The Rhinemann Exchange: A Novel by Robert Ludlum


  “I’ll bet it’s from the War Department. I can tell you which office.”

  “It’s true.… There’s a U-boat bringing in a couple of very important Berliners. You’re out of order; it’s not your action. Granville will tell you that.”

  “Horseshit!” yelled David. “Pure horseshit! Transparent horseshit! Ask any network agent in Europe. You couldn’t get a Briefmarke out of any German port! No one knows that better than me!”

  “Interesting, ontologically speaking. Transparency isn’t a quality one associates …”

  “No jokes! My humor’s strained!” And then suddenly David realized he had no cause to yell at the cryp. Ballard’s frame of reference was essentially the same as it had been eighteen hours ago—with complications, perhaps, but not of death and survival. Ballard did not know about the carnage at San Telmo or the tools for Peenemünde in Ocho Calle; and a Haganah that reached into the most secret recesses of Military Intelligence. Nor would he be told just now. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  “Sure sure.” Ballard replied as if he were used to other people’s tempers. Another trait common to most cryptographers, David reflected. “Jean said you were hurt; fell and cut yourself pretty badly. Did somebody push?”

  “It’s all right The doctor was here.… Did you get the information? On Ira Barden.”

  “Yeah.… I used straight G-2 in Washington. A dossier Teletype request over your name. This Barden’s going to know about it.”

  “That’s O.K. What’s it say?”

  “The whole damn thing?”

  “Whatever seems … unusual. Fairfax qualifications, probably.”

  “They don’t use the name Fairfax. Just high-priority classification.… He’s in the Reserves, not regular army. Family company’s in importing. Spent a number of years in Europe and the Middle East; speaks five languages.…”

  “And one of them’s Hebrew,” interrupted David quietly.

  “That’s right. How did …? Never mind. He spent two years at the American University in Beirut while his father represented the firm in the Mediterranean area. The company was very big in Middle East textiles. Barden transferred to Harvard, then transferred again to a small college in New York State.… I don’t know it. He majored in Near East studies, it says here. When he graduated he went into the family business until the war.… I guess it was the languages.”

  “Thanks,” said David. “Burn the Teletype, Bobby.”

  “With pleasure.… When are you coming in? You better get here before the FMF finds you. Jean can probably convince old Henderson to cool things off.”

  “Pretty soon. How’s Jean?”

  “Huh? Fine.… Scared; nervous, I guess. You’ll see. She’s a strong girl, though.”

  “Tell her not to worry.”

  “Tell her yourself.”

  “She’s there with you?”

  “No.…” Ballard drew out the word, telegraphing a note of concern that had been absent “No, she’s not with me. She’s on her way to see you.…”

  “What?”

  “The nurse. The doctor’s nurse. She called about an hour ago. She said you wanted to see Jean.” Ballard’s voice suddenly became hard and loud. “What the hell’s going on, Spaulding?”

  41

  “Surely the man from Lisbon expected countermeasures. I’m amazed he was so derelict.” Heinrich Stoltz conveyed his arrogance over the telephone. “Mrs. Cameron was a flank you took for granted, yes? A summons from a loved one is difficult to resist, is it not?”

  “Where is she?”

  “She is on her way to Luján. She will be a guest at Habichtsnest. An honored guest, I can assure you. Herr Rhinemann will be immensely pleased; I was about to telephone him. I wanted to wait until the interception wasi made.”

  “You’re out of line!” David said, trying to keep his voice calm. “You’re asking for reprisals in every neutral area. Diplomatic hostages in a neutral …”

  “A guest,” interrupted the German with relish. “Hardly a prize; a stepdaughter-in-law; the husband deceased. With no official status. So complicated, these American social rituals.”

  “You know what I mean! You don’t need diagrams!”

  “I said she was a guest! Of an eminent financier you yourself were sent to contact … concerning international economic matters, I believe. A Jew expelled from his own country, that country your enemy. I see no cause for immediate alarm.… Although, perhaps, you should.”

  There was no reason to procrastinate. Jean was no part of the bargain, no part of the indictment. To hell with the indictment! To hell with a meaningless commitment! There was no meaning!

