeWohl had made the wrong selection. The word “American” reminded her the Count was in America and she was not, as well as the reason they were not together in America. The current dissatisfaction with DeWohl added to the unpleasant feeling of the unresolved issue with her husband that only doubled her irritation.

“Men! You never listen!”

“Countess, please. We agreed not to stereotype each other, remember?”

“Excuse me, then, you – Count Louis DeWohl – never listen!” The Countess mocked DeWohl’s falsely acquired new title. DeWohl was bewildered as to how simply suggesting a salad could make a woman so angry. He did not know his suggestion took her mind back to a moment several weeks before.

The Count and Countess both surprised each other in New Orleans, arriving together at the same party with different partners. Neither knew the other was in New Orleans at the time, for the Count had traveled to New York while the Countess remained in Chicago.

While each accepted the ‘occasional outside attraction’ and tolerated the occasional affair that resulted from such, something happened at this particular event in New Orleans. Something neither the Count nor Countess realized at the time. They both became jealous.

The Countess felt insecure the way Mrs. Arthur Finley carried herself with the Count, as if she had some kind of control over him. Infuriated, the Count could not believe the Countess ended up with the American banker he despised from the start since first meeting him in London and betrayed him in Holland; Prescott Bush.

How did they meet ? The Count wondered, when he saw them enter the Mardi Gras party at the Hotel Monteleone. They did not meet in London while I met with the Americans, nor in Holland when the deal was to be finalized. The Count thought more. He must have sought her out. He’s playing her to get to me. The Count’s anger raised even more. Not only had the tables been turned with someone using the same tactics as the Count, but this was being done in a very personal nature – using his wife.”

After New Orleans, the Count returned to New York with Mrs. Wilkins, and the Countess returned to London… alone. What the Count did afterwards is unknown. The Countess merely passed in circles of those she already knew. Louis DeWohl certainly being now one of the links in this circle of friends.

“Let’s start over.” DeWohl began. “We were laughing and joking, and then you mentioned food. Usually when you mention food, this is a signal you are hungry, and I make a suggestion that was on the menu. Then you became angry.”

“Oh shut up!”

“But Countess, I’m merely trying to help.”

“Help? I ought to go to the Naval Office right now, and tell them what a phony, a fraud, you are. In fact I ought to tell them your real name!”

Panic ran though DeWohl. His rank, social position and salary were now all in jeopardy.

The Countess began to collect her coat and purse.

“Please, Countess, where are you going?”

“Away from here .” She shouted as she slammed the door.

DeWohl wondered if she would follow through on her threat.

Maxi again carefully made a sweep around the neighborhood with his eyes – no uniform police, no apparent Gestapo agents. “So far, so good.” He thought.

Francis Endels sat in the back seat with an old Vickers sub-machine gun under a spread out newspaper. “Any minute now.” Endels said, looking down the alley servicing the back of several buildings, one being the feared Gestapo headquarters.

Maxi’s regular taxi was back in his company’s garage so he would not be implicated. Should they be successful, this marked taxi would be found and studied. Being used was a taxi that had been salvaged and modified from the parts of other taxis over the years for just such mission. Armor plating on both sides and rear, and protection for parts of the engine were added as well as an 8- cylinder engine instead of the standard four.

Maxi and Endels’ job was as the getaway car. The other car in the team, driven by Max Rupert, would ‘accidentally’ crash into the Gestapo car as it pulled out of the alley. The plan called for hitting the driver’s door hard, hopefully taking out the driver and devices of the car to eliminate it being used to pursue Maxi and Endels.

“Sorry to hear about Otto.” Endels said while still watching the ally.

“He’s probably in there right now.” Maxi’s eyes continued to scan the environment. “I wonder how they found him.”

“They also picked up Johanstall. It must have come from his side. Otto was always careful. Very careful.”

“Do you know who will take his place at the radio station?”

“I don’t know. Is it important?

“ Important ? That’s how all of our messages got out of Berlin! You didn’t know? Otto and some American chap, Armstrong, developed a way to have a radio wave travel inside another undetected, unless you have the right equipment. Otto was using Germany’s own radio station to get his messages out of the country.”

“Yea, that Otto was something.” Maxi now had an even greater appreciation for his good friend. “We never talked about his work, I guess we thought it would be…”

“Look!” Endels became excited. “Rupert is starting his car!”

Maxi started his car as well. He didn’t see anyone open the back garage door to the Gestapo building, but the instructions were that when Rupert started his car, Maxi was to follow as well.

At the opposite entrance of the ally, a black sedan with a driver and passenger pulled up the back entrance of Gestapo Headquarters. “How did Rupert see that coming?” Endels wondered aloud.

“I’ll ask him when we’re finished.” Maxi noticed his palms were sweating, and tried to ignore it. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

The back garage door to Gestapo headquarters opened and two uniformed guards stepped out with Captain Best Payne between them. “That’s him!” Endels was clearly excited.

A man in civilian clothes signed a paper in a clipboard given to him by one of the uniformed guards, then pushed Payne into the back seat. After giving the Nazi salute, they entered themselves and sat next to their prisoner.

“Here we go.” Maxi whispered to himself.

The black sedan idled for a few moments, when another car entered the ally and stopped behind it, also bearing the plates that identified it as Gestapo as well.

“Uh oh.” Endels moaned in pain.

Maxi and Endels both looked over to Rupert’s car with their mouths open. Rupert shrugged his shoulders and gunned his engine. They were only expecting one car, this extra car might change things… for the worst.