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“Then that will be all, von Wachtstein.”

“Yes, my Führer.”

Am I somehow going to escape the wrath?

Von Wachtstein saluted and walked toward the door.

“Günsche, find Parteileiter Bormann and ask him to come see me im mediately.”

“Jawohl, my Führer.”

“Von Wachtstein!” Hitler barked.

Von Wachtstein, who was almost at the door, stopped and turned.

“Yes, my Führer?”

Now I get the wrath.

“It is not true, General von Wachtstein, that I always lose my temper with the bearer of bad news. Sometimes I understand why the bearer is the bearer.”

He made an impatient gesture of dismissal.

Von Wachtstein did an about-face and left.

[TWO]

Aboard Führerhauptquartier Flug Staffel No. 12

Near Rastenburg, Germany

0655 19 August 1943

Although there was room for ten in the passenger compartment of the twin-engine aircraft, there were only three men in it.

One of them, Rear Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, a short fifty-five-year-old whose face was just starting to jowl, and who was chief of the Abwehr—Intelligence Division—of the German Armed Forces High Command, was privately—very privately—amused at the situation.

Among the most senior officers of the Nazi hierarchy, the competition was fierce for any seat on a “Hitler Squadron” Heinkel 111 flying from Berlin to “Wolf ’s Lair.”

Almost as intense, Canaris thought, as the competition to get a seat beside—or even near—Der Führer in his car or at dinner.

And since the last thing I want is to go to Wolfsschanze or have dinner with the Bavarian Corporal, here I am on my way to Wolfsschanze almost certainly to have to eat at least lunch with him, and leaving behind me at Tempelhof Field ten furious very senior officers who thought they had successfully competed in the race for a seat on the eight o’clock flight.

And they can’t be angry with me, either. For when they make inquiries, they will be told that SS-Obersturmführer Otto Günsche had called, announcing that I was on my way to Tempelhof, and the moment I got there, I was to be put aboard the Heinkel, which would then immediately depart for Wolfsschanze.

When the young and junior officer spoke, as a number of senior officers had learned to their pain, he spoke with the authority of the Führer.

Günsche had called Canaris earlier:

“Heil Hitler! Obersturmführer Günsche, Herr Admiral. The Führer requests your presence at your earliest convenience, Herr Admiral. An aircraft will be waiting for you at Tempelhof. May I tell the Führer that you are hastening to comply with his request, Herr Admiral?”

With Canaris in the plane—a converted bomber, or more accurately one of Germany’s first (1934) commercial transport aircraft, which had been converted into a bomber and then, to move senior officials around, converted back to an airliner—were two officers. One was Canaris’s deputy, Fregattenkapitän Otto von und zu Waching, a small, trim, intense Swabian. The other was Oberst - leutnant Reinhard Gehlen, also trim and intense, but larger in stature than von und zu Waching. Gehlen, the senior intelligence officer of the German General Staff on the Russian front, had been in Canaris’s office when Günsche had called.

There were several reasons Canaris had brought Gehlen along on the trip to Wolfsschanze. It was entirely likely Hitler would like to talk to him, for one. For another, he hadn’t had enough time to talk to him before Günsche had called; Gehlen had returned to Berlin only late the night before. But the most important reason was that the opportu

nity to show Gehlen the inside of Wolfsschanze seemed to have been dumped in his lap.

Gehlen was an Operation Valkyrie conspirator. More than that, he had volunteered to give his own life if that was what it would take to remove Hitler. The only way Canaris could see to kill Der Führer was to do so at Wolfsschanze, and obviously, having access to the Führerhauptquartier would be necessary to accomplish that.