  Only Jean.

  “Call the moves,” said David.

  “I was sure you’d cooperate. What difference does it make to you? Or to me, really.… You and I, we take orders. Leave the philosophy to men of great affairs. We survive.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a true believer. I was told you were a believer.” David spoke aimlessly; he needed time, only seconds. To think.

  “Strangely enough, I am. In a world that passed, I’m afraid. Only partially in the one that’s coming.… The remaining designs are at Habichtsnest. You and your aero-physicist will go there at once. I wish to conclude our negotiations this evening.”

  “Wait a minute!” David’s mind raced over conjectures—his counterpart’s options. “That’s not the cleanest nest I’ve been in; the inhabitants leave something to be desired.”

  “So do the guests.…”

  “Two conditions. One: I see Mrs. Cameron the minute I get there. Two: I don’t send the codes—if they’re to be sent—until she’s back at the embassy. With Lyons.”

  “We’ll discuss these points later. There is one prior condition, however.” Stoltz paused. “Should you not be at Habichtsnest this afternoon, you will never see Mrs. Cameron. As you last saw her.… Habichtsnest has so many diversions; the guests enjoy them so. Unfortunately, there have been some frightful accidents in the past On the river, in the pool … on horseback.…”

  The foreman gave them a road map and filled the FMF automobile’s gas tank with fuel from the ranch pump. Spaulding removed the orange medallions from the bumpers and blurred the numbers of the license plates by chipping away at the paint until the 7s looked like is, and 8s like3s. Then he smashed the ornament off the tip of the hood, slapped black paint over the grill and removed all four hubcaps. Finally, he took a sledgehammer and, to the amazement of the silent gaucho, he crashed it into the side door panels, trunk and roof of the car.

  When he had finished, the automobile from Fleet Marine Force looked like any number of back country wrecks.

  They drove out the road to the primitive highway by the telephone junction box and turned east toward Buenos Aires. Spaulding pressed the accelerator; the vibrations caused the loose metal to rattle throughout the car. Lyons held the unfolded map on his knees; if it was correct, they could reach the Luján district without traveling the major highways, reducing the chances of discovery by the FMF patrols that were surely out by now.

  The goddamned irony of it! thought David. Safety … safety for Jean, for him, too, really … lay in contact with the same enemy he had fought so viciously for over three years. An enemy made an ally by incredible events … treasons taking place in Washington and Berlin.

  What had Stoltz said? Leave the philosophy to men of great affairs.

  Meaning and no meaning at all.

  David nearly missed the half-concealed entrance to Habichtsnest. He was approaching it from the opposite direction on the lonely stretch of road he had traveled only once, and at night. What caused him to slow down and look to his left spotting the break in the woods, were sets of black tire marks on the light surf ace of the entrance. They had not been there long enough to be erased by the hot sun or succeeding traffic. And Spaulding recalled the words of the guard on the pier in Ocho Calle.

  … There is a lot of shouting.

  David could visualize Rh
inemann screaming his orders, causing a column of racing Bentleys and Packards to come screeching out of the hidden road from Habichtsnest on its way to a quiet street in San Telmo.

  And no doubt later—in the predawn hours—other automobiles, more sweating, frightened henchmen—racing to the small isolated peninsula that was Ocho Calle.

  With a certain professional pride, Spaulding reflected that he had interdicted well.

  Both enemies. All enemies.

  A vague plan was coming into focus, but only the outlines. So much depended on what faced them at Habichtsnest.

  And the soft-spoken words of hatred uttered by Asher Feld.

  The guards in their paramilitary uniforms leveled their rifles at the approaching automobile. Others held dogs that were straining at leashes, teeth bared, barking viciously. The man behind the electric gate shouted orders to those in front; four guards ran to the car and yanked the smashed panels open. Spaulding and Lyons got out; they were pushed against the FMF vehicle and searched.

  David kept turning his head, looking at the extended fence beyond both sides of the gate. He estimated the height and the tensile strength of the links, the points of electrical contact between the thick-poled sections. The angles of direction.

