Falkenheim controlled his surprise. «He was a very brave man,» he said.
«I’m sure. You’re all brave men. Successful traitors must be imbued with a certain warped courage. Werner Gerhardt, for instance.»
«Gerhardt?…» This time the old man could not conceal his shock. «Where did you hear that name?»
«You wonder how I could know? How I even found out about you, perhaps?»
«Not about me. The risk I took was quite apparent. I arranged for a Von Tiebolt to be near me. I considered that risk necessary.»
«Yes, the beautiful Helden. But then, I’m told we’re all beautiful. It has its advantages.»
«She’s no part of you; she never was.»
«She’s part of your wandering garbage, die Verwünschte Kinder. A weak whore. She whores now with the American.»
«Your judgments don’t interest me. How did you find out about Gerhardt?»
«Why should I tell you?»
«I’m going to die. What difference does it make?»
«I’ll strike a bargain. Where did you learn of Wolfsschanze?»
«Agreed. Gerhardt first.»
«Why not. He’s of no value. A senile, feebleminded old man.»
«Don’t harm him!» shouted Falkenheim suddenly. «He’s been through so much … so much pain.»
«Your concern is touching.»
«They broke him. Four months of torture; his mind snapped. Leave him in peace.»
«Who broke him? The Allies? The British?»
«ODESSA.»
«For once they served a useful purpose.»
«Where did you hear his name? How did you find him?»
Von Tiebolt smiled. «The British. They have a file on the Nachrichtendienst. You see, they’re very interested in the Nachrichtendienst right now. Their objective is to find you and destroy you.»
«Destroy? There’s no reason…»
«Oh, but there is. They have proof you hired the Tinamou.»
«The Tinamou? Absurd!»
«Not at all. It was your final vengeance, the revenge of tired old men against their enemies. Take my word for it: The proof is irrefutable. I gave it to them.»
The old man looked at Johann, his expression filled with revulsion. «You’re obscene.»
«About Wolfsschanze!» Von Tiebolt raised his voice. «Where? How? I’ll know if you lie.»
Falkenheim sank back in the wheelchair. «It doesn’t matter now. For either of us. I’ll die, and you’ll be stopped.»
«Now it is I who am not interested in your judgments. Wolfsschanze!»
Falkenheim glanced up listlessly. «Althene Clausen,» he said quietly. «Heinrich Clausen’s nearly perfect strategy.»
Von Tiebolt’s face was frozen in astonishment. «Clausen’s wife?…» He trailed off the words. «You found out about her?»
The old man turned back to Johann. «It wasn’t difficult; we had informers everywhere. In New York as well as Berlin. We knew who Mrs. Richard Holcroft was, and because we knew, we sent out orders to protect her. That was the irony: to protect her. Then word came: At the height of the war, while her American husband is at sea, she flies in a private plane to Mexico. From Mexico she goes secretly on to Buenos Aires, where the German embassy takes over and she’s flown under diplomatic cover to Lisbon. To Lisbon. Why?»
«Berlin gave you the answer?» asked Von Tiebolt.
«Yes. Our people in the Finanzministerium. We’d learned that extraordinary sums of money were being siphoned out of Germany; it was in our interest not to interfere. Whatever helped cripple the Nazi machine, we sanctioned; peace and sanity would return sooner. But five days after Mrs. Holcroft left New York for Lisbon, by way of Mexico and Buenos Aires, Heinrich Clausen, the genius of the Finanzministerium, flew covertly out of Berlin. He stopped first in Geneva to meet with a banker named Manfredi, then he too went on to Lisbon. We knew he was no defector; above all men, he was a true believer in German—Aryan—supremacy. So much so that he couldn’t stomach the flaws in Hitler’s ranks of gangsters.» Herr Oberst paused. «We made the simple addition. Clausen and his supposedly treasonous former wife in Lisbon together; millions upon millions banked in Switzerland … and the defeat of Germany now assured. We looked for the deeper meaning and found it in Geneva.»
«You read the documents?»
«We read everything from La Grande Banque de Genève. The price was five hundred thousand Swiss francs.»
«To Manfredi?»
«Naturally. He knew who we were; he thought we’d believe—and honor—the objectives espoused in those papers. We let him think so. Wolfsschanze! Whose Wolfsschanze? ‘Amends must be made.’» Falkenheim spoke the words scathingly. «The thought furthest from any of their minds. That money was to be used to revive the Reich.»
«What did you do then?»
The old soldier looked directly at Von Tiebolt. «Returned to Berlin and executed your father, Kessler, and Heinrich Clausen. They never intended to take their own lives; they expected to find sanctuary in South America, oversee their plan, watch it come to fruition. We gave them their pact with death that Clausen wrote so movingly about to his son.»
Von Tiebolt fingered the Luger in his hand. «So you learned the secret of Althene Clausen?»
«You spoke of whores. She’s the whore of the world.»
«I’m surprised you let her live.»
«A second irony: We had no choice. With Clausen gone we realized she was the key to Wolfsschanze. Your Wolfsschanze. We knew that she and Clausen had refined every move that was to be made during the coming years. We had to learn; she’d never tell us, so we had to watch. When were the millions to be taken from Geneva? How specifically were they to be used? And by whom?»
«The Sonnenkinder,» said Von Tiebolt.
The old man’s eyes were blank. «What did you say?»
«Never mind. So it was a question of waiting for Althene Clausen to make her move, whatever it might be?»
«Yes, but we learned nothing from her. Ever. As the years went by, we realized she had absorbed her husband’s genius. In thirty years she never once betrayed the cause by word or action. One had to admire the sheer discipline. Our first signal came when Manfredi made contact with the son.» Falkenheim winced. «The despicable thing is that she consented to the rape of her own child. Holcroft knows nothing.»
The blond man laughed. «You’re so out of touch. The renowned Nachrichtendienst is a collection of fools.»
«You think so?»
«I know so. You watched the wrong horse in the wrong stable!»
«What?»
«For thirty years your eyes were focused on the one person who knew absolutely nothing. The whore of the world, as you call her, is secure in the knowledge that she and her son are truly part of a great apology. She’s never thought otherwise!» Von Tiebolt’s laughter echoed off the walls of the room. «That trip to Lisbon,» he continued, «was Heinrich Clausen’s most brilliant manipulation. The contrite sinner turned holy man with a holy cause. It must have been the performance of his life. Even down to his final instructions that she was not to give her instant approval. The son was to see for himself the justness of his martyred father’s cause, and, being convinced, become committed beyond anything in his life.» Von Tiebolt leaned against the table, his arms folded, the Luger in his hand. «Don’t you see? None of us could do it. The document in Geneva was utterly correct about that. The fortunes stolen by the Third Reich are legendary. There could not be a single connection between that account in Geneva and a true son of Germany.»