He looked back at Kappler and said, "Okay, Wolffy. We have, as you say, been friends a long time-"

"Absolutely," he said, stone-faced.

"-long enough that you can tell me exactly what is on your mind."

They locked eyes for a long moment. Kappler remained stone-faced. Then his eyes glistened, and he suddenly sighed, and his face turned soft.

He took a deep sip of his cognac, then replied, "Allen, I do not want to wind up like Fritz."

"What do you mean? Wind up how?"

"Marty Bormann . . ." Kappler began, then had to clear his throat.

Nazi Party Minister Martin Bormann was an average-looking Prussian of forty-three-pasty-faced, cold dark eyes, his thinning black-dyed hair slicked back against his skull. He came from an average background-the son of a postman-but had risen to a position that was anything but average. Having earned Adolf Hitler's trust, beginning by managing with great success the party's finances and then Hitler's personal finances, the Nazi leader had appointed Bormann as his personal secretary. And thus Bormann, to the great displeasure of those in Hitler's High Command, came to control who had access to the Nazi leader and to personally implement Hitler's wishes.

Kappler drained his cognac snifter.

"What about Bormann?" Dulles pursued.

"At the direct order of Hitler, Bormann had Fritz Thyssen and his wife locked up in a Berlin asylum . . ."

What? They're in a loony bin?

Last we heard Thyssen was living in Cannes, making plans to head for Buenos Aires.

". . . and now Bormann has told me that Goring is planning on sending them to be interned in a konzentrationslager." He crossed himself. "May God save them . . ."

Reichsmarschall Hermann Goring-the close-to-obese, hot-tempered fifty-year-old head of the Luftwaffe and chief of all Wehrmacht commanders who Hitler had designated as his successor-also wielded an almost unquestioned authority in the German High Command. Which of course caused a constant friction between him and Bormann and all others therein.

"What do you think is the purpose of that?" Dulles said.

"I do not have to think what it is. Bormann told me."

"And?"

"Money, gold, artwork. Anything and everything. Goring has been trying to get Thyssen to reveal where he hid assets that the Nazis haven't gotten their hands on. Which is why, after the French turned over the Thyssens to the SS and Bormann locked them up, Goring made an effort to ensure that their accommodations were comfortable. But now Bormann says that Goring has lost patience and is turning the screws, pressuring Fritz to talk by sending them to the KL."

Dulles studied Kappler as he poured him more cognac.

This was not the first time that he had shared stories of Hermann Goring using his position to build a personal fortune. That had happened as Dulles had been helping Kappler hide his own assets: "Bormann told me that when the Nazis first occupied Paris, Goring sent a message to Hitler in which he gloated: 'My sweetest dream is of looting and looting completely.' And he did. When the Nazis took over Baron Rothschild's palace, as an example, Goring swept the place clean. He then presented Hitler with a pair of paintings by Pablo Picasso-and kept for himself almost fifty works by Braque, Matisse, and Renoir to add to his looted collection at his country estate, Carinhall. Goring, whose appetite appears insatiable, gets what he wants."

Dulles now put his pipe to his lips as he met Kappler's eyes.

"And if they know about Thyssen," Dulles said softly between puffs, "then they must suspect you have assets beyond Germany, too."

Kappler, his face somber, nodded.

With his usually strong voice on the verge of breaking, he then finished: "It has already happened. They nationalized my Chemische Fabrik Frankfurt last week."

"They seized Chemische Fabrik Frankfurt?"

Kappler nodded again.

"Last week," he repeated, his voice almost a monotone, "while we were in Portugal. It's as if they sent me there so I would be far away when it happened."

"Only it," Dulles said, "or other companies, too?"

"Only it. So far. But it is only a matter of time before they find an excuse-or create one-to do to all my companies what they have done to all of Fritz's. Bormann even made it a point to inform me that after taking over Thyssen's companies, they had had no trouble running them without him. . . ."

Dulles nodded. After a long moment, he suddenly said, "Could Klaus Schwartz run it?"

He saw Kappler stiffen at the mention of the name.

"Schwartz used to run your company, yes?" Dulles went on. "What can you tell me about him?"

"Herr Doktor Schwartz?" Kappler then said bitterly. "Or SS-Sturmbannfuhrer Schwartz?"

"Are they not one and the same?" Dulles said, more or less rhetorically.

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 Goring 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 Remy 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 Goring 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 Fuhrer 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 Quimica 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 materiel 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.

