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There were two civilian policemen on the street in front of Canaris’s house, and Canaris knew there was another patrolling the alley and gardens behind it.

One of the policemen checked the identity cards of everyone in Canaris’s Mercedes, then signaled to the other policeman to open the gate.

The driver stopped the car under a portico on the left side of the house, then hurried to open the rear passenger door on the other side before Canaris could do so himself. He failed.

Admiral Canaris walked to a door, which opened just before he got there. General von Wachtstein, Oberstleutnant Gehlen, and Fregattenkapitän von und zu Waching followed him into the house.

The door was closed, and the lights in the foyer came on.

They now saw who had opened and closed the door: a burly man in his sixties. He had closely cropped gray hair and wore a white cotton jacket—and he suddenly said, “Shit! I forgot Max.”

The lights went off. The door was opened, and the driver of the car came into the room. The door was closed, and the lights went on again.

“Gentlemen, this is Egon, who was chief of the boat when I commanded U-201 in the first war,” Canaris said, motioning toward the burly one. “And this is Max, who was my chief bosun when I commanded the Schlesien. They take care of me.”

He pointed at the officers with him and identified them.

“Egon, see that no one can hear what’s said in the living room,” Canaris said.

“I did that when they called and said send the car,” Egon said.

“And then, since we have all earned it, bring us something—something hard—to drink in there. And when you’ve done that, get us something to eat. We missed lunch at Wolfsschanze.”

“I can have sauerbraten, potatoes, and carrots in thirty minutes.”

“That sounds fine,” Canaris said, then waved the men with him ahead of him into the living room.

Everybody took seats in an assortment of armchairs. Max, now wearing a white cotton steward’s jacket, came in carrying a large tray heavy with glasses, an ice bucket, a siphon bottle, and two bottles of Johnnie Walker Black Label scotch whisky. He set it on a table.

“I regret I am out of schnapps,” Canaris said. “This decadent English swill will ha

ve to do.”

A faint smile flickered across von Wachtstein’s lips.

“We can make our own drinks, Max,” Canaris said. “Go help Egon burn the sauerbraten.”

Max nodded his acceptance of the order.

Canaris waited until he had left the living room and had closed the door behind him, then said: “So far as Max and Egon are concerned: They hear more than they should about things that should be of no concern to them. That’s not a problem, as I trust them with my life. But I generally make an effort to ensure they don’t hear anything more than they have to.

“The scenario now is that tomorrow, while General von Wachtstein watches us, General Student will tell us what he has planned for the rescue of Mussolini when we learn Il Duce has been moved from Ponza to Abruzzi, if indeed that’s where they take him.

“I will agree with whatever plan Student has, as I suspect whatever that is will have the approval of the Reichsführer. And I will agree to the participation in the rescue by Hauptmann Skorzeny, as I suspect the Reichsführer, for reasons he has not seen fit to share with me, wants him to participate.

“Von Wachtstein will relay our agreement to the Führer via Obersturmführer Günsche. We will then wait until there is word from Ponza—I get a daily report, usually first thing in the morning—that Il Duce has been moved.

“Von Wachtstein will report that Il Duce is being moved, that it has been confirmed that he has safely arrived wherever that is, and then I will ask the Reichsführer’s permission to ask the Führer for permission to proceed with the operation. The Reichsführer may, of course, elect to ask the Führer himself.”

He looked around the table to see that everyone had understood the nuances of what he had said.

“I was pleased when the Führer was so gracious to Oberstleutnant Gehlen. I thought it was important that Gehlen see where it is that the Führer and his staff conduct the war.”

He checked to see that they had all understood the nuances of that, too.

“I have had a communication from Kapitän zur See Boltitz in Buenos Aires. Lamentably, he reports that he has as yet been unable to detect the traitor many feel we have in our embassy there. In this endeavor, he has enlisted the aid of Major von Wachtstein.

“He did report that an attempt to rescue the Froggers from where they were being held not only failed but resulted in the deaths of half a dozen SS men.