The Shadowboxer (2 page)

Vetter stared at his companion. He could see the guard patrols in the background. He turned slowly to the forest and gazed across the void. A light flashed twice. He began running.

Vetter fell against a tree with a white rag tied to a lower limb and fought for breath. He glanced back at the camp. Five guard towers were aflame. He stumbled into the woods. The rags were distinct, the path easily followed. He pushed through a thicket. A truck stood waiting. He dashed toward it. It began to move. He jumped onto the runningboard and scrambled into the cab. He had never before seen the man behind the wheel.

“Where is Kuprov?” Vetter demanded. “Why isn't Kuprov here? Kuprov was—” He did not have to look down to know a knife was pressing against his ribs.

“Keep it quiet and mind your manners,” Erik Spangler said gently, “and everything will be all right.”

The exterior guard was alerted within seconds of the explosions. Patrols fanned out and took prearranged emergency positions. The truck was spotted bouncing wildly along a hill crest. Machine guns and light artillery were ready. The barrage was accurate. The vehicle disintegrated in the glare of exploding gasoline.

PART ONE

The Webber Proposition

1

Washington, D.C.,—1944—U. S. Senate investigators today stated that British claims of German bombing damage to London and other major cities had been greatly exaggerated.

The investigators found that most English cities, including London, were generally unharmed and that what little damage there was had been limited strictly to strategic military targets.

The investigators lauded the skill and humanity of Luftwaffe personnel in sparing innocent civilians—especially in light of the Royal Air Force's policy of saturation bombing of German cities.

—Article from the
German Popular Gazette
, printed 17 January 1944, for release no sooner than 25 April 1944

CHRONOLOGY OF EVENTS

(C.O.E.)

(Revised 15 January 1944)

SS Standartenfuehrer Helmuth Webber, SD-Ausland, turned back to the first page of the Chronology of Events, began jotting down the dates of the events and rearranging them in columns. Webber flipped closed the worn cover of the three-inch-thick “Spangler Dossier,” pushed it aside and glanced at his aide.

“We will be bringing the prisoner with us,” he announced.

“Yes, Herr Standartenfuehrer.”

“And make certain he's well treated.”

“Yes, Herr Standartenfuehrer.”

Webber waited for the door to close before glancing down at the columns again. His smile was hesitant; the first snicker, perfunctory.

Helmuth Webber was a dour, intractable man, a German far removed from frivolity. Now his laughter grew so intense he had to grip the edge of the Biedemeier table for stability. He was near convulsion when von Schleiben's steward entered the compartment. The confused attendant waited a full forty seconds before Webber gained control.

“Herr Standartenfuehrer,” the steward finally managed to say, “your bath is ready.”

“My what?” the colonel asked breathlessly.

“Your bath, Herr Standartenfuehrer. It's drawn.”

Again laughter erupted. Webber rose weakly. “Why the devil not?” he rasped, slapping the startled attendant on the back. “Why shouldn't we all take a bath?” He followed the red-liveried steward through the private railroad car.

Von Schleiben's “Chariot” was legendary throughout the Reich. Everyone knew it had been a personal gift from Hermann Goering, who, as everyone also knew, had requisitioned it from a nameless French financier. But could a Frenchman's taste meet the standards of von Schleiben? The risk of comparison had been avoided deftly. Heinrich Himmler led the way. His SS had provided the funds for reconversion, while Himmler himself had donated the mahogany-paneled conference room with its blue velvet chairs, thick blue carpeting, Viennese chandeliers and priceless Biedemeier table. KRIPO, the State Criminal Police, and SIPO, the Reich's Security Police, had banded together and contributed the communications room. The all-metal galley had been provided by ABWEHR, German Military Intelligence.

It was the Gestapo which made the most expansive and calculated gesture for the comfort and favor of SS Obergruppenfuehrer von Schleiben—the salon.

