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“Himmler told him how they blundered again over there?”

“No. He doesn’t know about that, and I’m not going to tell him. What he said—he was quite emotional—was that ‘if things go badly’ he and his senior officers will of course fight to the death in Berlin. But that it was important that National Socialism survive, and that meant some of its ‘relatively senior officers’—he mentioned von Wachtstein, which surprised me, until I learned that Keitel had sent von Wachtstein to tell him about yesterday’s disaster.

“Anyway, he said that we have to make sure relatively s

enior officers, military and especially in the party, find refuge in South America, and that they have the funds to keep National Socialism alive and bring it back. That I should consider it a high priority.”

“My God!”

“I told him things were going along according to plan, and he gave me a look that made me think he knew about the Froggers, et cetera. But then he said, ‘I’m going to send for Canaris. He’s reliable, he knows Argentina, and I don’t think he’s playing an active enough role in Operation Phoenix.’”

Canaris did not respond.

“And then he left. I thought I should tell you before you go in there. We’re going to have to be very careful, Canaris.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

“You better get in there. I know he’s waiting for you.”

Canaris nodded, then walked to the door and pulled it open.

“Shall I announce you, Herr Admiral?” the hauptsturmführer at the door of what Canaris thought of as “the map room” asked.

“That won’t be necessary. The Führer sent for me.”

The hauptsturmführer pulled open the door. Canaris, with von und zu Waching and Gehlen on his heels, walked in.

Adolf Hitler—surprising Canaris not at all—was bent over a large, map-covered table. He was wearing rather ugly eyeglasses. His military staff, headed by Generalfeldmarschall Wilhelm Keitel, plus all the people Canaris expected to be there, including Himmler and Goebbels, were standing in a rough half-circle at the table. Behind them, against the wall, were lesser lights, among them Generalleutnant von Wachtstein and Luftwaffe General Kurt Student.

Canaris had expected to see von Wachtstein, but he wondered what Student was doing here; an advocate of “vertical envelopment,” Student had lost favor with Hitler after his Fallschirmjäger troops not only hadn’t easily captured Crete when they had parachuted onto it, but had suffered severe casualties.

The only ones who acknowledged Canaris, and that with a just-perceptible nod, were Keitel and Grand Admiral Karl Dönitz, the commander in chief of the navy. The others looked at him as if they had never seen him before.

After perhaps thirty seconds, Hitler looked up at Canaris, who rendered another sloppy salute and said, “My Führer.”

Von und zu Waching and Gehlen stood to attention.

Hitler pointed at Gehlen.

“Who is this officer?”

“Oberstleutnant Gehlen, Reinhard, my Führer,” Canaris said. “The senior intelligence officer of the OKH.”

“And the oberstleutnant is here why?”

“I thought you might wish to receive him, my Führer. He returned from Russia only last night.”

Hitler started to walk around the table.

“Very thoughtful of you, Admiral,” he said. “But unnecessary. Bad news travels very fast. I have already learned of the daily disaster there. And the daily disaster here in Germany.”

He was now standing in front of Gehlen.

“Colonel, how good of you to come,” he said, putting out his hand and oozing charm. “I am always delighted to meet a fighting soldier; one doesn’t see many of them around here.”

He patted Gehlen’s arm, then turned to Canaris.

“What I hoped the admiral could tell me is the present location of Benito Mussolini. But before we get into that, I want to hear the admiral’s sage evaluation of the death of General Jeschonnek.”