North Reich (11 page)

They ran down the hallway and found her lying on the floor of a shower stall.
 
Her eyes were open but the life had gone out of them.
 
Her wrist had been sliced open with a small pocket knife that had likely been hidden in her purse, and what remained of her blood was flowing down the drain.
 
Koenig saw more blood on her thighs.
 
The goons had indeed raped her.
 
He wondered if Neumann cared and decided probably not.

"Damn it," snarled Neumann.
 
"She was so promising.
 
Now I'll have to find someone else."

Chapter Four

Grant submitted his so-called brainstorming report and promptly forgot about it.
 
He and the other officers in the group had collaborated on a document that ran a mere five pages, while other groups had written extensive treatises.
 
Tom had the feeling that anyone reading it would not want something the size of "Gone with the Wind," so he kept it short and terse.

      
He was mildly surprised when, after a couple of days, he and Downing were summoned to Truscott's office.
 
Another major general was there as well, Dwight Eisenhower.
 
He commanded what used to be the army's War Plans Division and was now the Operations Division.
 
His friends called him Ike, which Tom wouldn't think of doing.
 
Tom and Eisenhower had met briefly on a couple of occasions and the general greeted him amiably, shaking hands.

      
"Glad to see you're healing, major," Ike said with a disarming grin.
 
"Now let's have a seat, some coffee, and discuss your analysis of the situation.
 
Colonel Downing says that you were the driving force behind the report and that the fundamental ideas were yours, so don't be modest."

      
Grant felt himself flushing.
 
"I guess I had a lot to say, general."

      
"That and the fact that you'd been in Canada made it even more important that we talk with you.
 
Now, you state that the Germans will not invade us, why?"

      
"Sir, they will most certainly attack if they see a major advantage, but they will not risk a full-fledged invasion, which would be a permanent thing.
 
When I was in Canada, I identified a number of their Wehrmacht divisions, and I understand at least two more have arrived since then.
 
Assuming they're at close to full strength, that would give them at least two hundred thousand men.
 
That's a lot, but not enough to conquer the United States or even make a permanent claim to part of it.
 
They would never use all their soldiers in an attack since they still have to maintain control over a huge portion of Canada.
 
The Canadians are docile, but they might take advantage of an opportunity to try to kick the Germans out.
 
Therefore, I believe they will raid, but not invade."

      
"And where will those raids take place," Eisenhower said softly.
 
He continued to smile, but his eyes were cold.

      
"Sir, there are only a handful of places where we are vulnerable, and they are obvious since geography will dictate German operations.
 
First, is the Buffalo area and the second is Detroit and vicinity.
 
Detroit would be particularly attractive since there are so many major factories producing planes, tanks, and trucks.
 
Pittsburg is close enough to be hit by the Luftwaffe, and they do have a number of fighter and bomber squadrons stationed near Toronto."

      
Truscott leaned backward in his chair.
 
"And you don't think they will be tempted to try and keep what they raid?"

      
Tom grinned.
 
"Oh, I think they'll be tempted.
 
In fact, I believe that a number of their officers, and maybe some of ours, would be delighted if they tried to hang on.
 
We'd outnumber them in a couple of days and simply roll over them.
 
No sir, after hitting us as hard as they can, they'll return to Canada, blow the bridges and tunnels and wait for Uncle Adolf to come and rescue them."

      
"And what will Uncle Adolf be doing?" Eisenhower asked.

      
"He'll have greatly increased his submarine strength, which I understand is already occurring.
 
He can't take on our surface navy, so he'll hit our inter-coastal shipping along with our ports and harbors as hard as he can.
 
If he can cut our navy down to size, he can send an additional force to Canada.
 
If he can't, this General von Arnim is screwed."

      
"Anything else?
 
Your report mentioned deep raids, even assassinations," said Ike.

      
"Right now, the border with Canada is pretty much wide open. The Germans are beginning to restrict people coming in, but they don't seem to care about people leaving Canada – present company excepted, of course – and we are letting in anybody who shows up. We might want to consider some restrictions."

      
Truscott laughed, "Particularly to anybody with a German accent."

Ike agreed.
 
"What actions will indicate that they are getting ready?"

Tom was surprised.
 
He thought the answer would have been obvious.
 
It was also in his report.
 
"Sir, right now they do have what I would define as small holding forces across the rivers near Detroit and Buffalo, and any move to enlarge those forces with better combat troops would be indicative of a planned attack.
 
So too would be shifting Luftwaffe units from Toronto to Windsor, which is across the river from Detroit."

Ike grinned again.
 
"I know where Windsor is, major."

Oops, Tom thought, "Sorry, sir."

"Don't worry, Tom," said Truscott.
 
"Never assume, even when talking to generals.
 
While you were marching through Ontario, did you happen to see any of their armor?"

"Yes, sir, I saw a handful of Mark IIIs, and a couple of their Mark IV tanks, but of their new and powerful Panthers, nothing.
 
Perhaps they don’t even have Panthers.
 
