The Spymasters (Men at War 7)

Kappler’s eyes narrowed as he shook his head.

“When Himmler gave Klaus that SS rank, he no longer was the man I’d known and worked alongside for almost a decade. The Nazis poisoned his mind. He started wearing that outrageous uniform all the time, barking ‘Heil Hitler!’ and throwing out his arm every time he entered a new room.” Kappler took a sip of cognac, then said, “I was not sorry to have him leave my company.”

“He was only at Chemische Fabrik Frankfurt?”

“Yes. He was educated as a chemist, and was in charge of my research and development department. He served me very, very well. That is, until that ridiculous SS persona took over. Now I understand that he is working with that rocket scientist?”

“Wernher von Braun,” Dulles provided.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“Before he left your company, was Schwartz working on anything unusual?”

Kappler thought that over for a long moment, then said, “Nothing that I’m aware of, but then I was not aware my company was about to be nationalized, either.” He met Dulles’s eyes. “Why do you ask about Schwartz?”

“We found out that he was working with von Braun, as I said, and we are trying to determine what exactly is the nature of that work. And if there is any connection with the work and Chemische Fabrik Frankfurt.”

Kappler nodded thoughtfully, then said with more than a little sarcasm, “While they have nationalized my company, the SS still graciously permits me to run it. At least, I suppose, until such time that Bormann decides otherwise.” He paused, then added, “I will make discreet inquiries.”

Dulles puffed on his pipe, then exhaled the smoke. He glanced at the manila envelope stamped TOP SECRET.

Jesus! he thought. And I was worried about his reaction to the bombings?

He looked back at Kappler, who was staring into the fire.

And that of course is what you’re thinking, Wolffy.

You’re wondering what the hell Hitler plans to do with the Thyssens in a concentration camp. Make them slave laborers? Or just gas them, too? Or maybe both—especially if Göring squeezes Fritz enough to cough up his hidden assets.

And you’re convinced you’re about to be sent to share a tent in a concentration camp with Herr und Frau Thyssen—“Bormann decides otherwise” being a euphemism for “internment.”

He then glanced at the Patek Philippe in the clamshell box in his hand and snapped it shut. The sound caused Kappler to twitch his snifter.

What did he say—“Life is all about timing”?

Talk about real complications . . .

[FOUR]

2435 27 May 1943

Allen Dulles, standing by the fireplace with his back to the crackling fire, reached for the open bottle of Rémy Martin—which was beside where he’d placed the black felt box containing the Patek Philippe chronometer—and refilled Wolfgang Kappler’s snifter and then his own.

Kappler took a sip and then, having recovered some of his strong voice, said: “I so far have been allowed to travel freely—anywhere, anytime—for two very basic reasons: First, with the obvious exception of Chemische Fabrik Frankfurt, my companies have been best run by me—and thus best meet the needs of the war effort. Hitler and Bormann and Göring have agreed with this. Second, my family, particularly my wife and teenage daughter, is constantly kept under close watch by the Gestapo wherever they go.

“That gottverdammt Bormann has made it perfectly clear to me that should I seek any sanctuary or exile, then”—he paused, obviously struggling as he sought the right word—“then great harm will come to my family. The bastard of course had the arrogance to add, ‘I would say that I’m very sorry but you must appreciate that it is in the best interests of the Führer and the Fatherland.’”

He paused, looked at the fire for a moment, then met Dulles’s eyes.

Kappler went on: “As you well know, having helped me with the endeavor, I have significant investment in Chemische Fabrik Frankfurt A.G. here, with loose ties to Farben, and in Compania Química Limitada in Buenos Aires and Montevideo—”

“I do well know,” Dulles interrupted, and thought: Because I set that up. I saw to it that the Argentine and Uruguayan companies were identical to the Frankfurt one—yet completely separate of Farben.

And the separation was even more important because every single one of Farben’s manufacturing plants is on a list to receive a visit from a squadron of Allied bombers.

Now that Chemische Fabrik has been nationalized, I guess that distinction is what we lawyers call moot.

I. G. Farbenindustrie A.G. was a conglomerate that before the war controlled a majority share of the world chemical manufacturing market. Farben now worked around the clock supplying matériel for the Axis war effort. Dulles remembered how difficult it had been keeping the process of setting up Kappler in North and South America secret from I.G. Farben’s powerful executives, the vast majority of whom became devoted members of the Nazi party.