  It was part of his plan.

  Jean ran to him from across the terraced balcony. He held her, silently, for several moments. It was a brief span of sanity and he was grateful for it.

  Rhinemann stood at the railing twenty feet away, Stoltz at his side. Rhinemann’s narrow eyes stared at David from out of the folds of suntanned flesh. The look was one of despised respect, and David knew it.

  There was a third man. A tall, blond-haired man in a white Palm Beach suit seated at a glass-topped table. Spaulding did not know him.

  “David, David. What have I done?” Jean would not let him go; he stroked her soft brown hair, replying quietly.

  “Saved my life among other things.…”

  “The Third Reich has extraordinarily thorough surveillance, Mrs. Cameron,” interrupted Stoltz, smiling. “We keep watch on all Jews. Especially professional men. We knew you were friendly with the doctor in Palermo; and that the colonel was wounded. It was all quite simple.”

  “Does your surveillance of Jews include the man beside you?” asked Spaulding in a monotone.

  Stoltz paled slightly, his glance shifting unobtrusively from Rhinemann to the blond-haired man in the chair. “Herr Rhinemann understands my meaning. I speak pragmatically; of the necessary observation of hostile elements.”

  “Yes, I remember,” said David, releasing Jean, putting his arm around her shoulders. “You were very clear yesterday about the regrettable necessity of certain practicalities. I’m sorry you missed the lecture, Rhinemann. It concerned the concentration of Jewish money.… We’re here. Let’s get on with it.”

  Rhinemann stepped away from the railing. “We shall. But first, so the … circle is complete, I wish to present to you an acquaintance who has flown In from Berlin. By way of neutral passage, of course. I want you to have the opportunity of knowing you deal directly with him. The exchange is more genuine this way.”

  Spaulding looked over at the blond-haired man in the white Palm Beach suit Their eyes locked.

  “Franz Altmuller, Ministry of Armaments. Berlin,” said David.

  “Colonel David Spaulding. Fairfax. Late of Portugal. The man in Lisbon,” said Altmüller.

  “You are jackals,” added Rhinemann, “who fight as traitors fight and dishonor your houses. I say this to you both. For both to hear.… Now, as you say, colonel, we shall get on with it”

  Stoltz took Lyons below to the manicured lawn by the pool There, at a large, round table, a Rhinemann guard stood with a metal attaché case in his hand. Lyons sat down, his back to the balcony; the guard lifted the case onto the table.

  “Open it” commanded Erich Rhinemann from above.

  The guard did so; Lyons took out the plans and spread them on the table.

  Altmüller spoke. “Remain with him, Stoltz.”

  Stoltz looked up, bewildered. However, he did not speak. He walked to the edge of the pool and sat in a deck chair, his eyes fixed on Lyons.

  Altmüller turned to Jean. “May I have a word with the colonel, please?”

  Jean looked at Spaulding, She took her hand from his and walked to the far end of the balcony. Rhinemann remained in the center, staring down at Lyons.

  “For both our sakes,” said Altmüller, “I think you should tell me what happened in San Telmo.”

  David watched the German closely. Altmüller was not lying; he was not trying to trap him. He did not know about the Haganah. About Asher Feld. It was Spaulding’s only chance.

  “Gestapo,” said David, giving the lie the simplicity of conviction.

  “Impossible!” Altmüller spat out the word. “You know that’s impossible! I am here!”

  “I’ve dealt with the Gestapo—in various forms—for nearly four years. I know the enemy.… Grant me that much credit”

  “You’re wrong! There’s no possible way.!”

  “You’ve spent too much time in the ministry, not enough in the field. Do you want a professional analysis?”

  “What is it?”

  David leaned against the railing. “You’ve been had.”

  “What?”

  “Just as I’ve been had. By those who employ our considerable talents. In Berlin and Washington. There’s a remarkable coincidence, too.… They both have the same initials.… A.S.”

  Altmüller stared at Spaulding, his blue eyes penetrating, his mouth parted slightly—in disbelief. He spoke the name under his breath

  “Albert Speer.…”

  “Alan Swanson,” countered David softly.

