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“That will take twelve minutes,” von Deitzberg protested. “Why can’t they land at thirty-second intervals? For that matter, fifteen-second intervals? Fifteen seconds can be a long time.” Then he began to count: “One thousand one. One thousand two. One thousand three. One thous—”

“Because a sixty-second interval is what these officers recommended to General Student,” von Wachtstein interrupted, “and what General Student approved. I think we can all defer to his judgment and experience.”

“And your reason for putting Skorzeny and his men in the last three of the gliders to land?” Himmler asked von Berlepsch.

“Because by then the Fallschirmjäger in the first gliders to land will be in a position to help the Waffen-SS troops get out of their crashed gliders,” von Berlepsch said.

“Unless they themselves have crashed, of course,” von Deitzberg said sarcastically.

“Some of them will have crashed, von Deitzberg,” Student said icily. “We expect that. What von Berlepsch has been trying to tell you is that Fallschirmtruppe are trained to deal with that inevitable contingency.”

“Well,” Himmler said, “that would seem to solve the problem, wouldn’t you agree, von Wachtstein?”

“If what you are saying is that General Student, Admiral Canaris, and you are agreed . . .”

“I’m just a visitor here, General,” Himmler said. “The agreement must be between Student and Canaris.”

Canaris thought: And the translation of that is that if this absurd operation fails—as it well may—Student and I will take the blame.

If it succeeds, Himmler and the SS will get the credit because Skorzeny was involved.

“Admiral Canaris?” von Wachtstein asked.

“If General Student is happy with this, I will defer to his expertise and judgment.”

“I will so inform the Führer,” von Wachtstein said.

“And now, if I may delicately suggest to you, Admiral, that your knowledge of the fine points of an operation like this is on a par with my own, and that neither of us is really of any value here, I wonder if we could have a few minutes alone?”

“There’s a battered desk and several chairs in my cryptographic room,” Canaris said. “Would that be all right with you, Herr Reichsführer?”

“That would be fine,” Himmler said. “Von Deitzberg, when you’re finished here, come to my office and bring me up to date.”

Von Deitzberg popped to attention and clicked his heels.

“Jawohl, Herr Reichsführer.”

Himmler gave the Nazi salute wordlessly and waited for Canaris to show him where to go.

[TWO]

“Be so good as to give the Reichsführer and me a few minutes alone in your luxurious accommodation,” Canaris said after one of his cryptographic officers had unlocked the door to a small room crowded with equipment.

“Jawohl, Herr Admiral.”

“Is there coffee?”

“A fresh pot, Herr Admiral.”

Himmler waited until the cryptographic officer had left.

“In the nature of a state secret of the highest category—in other words, not to go further than this room—I really don’t like von Deitzberg,” Himmler volunteered. “He’s very useful, but there is something about him I just don’t like.”

What’s that all about?

Whatever it is, I’m not going to react to it.

“In the nature of a state secret,” Canaris said, “the coffee I just asked about is not only full of caffeine, but was smuggled into Germany. I think you’ll like it.”