All six Gestapo sections gave, and gave generously. One result was a bedroom reverberating in reds. The carved walnut four-poster boasted burgundy silk sheets, magenta cashmere blankets and a claret satin canopy. The walls were upholstered in scarlet velvet, which blended perfectly with the five-ply carpet.

It was with the bathroom that the Gestapo had hoped to outdo itself—and outshine its competitors. Carrara marble, ivory white with slight bleedings of pink, covered wall, ceiling and floor. The sunken rose-marble tub was adorned with golden spouts, golden drain top and five solid-gold faucets. Two of the handles controlled bath water, two the shower, and the fifth steam. With the flick of von Schleiben's wrist the marble room could be converted into a steam bath.

WVHA, the camp security group, had reached into its meager coffers and managed to have the exterior of the Chariot sprayed a rich vermilion.

The reason for all this concern and expense was a much-discussed secret: as director of the Council for Extreme Security, Hugo Thomas von Schleiben was one of the most powerful men in the Third Reich's maze of police and intelligence networks. Every major organization was only too eager to contribute to the general's private transportation.

It surprised no one and delighted all that the Chariot became von Schleiben's most prized and guarded possession. No one but the general himself and the maintenance staff had ever set foot, let alone ridden, in the vermilion railroad car.

Now, for the first time without von Schleiben aboard, the Chariot had been dispatched to the Belgian border for just one purpose: to transport Helmuth Webber, a mere colonel, back to Munich. The trip was classified Reich top secret.

The washcloth steamed. Webber held it tight to his face. He preferred Berlin water. You could always wash better in it. It improved your skin. Lather spread. Von Schleiben's gold straight razor, a gift from Heinrich Mueller of the Frontier Police, deftly sliced away the two-day stubble. He replaced the monocle over his left eye. The triptych mirrors were wiped clear of steam. Webber examined the three-quarter profile of aquiline nose, sunken cheek, arched forehead and thin lips.

“You know, dear fellow,” he confided to his triple image, “it was there all the time. Just waiting there, right in front of them—but
we
were the only ones to see it.
We
were the only ones to make sense of it.”

Helmuth Webber was a member of SD-Ausland, one of Germany's most elite and effective foreign-intelligence services. Seldom, if ever, did SD-Ausland demean itself with problems of a domestic nature, such as concentration-camp security.

Escapes from concentration camps were a different matter. Even though the basic jurisdiction for such events fell to WVHA or, in more critical instances, to the Gestapo, there was always the possibility that some Allied operation had penetrated the Reich's borders and had brought out not only prisoners, but information as well. Information concerning camp activities was a rather sensitive issue among Reich officials. Thus, SD-Ausland had always kept a watchful, though semiofficial, eye on these situations. As the incidence of assisted escapes began to accelerate, SD-Ausland had become more directly involved.

Webber slid into the hot water. The wall table was lowered over him, and a tray bearing gold dishes and a bottle of Dom Perignon champagne was set down. The covers were lifted. Malossol caviar. A
vol-au-vent
. Real butter. He began eating.

… ensuing confusion caused by explosions and subsequent blackout (second power failure), prisoner Vetter escaped from the compound through a hole cut in de-electrified west fence and fled to wooded area half kilometer beyond. Escape took place at approximately 0100 hours 9 January 1944.


(NOTE: Vetter is believed to have had one or more accomplices to this point. Investigation now in progress.)


On reaching tree line Vetter followed series of cloth markers which led him to truck believed to be driven by SPANGLER.


Tire tracks reveal truck followed a northwesterly route across open field, turned due west along goat path and continued on path until reaching stream. Truck followed along stream bank in southerly direction for 2.2 kilometers, crossed at shallow point, turned due east, skirted wheat field and started parallel along hillside.


At this juncture Exterior Guard Patrol (EGP) VII spotted vehicle and radio-reported its position. EGPs IV and XI moved into area and deployed. Patrols commenced firing, overturning and destroying truck.