  “It can’t be” said Altmüller with less conviction than he wished to muster. “He doesn’t know.…”

  “Don’t go into the field without some advanced training. You won’t last.… Why do you think I offered to make a deal with Rhinemann?”

  Altmüller was listening but not listening. He took his eyes from Spaulding, seemingly consumed with the pieces of an incredible puzzle. “If what you say is true—and by no means do I agree—the codes would not be sent, the transfer aborted. There would be no radio silence; your fleet cruising, radar and aircraft in operation. Everything lost!”

  David folded his arms in front of him. It was the moment when the lie would either be bought or rejected out of hand. He knew it; he felt as he had felt scores of times in the north country when the lie was the keystone. “Your side plays rougher than mine. It goes with the New Order. My people won’t kill me; they just want to make sure I don’t know anything. All they care about are those designs.… With you it’s different. Your people keep their options open.”

  David stopped and smiled at Rhinemann, who had turned from his sentry position by the balcony and was looking at them. Altmüller kept his eyes on Spaulding … the inexperienced “runner” being taught, thought David.

  “And in your judgment, what are these options?”

  “A couple I can think of,” replied Spaulding. “Immobilize me, force in another code man at the last minute, substitute faulty blueprints; or get the diamonds out from Ocho Calle some other way than by water—difficult with those crates, but not impossible.”

  “Then why should I not let these options be exercised? You tempt me.”

  Spaulding had been glancing up, at nothing. Suddenly he turned and looked at Altmüller. “Don’t ever go into the field; you won’t last a day. Stay at your ministry.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Any alternate strategy used, you’re dead. You’re a liability now. You ‘dealt’ with the enemy. Speer knows it, the Gestapo knows it. Your only chance is to use what you know. Just like me. You for your life; me for a great deal of money. Christ knows, the aircraft companies will make a pile; I deserve some of it.”

  Altmüller took two steps to the railing and stood alongside David, looking down at the dis
tant river below. “It’s all so pointless.”

  “Not when you think about it,” said Spaulding. “Something for nothing never is in this business.”

  David, staring straight ahead, could feel Altmüller’s eyes abruptly on him. He could sense the new thought coming into focus in Altmüller’s mind.

  “Your generosity may be your undoing, colonel.… We can still have something for nothing. And I, a hero’s medal from the Reich. We have you. Mrs. Cameron. The physicist’s expendable, I’m sure.… You will send the codes. You were willing to negotiate for money. Surely you’ll negotiate for your lives.”

  Like Altmüller, David stared straight ahead when he replied. His arms still folded, he was irritatingly relaxed, as he knew he had to be. “Those negotiations have been concluded. If Lyons approves the blueprints, I’ll send the codes when he and Mrs. Cameron are back at the embassy. Not before.”

  “You’ll send them when I order you to.” Altmüller was finding it difficult to keep his voice low. Rhinemann looked over again but made no move to interfere. Spaulding understood. Rhinemann was toying with his jackals.

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” said David.

  “Then extremely unpleasant things will happen. To Mrs. Cameron first.”

  “Give it up.” David sighed. “Play by the original rules. You haven’t a chance.”

  “You talk confidently for a man alone.”

  Spaulding pushed himself off the railing and turned, facing the German. He spoke barely above a whisper. “You really are a goddamned fool. You wouldn’t last an hour in Lisbon.… Do you think I drove in here without any backups? Do you think Rhinemann expected me to?… We men in the field are very cautious, very cowardly; we’re not heroic at all. We don’t blow up buildings if there’s a chance we’ll still be inside. We won’t destroy an enemy bridge unless there’s another way back to our side.”

  “You are alone. There are no bridges left for you!”

  David looked at Altmüller as if appraising a bad cut of meat, then glanced at his watch. “Your Stoltz was a fool. If I don’t make a call within fifteen minutes, there’ll be a lot of busy telephones resulting in God knows how many very official automobiles driving out to Luján. I’m a military attaché stationed at the American embassy. I accompanied the ambassador’s daughter to Luján. That’s enough.”

 
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