Kappler continued: "-and, in view of my present problems, I could not be more grateful for your counsel in seeing that my South America incorporation was-is-completely independent of its German counterpart . . ."

Is he reading my mind? Dulles thought.

And he should mean: What's left of its German counterpart. Because Royal Air Force and Army Air Force bombers have been wiping out German refineries.

". . . especially," Kappler finished, "with the Allied bombing missions indiscriminately taking out Farben's manufacturing plants."

There he goes reading my mind again!

And if he's bothered by those bombings, he won't be thrilled with these photographs.

"Not at all indiscriminately, Wolffy. Their targets are 'POL' plants-for Petroleum, Oil, Lubricants. Other facilities may be targets of opportunity or, perhaps, as happens in the fog of war, mistakes. And you are indeed fortunate that your companies in South America have no link-direct or indirect-to their German counterparts. Because if there was any indication that they in any manner aided the Axis, they would be taken out. Not necessarily by U.S. bombers out of Brazil, of course, but by other quiet and equally effective means."

At Canoas Air Force Base near the southern tip of Brazil-some two hundred miles north of its border with Uruguay-the U.S. Army Air Forces had a detachment of its 26th Antisubmarine Wing, based out of Miami, Florida. The U-boat hunters patrolled the Atlantic Ocean with a mix of light, medium, and heavy bombers-Lockheed A-29 Hudsons, North American B-25 Mitchells, and Boeing B-17 Flying Fortresses-any of which could easily reach a target in Argentina.

While it would be an act of war for the 26th's aircraft to attack a facility in a neutral country, Kappler knew that the OSS had sabotage teams. And he had an image flash in his mind of Augustus Compania Industrial y Mercentil Limitada and Augustus Carbonera Argentina S.A.-his steel and coal manufacturing plants just up the River Plate from Buenos Aires-going up in flames.

He met Dulles's eyes for a long moment.

Dulles, puffing on his pipe, did not blink.

Kappler nodded, then looked away in thought.

After another long moment he said: "There are of course those who are betting the Germans will win the war, and so have no reservations doing business with them. Particularly when it is quite profitable to do so with the cheap laborers supplied by the SS. And there are those who refuse to do so. . . ."

His voice trailed off as he looked at Dulles.

When Dulles was working in Berlin for Sullivan and Cromwell, he had become disgusted with the viciousness of the National Socialist German Workers' Party and Hitler's goal for a judenrein-a Jew-clean-Germany. He had lobbied to have the law firm close its Berlin office and cease doing business with any company conducting any kind of trade with the Nazis. That had represented a remarkable amount of income for the firm, but Dulles declared it to be "blood money," among other just descriptions that would reflect poorly on the firm, particularly its partners.

He ultimately won on both counts. The law office in Berlin was quietly closed. Sullivan and Cromwell then sent letters explaining why the firm was taking such measures to those clients with any connection to the Third Reich. Among them were Thyssen, Kappler, and Gustav Krupp, head of the four-hundred-year-old Friedrich Krupp A.G., the largest corporation not only in Germany but in all of Europe.

"Gustav Krupp von Bohlen und Halbach is an uber-Nazi," Kappler said bitterly. "Hitler is his hero-he practically drools in his presence-and so Hitler has no worries about his loyalty. Krupp, after Thyssen fled here to Switzerland, is the main reason that the industry in the Ruhr Valley continues producing at near capacity-he has his plants as well as Thyssen's entire Vereinigte Stahlwerke that Hitler seized. It would not surprise me that it was Gustav who pressured Bormann to seize Chemische Fabrik."

Dulles puffed on his pipe as he listened.

"And," Kappler finished, "he probably wants all of mine nationalized, too-which would explain Marty Bormann's threat."

"What precisely," Dulles then asked, "got Fritz Thyssen in hot water with Hitler? Was it that letter he wrote?"

"Yes," Kappler said, "mostly it was his denouncing of Nazism, particularly after being a high-profile early supporter, which was the same as denouncing Hitler himself. So, after Thyssen left the country with his family, an angry Hitler declared him a traitor, stripped him of his citizenship, and-"

A knock at the door interrupted his thought.

As Kappler and Dulles looked toward it, the door swung open and the OSS agent reappeared.

"Mr. Dulles, Herr Doktor Bernhard?"

Dulles felt Kappler's eyes on him, and when he looked he could see Kappler's expression was that of questioning.

He's wondering who the hell is interrupting what he thought was supposed to be our secret meeting.

Well, this should be as interesting as I thought it would be. . . .

[FIVE].