The Last Heroes (Men at War 1)

He met Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz when a Swede with a diplomatic passport and a Foreign Ministry official had shown up together in bed at a hotel in Lichtefeld, an incident with implications beyond mere offense against the morality of the state. The liaison officer Müller usually dealt with at the Foreign Ministry had been replaced by von Heurten-Mitnitz. When Müller got to Bendlerstrasse, he was not surprised to find the diplomat looked as elegant as he had sounded on the telephone. He was a tall, sharp-featured, fair-haired East Prussian of about thirty-five. And he was wearing a well-cut British lounge suit that had certainly cost as much as Müller made in a month.

Five minutes with von Heurten-Mitnitz was long enough for Müller to judge that von Heurten-Mitnitz was a far more practical man than his manner and elegant dress implied. At the same time, Max von Heurten-Mitnitz had seen enough of Müller to be convinced that the policeman before him was not the simple Hessian peasant he carefully painted himself to be.

Thereafter (the matter of the Swede and the Foreign Service officer having come to a swift and satisfactory conclusion) , von Heurten-Mitnitz possessed an uncanny knowledge of who was paying whom for what secret information. In return, Müller received an unexpected promotion to Sturmbannführer (major, SS-SD) shortly after the invasion of the Low Countries. Their relationship was quite satisfactory.

Max regarded his appointment to Morocco as one of his great diplomatic feats. As Foreign Ministry representative to the Franco-German armistice commission for Morocco, Max would in fact have very little to do with the armistice with France. Rather, the commission (nine senior Foreign Ministry officials and their staff) was the euphemistic title for the official body through which the French protectorate of Morocco was governed. Most important, he’d be in Morocco, and away from Berlin.

His new post would obviously involve certain security and intelligence functions, which in turn would mean dealing with an officer of the Schutzstaffel-Sicherheitsdienst (SS-SD). Since not a few of the SS-SD were very dangerous indeed, Max wanted, as his liaison with the French gendarmerie, an officer with whom he had a degree of mutual understanding. Within the hour he had Müller on the phone.

‘‘Perhaps, Herr Sturmbannführer, if your busy schedule would permit, you could spare me a few minutes of your time?’’ von Heurten-Mitnitz asked.

‘‘When?’’

‘‘Are you free now?’’ von Heurten-Mitnitz asked.

‘‘I’m tied up now.’’

‘‘Pity. Are you free for dinner?’’

‘‘Yes.’’

‘‘The Kempinski at seven?’’

‘‘I’ll be there.’’

The Hotel Kempinski Berlin, Germany 7:30 P.M., November 10, 1941

Max von Heurten-Mitnitz and Johann Müller had roast loin of boar, oven-roasted potatoes, and a crisp green salad, and they washed it down with Berlinerkindl, the local beer. With boar, there was simply nothing better than a light Pilsner beer.

Von Heurten-Mitnitz told Müller he’d been given a month to settle his affairs before going to Morocco, but thought he could leave a good deal sooner than that. ‘‘How much time will you need?’’ he asked.

‘‘I’ll be ready when you are,’’ Müller said.

Unsaid was what they both were a little afraid of: The assignment could be changed so long as they were in Berlin.

‘‘We’ll go by air,’’ von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

Müller nodded, caught the waiter’s attention, and signaled for another round of Berlinerkindl.

‘‘Is there anything I should do before we go?’’

‘‘One small thing,’’ von Heurten-Mitnitz said. ‘‘Just before I left the office, I had a call from Richard Schnorr.’’ He looked at Müller to read in his face whether or not he knew the name. When he saw that Müller was fully aware that Richard Schnorr was a highly placed functionary in the headquarters offices of the National Socialist German Workers’ party, he went on. ‘‘Does the name Fulmar mean anything to you?’’

‘‘The electric company?’’

Von Heurten-Mitnitz nodded.

‘‘There is a son, Eric,’’ he said, ‘‘who is in Morocco.’’

‘‘What’s he doing in Morocco?’’

‘‘He’s involved with the son of the pasha of Ksar es Souk, who is believed to be moving currency and jewels illegally out of France and Morocco.’’

‘‘Interesting,’’ Müller said.

‘‘And there are those who believe he is avoiding military service,’’ von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

‘‘How does he get away with that?’’ Müller asked.