Of course, I wasn't in a position to see very much."

"But the bulk of their forces aren't anywhere near the border, are they?" asked Ike.

"No, sir, but they wouldn't have to be.
 
In my opinion, any raids will be fairly small, perhaps battalion sized, and they already have those near Detroit and Buffalo.
 
Nor would they have to wait for good weather.
 
There are enough tunnels and bridges that could be used if they took them intact."

"Interesting," said Ike.
 
"We were thinking that the Germans would need consistent weather to support their operations."

"General, they would for air action, but, even though Detroit has snowy and icy winters and Buffalo can get actual blizzards from the lake, the krauts wouldn't need to wait for sunshine.
 
Like I said, the bridges and tunnels would still work just fine.
 
They might also use bad weather to sneak a number of U-boats and other warships through the Welland Canal.
 
At least that's what our navy liaison officer thought."

A few more comments were made and pleasantries exchanged.
 
Tom and Downing were dismissed.
 
Truscott and Ike were alone.

"Well?" Truscott said.

"Absolutely perfect," Ike responded.
 
"He'll give us complete deniability.
 
All on his own he came up with almost exactly what we think the Germans are going to do thanks to Ultra intercepts.
 
When the time comes, we'll give him credit and a commendation and maybe promote him, and we can do it all without anyone knowing that we've got Camp Washington up and running and decoding Germany's secrets."

Truscott wasn't so certain.
 
"Ike, remember that he helped find that lost package.
 
How do we know he didn't read some of it, like the really important parts?"

"We don't," Ike answered.
 
"But even if he did, we can spin the fiction out for years.
 
If he knows anything and is half as smart as we think he is, Grant will keep quiet."

Back at his desk, Tom pretended to read a report on the new German tank, the Mark V, also known as the Panther and how it stacked up against the powerful Russian T34.
 
In the opinion of the analyst, a captain who worked down the hall, the Germans were building them to confront a potentially resurgent Russia and would not send them to Canada to fight inferior American tanks.
 
Tom agreed.
 
Not only would they not be of much use against the United States, but losing some would give America insights into their new wonder-weapon.
 
Tom endorsed the report and placed it in his out box.

He sat back in his chair and wondered just how much Ike and Truscott suspected that he knew.
 
While picking up papers ripped from the pouch he had seen one that was a one-page summary of German plans.
 
He'd read it quickly and realized its significance.
 
The observations were astute because the caption on the report said they were summaries of decoded German messages.
 
Decoded?
 
We were reading their mail and now he knew it.
 
He wondered if Alicia Cutter knew, or was she really just a messenger.

Tom got up and walked down the hallway.
 
He needed to go outside and get some fresh air and who cared how cold it was.
 
By implication he had just lied to his commanders.
 
Should he tell them?
 
He had another thought.
 
What if they knew?
 
Damn it, was he just a pawn?
 
He laughed.
 
Of course he was.
 
Wasn't everyone?

Mike Bradford already had already downed a couple of drinks before his good buddy and fellow detective on the Toronto Police came in and sat down beside him.
 
They were in a bar a couple of blocks away from the main police station.
 
He and the younger Sam Lambert had been partners once, many years earlier.
 
Their jobs had changed but they were still friends.

      
"So what did you find?" Mike asked.

      
"Aren't you even going to say hello?"

      
"Fuck you," Mike snarled.
 
"I want to know how my daughter died."

      
They waited while the bartender brought Sam a drink and Mike paid.
 
"You saw the coroner's report," Sam said.
 
"Your daughter was run over by a truck.
 
What more do you need to know?"

      
"The truth, damn it.
 
They only let me see part of her body, her head, and even that was pretty well bashed in.
 
They said the rest of her was real bad and that I should remember her how she was when she was alive, and not like she looked when she died.
 
Dummy me, I let them convince me and now she's been buried."

      
"Mike, why do you have doubts now?"

      
"Because the actual report was somehow delayed and I didn't get it until after the funeral and my ex-wife wouldn't think of letting me have her body dug up.
 
Apparently, Mary and two unknown guys were crossing the road really late at night when she stumbled and fell in front of a big truck.
 
The two assholes, who never were found, ran off and left her, and the poor goddamn trucker ran her over.
 
The report insinuated that she was drunk. Well guess what, Mary didn't drink.
 
And she didn't go out late at night with strange men, especially since she had a boyfriend and she was saving herself for him."
 

Bradford took a swallow of his Canadian Club and soda.
 
"Also, I found out about a call into a precinct about some guys pushing a girl who might have been my daughter into a car a couple of days before.
 
It happened near her apartment, but wasn't pursued because of a lack of info.
 
That's why I wanted you to talk to the coroner.
 
After all he's your buddy."

      
"Mike, the coroner's Jewish and he's a little nervous about things right now.
 
Even our beloved chief of police has made some comments that make it sound like he's not totally against the current regime, either the one in Ottawa or the one in Berlin.
 
The coroner is not going to make any official waves."