Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

asked tentatively.

"What?" Hess looked up. "Oh. The message. To Karlheinz Pintsch: Have

my Messerschmitt fully fueled and ready for a round-trip flight to

Berlin. I want nine-hundredliter drop tanks fitted and filled. Got

that?"

"Jawohl, Herr Reichminister!"

Hess kicked the Mercedes into gear and raced down winding mountain road

as fast as the snow would allow.

I ma God! he thought with exhi aration- I am the n who will seal the

peace with England ... and open the road to Moscow!

With Reinhard Heydrich's help, Hess remembered uneasily. He touched the

envelope in his coat pocket. With a shiver he suddenly recalled the

story he had heard about Heydrich. Apparently the "blond beast"-after

an exhausting night of drinking and whoring-had caught sight of his own

reflection in a lavatory mirror. Wild -eyed and sweating, scum!" then

he had screamed, "At last I've got you, whipped out his pistol and

emptied it through the glass.

Hess felt a cold chill of presentiment, but he quickly shook it off. One

could not pick one's allies in the war against the Bolshevik and the

Jew. Sometimes it took a beast to slay a beast. If the Fuhrer trusted

Heydrich, there was nothing more to be said. Hess had other things to

worry about. A night flight to Britain, for example.

Englishmen who had survived the hell of Hermann Goring's terror bombing

would not mince words if Hess landed alone and unprotected in their

country. They would do their talking with bullets. And that's fine,

Hess thought. I've faced bullets before; I can do it again. The mere

thought of his destination brought a strange quickening to his blood.

England!

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

January 7, 1941, The Bavarian Alps Obergruppenfiihrer Reinhard Heydrich,

Reich Commissar for the Consolidation of German @tock and chief of the

SD, landed at Ainring Airport near Berchtesgaden just two hours after

Rudolf Hess delivered Hitler's unexpected message to Berlin. Like Hess,

Heydrich piloted himself, and upon landing he commandeered a convertible

Porsche from a local Gestapo sergeant. The sergeant professed great

pleasure at being able to help the Obergruppenfiihrer, but inside he

felt only despair. He knew that even if the beautiful car were returned

a burned-out wreck, he could say nothing. Men who angered Reinhard

Heydrich had been known to disappear without a trace.

The open Porsche rocketed along the blacked-out highway, half-sliding

around curves made deadly by a sudden winter shower.

Heydrich drove stonefaced despite the brittle drops that stung his skin

and eyes. The frigid wind would have driven any normal man to groan in

pain, but the young Obergruppenfiihrer prided himself on his ability to

control his human weaknesses. The fact that he was quite mad aided him

considerably in this task.

Unlike most of Hitler's chieftains, Heydrich seemed the incarnation of

the mythical Aryan superman. Tall and blond, blue-eyed, spare and

muscular of frame,.he carried himself with the self-assurance of a crown

prince. A jarring amalgam of opposites, Heydrich put every man he met

off balance. A world-class fencer, he had been asked to join the German

Olympic team, yet tales of his homosexual conquests were whispered in SS

barracks throughout the Reich.

He was an accomplished violinist who not only brought tears to the eyes

of his audiences, but sometimes cried himself during particularly

beautiful passages. Yet his sadistic rampages through Eastern Europe

would eventually cause Czech partisans to christen him the "Butcher of

Prague," and British intelligence to order his assassination. And the

most telling paradox of all: Reinhard Heydrich-the man who had vowed to

"eliminate the strain" of Jewry from the world-had Jewish blood flowing

through his veins.

At the outer gate of Obersalzburg, the SS guards eyed the approaching

Porsche with suspicion. When they recognized its driver, however, they

snapped to attention and waved Heydrich through. The sentries at the

inner gate displayed the same deference, and he soon reached the summit

of the mountain. The Berghof appeared to be under siege.

Most of the High Command had arrived during the afternoon; long black

staff cars overflowed the parking lot and encircled the rear of the

house. Heydrich picked a path through the cars, made his way around to

the front of the house, and opened the door without knocking.

An SS sergeant of the Liebstandarte Adolf Hitler had been posted in the

entry hall to meet him. After a curt salute, the sergeant whisked

Heydrich up the stairs to the bedrooms and indicated the door he wished

the SD chief to enter.

"You're to wait here, Herr Obergruppenftihrer. By order of the Fuhrer."

Heydrich looked mystified- "Am I not to attend the conference

downstairs?"

"Nein, Herr Obergruppenflihrer. Reichleiter Borrnann instructed me to

have you meet the Fuhrer in the teahouse, but I just received word that

he won't have time for the walk."

"We could drive," Heydrich suggested.

"The Fuhrer never drives to the teahouse."

The sergeant seemed to think this explanation sufficient.

Heydrich dismissed him and reached for the bedroom door handle, then

paused as another door opened farther down the hall. A blond woman

leaned furtively out; Heydrich registered an ample bosom beneath a

rather plain face before she ducked back inside. Only after entering

the small bedroom designated for his meeting with the Fuhrer did he

realize that the woman he had just seen must be Eva Braun. With an

extreme sense of discomfort Heydrich put the incident out of his mind.

The Fuhrer in a carnal entanglement with a

peasant -girl? Preposterous!

Out of habit Heydrich surveyed the Berghof grounds from the small

bedroom window. He saw SS guards and dogs silhouetted against the snow

at regular intervals all over the compound. Nodding with satisfaction,

he sat stiffly on the edge of a narrow bed. An hour,passed. When he

next heard footsteps in the hall, he knew they belonged to the Fuhrer.

Standing deliberately, he straightened his silver-bordered collar and

faced the door. As it opened, he cried, "Heil Hitler!" and gave a

whip-crack Nazi salute.

Adolf Hitler stood blinking in the doorway. He looked like a man

suddenly pulled into a quiet alcove from a beer hall where a violent

brawl was in progress. "Heydrich," he mumbled.

"My Fuhrer."

"We haven't much time. I have to get back to my generals.

They've taken a break for food." With sudden ffitler s@ into the room

and walked to the window. "Food!" he cried, pounding his right fist

into his palm. "They think I am a fool, Heydrich! Adolf Hitler!

My God, if I had listened to my generals we would never even have

crossed into the Rhineland. And now that we stand ready to begin the

greatest land invasion the world has ever seen, they counsel me to be

cautious!" Hitler whirled, evangelical fire burning in his eyes.

"Would caution have won us Poland, Heydrich?"

"No, my Fuhrer!"

"Would it have won us France?"

"No!"

"Then how can it win us Russia?" Spittle flew from Hitler's quivering

lips.

"It cannot, my Fuhrer!"

"Exactly! You should hear them ... Halder, Jodl, even Guderian's

reports sound like the whining of an old woman.

They speak as if we have allies. We have none! For hours the fools

have gone dyer and over the North African situation.

The situation is clear! On January third the British captured