“Excellent,” Goebbels said and yawned. “I have some thoughts, although they will not alleviate fuel and ammunition shortages. The Americans were clearly loath to fire on an ambulance. I suggest that additional ambulances be filled with cash, gold and valuable art works that can be used to buy things through the Swiss. A few score more ambulances, perhaps even a few hundred, could provide us with a fortune.”
Goebbels shook his head and yawned again.
Schoerner laughed. “I have a feeling I’m keeping you up, Minister. May I suggest we resume again after you’ve had a chance to rest? By the way, the renowned physicist, Abraham Esau, has made it here as well along with a number of other scientists. We have put them to work developing what he, Heisenberg, and others were developing. Heisenberg is also expected, but obviously has not yet arrived.”
Goebbels was suddenly awake. Esau was indeed important. He was perhaps even more important than Heisenberg. Some considered him the founder of the German nuclear program. “Can he make the atomic bomb that Heisenberg promised?”
“He says he can. Of course, if he had said he couldn’t we would have had them all shot. He also says that solutions to a number of other difficulties with our weapons were well within reach. All he needed was time and resources. Unfortunately, we have neither, but we will do everything we can for him. I have put him in his own bunker a mile or so out of town and he has a number of scientific toys to play with. He and the other scientists are well guarded.”
Goebbels smiled. “Perhaps it is not too late to spring an awful surprise on the Americans.”
“Indeed. My only concern is that with a name like Abraham Esau, he might be Jewish.”
Goebbels shook his head. “I recall his name and the fact that his family was thoroughly researched. He is not Jewish.”
Schoerner was clearly not convinced. “However, he will be watched.”
“Will you have any of your men working with him in his bunker or even just watching them?”
“I told Doctor Esau that I would be doing that and he laughed at me. He asked how many of my men were physicists and I had to admit that none were. He then informed me that my men would be in the way, would slow down the scientists work and might just be in danger from radiation. He added that an untrained person might make a catastrophic mistake and cause the bomb to detonate prematurely. For the time being, I have deferred to his wishes.”
“What else could you have done?” Goebbels said and resumed yawning. Schoerner got the hint.
“As soon as you’ve rested, I would like you to meet a representative of the Swiss government and hear his rather interesting opinion of neutrality. I think you will find it very enlightening. If you would like, I will also arrange for a young nurse to come and give you, ah, a thorough massage before you go to sleep.”
A female nurse? A massage? Goebbels smiled and thought that would be a marvelous idea. So too would be an atomic bomb. Both thoughts pleased him.
* * *
The small Swiss city of Arbon rested comfortably on a peninsula that jutted out into Lake Constance. Ernie’s first impression was favorable and a lasting one. The town was lovely and quaint and he decided that if he had to spend the rest of the war in Switzerland, Arbon would be the place to do it. A guidebook told him that the place had been occupied by man since Stone Age times. There were even traces of the Romans along with a late medieval castle. He made a note to see them if the war and the OSS gave him a chance.
He was quartered in a warehouse owned by an export-import company that had done business in both the U.S. and Switzerland before the war. It was now part of the U.S. consulate and was operated by a man in his fifties named Sam Valenti. Valenti was plump, middle-aged and innocuous. He had emigrated to the U.S. as a boy, became a citizen, and then decided to return to Europe as an OSS agent to help defeat the twin fascists, Mussolini and Hitler. Since Italian was one of Switzerland’s several languages, he fit in quite nicely.
“What do you think?” Valenti asked genially.
“I’ve seen better prisons,” Ernie replied.
Valenti was unsympathetic. “Be thankful that you’re indoors and the roof doesn’t leak and, oh yeah, that you’re not in a prison camp.”
Ernie had a twin bed and what passed for a room. Plywood walls separated him from the rest of the warehouse, now empty, and four other similarly built rooms. A bathroom was down the hall and included a shower large enough for several people. It reminded Ernie of his high school gym.
“You can bring in food, but don’t make a mess,” Valenti said. “If you want to bring in alcohol, make sure you have enough to share. The same goes with women.”
“I’ll try to remember.”
“And don’t bring in any Nazis. I don’t want any of them pricks desecrating my property.”
Ernie had been instructed to get a newspaper and sit down in the waterfront park. He would then carefully read it. When the right time came, he would be contacted by someone named Winnie. He thought the game was a little silly until he saw German soldiers in uniform walking casually down the streets of Arbon. It was a stark reminder that Switzerland was neutral and that the German border was not only across the lake but only a few miles down the coast. It also said that the border was easily crossed and he wondered what he could do about that. He realized he was thinking like a spy and not a pilot.
After several days of accumulated boredom, he was beginning to wonder if the OSS knew what to do with him. Finally, a young woman about his age walked up to him and smiled. She was short and plump and rather plain. She had poorly cut long and greasy looking brown hair and wore thick horn-rim glasses.
“Cousin Ernest,” she said with apparent sincerity. “If you don’t remember me from our childhood days, I’m Cousin Winnie from Philadelphia and it is so good to see you. The family will be so glad when I tell them, especially Uncle Allen.”
She spoke in a normal tone of voice. Anyone trying to listen in would hear nothing out of the ordinary. He stood and took her hand in his. Her grip was warm and firm. “It is so good to see you, too, Cousin Winnie. Will you be able to stay long?”
She took his arm and they casually began to walk along the waterfront. They were just two friends, not lovers, enjoying a stroll.
“I’m sorry I was late,” she said. “I was terribly busy.”
“Doing what, or shouldn’t I ask?”
“I was across the border in Germany, in that nest of vipers. I was trying to confirm that Josef Goebbels, one of Hitler’s satanic high priests and possible heir to the Reich, had made it to Bregenz.”
Janek was impressed. This also confirmed his opinion that the border was very porous. If Germans could walk the streets of Arbon, then plump and drab Winnie could do the same in the new German capital of Bregenz. Or, he thought, maybe he could do the same thing? Going to Berlin was clearly out of the question, but what about Bregenz? It also told him that Winnie was something more than a plump little nothing in a frumpy dress that did nothing for her. He also shuddered when he realized she had bad breath and smelled as if she hadn’t bathed recently. Still, he would not judge her skills as an intelligence operative. Getting in and out of Germany proved she had them.
“Well, I did not see the Minister of Propaganda himself, but I did find a villa close to the shore that is well guarded by the SS. I was able to see blond-haired children playing in the back and a skinny yellow-haired frau watching them. I’m almost certain it was Magda Goebbels. If so, could her loving husband be far behind?”
“Are they close enough for someone to cross the border and snatch them?”
She laughed and he decided that at least she had a warm smile and decent teeth. “Mr. Dulles said you would bear watching. Even if we could do that, we wouldn’t. At least we wouldn’t do it in such a manner as to annoy the Swiss. We are their guests, after all. Word on the street and from Mr. Dulles is that she and her monster of a husband are not on speaking terms. He is probably living at some military headquarters in the mountains. In fact, I would not be surprised if Magda Goebbels and her hatchlings showed up here in Arbon to do a little shopping. The poor dears must be exhausted by their trip from Berlin. Apparently they came by ambulance, which is something else that has to be considered. I believe it violates the Geneva Convention if anybody cares, and apparently they don’t.”