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“We could arrange to be captured here,” Müller went on doggedly. “Have you thought about that? We just don’t show up at the airport.”
“That would work for you,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “If you want, you can do just that.”
“It wouldn’t work for you? Why not?”
“You would be considered a soldier and become a POW,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “I have a diplomatic passport. I’m quite sure they would put me on a plane to Lisbon for return to Germany.”
“Not if you said you didn’t want to go,” Müller said.
“But I have to go, Johnny,” von Heurten-Mitnitz, said. “You understand that.”
Müller snorted, drained his Steinhager, and poured another.
“You have to put things in perspective,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “Although it just began, the invasion of North Africa is already history. What they want me for is the future.”
Müller grunted again.
“What they want us for, you mean.” He paused, frowning. “And aren’t you afraid that you—and, for that matter, me—that we’ll look bad in Berlin for not having done more than we did here?”
“Are we going to be blamed, you mean? Or regarded with suspicion?” von Heurten-Mitnitz asked and went on without waiting for a reply. “I don’t think so. I think what happened here will be regarded as yet another manifestation of French perfidy and ineptitude in battle. And with the Americans in Morocco, I think the Führer and his entourage will want to put the unpleasant subject out of mind. Until, of course, the Führer in his good time decides to take Morocco back.”
Müller snorted derisively.
“And have the Americans told you what they want from us in Germany?”
“To a degree,” Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “But I think the less you know about that now, the better.”
He closed his suitcase and buckled its leather straps.
“Are you packed?”
“I packed right after Fulmar telephoned me,” Müller said.
“Well, then, let’s collect your luggage and go out to the airfield,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. He looked at Müller. “Johnny, if you want to stay and be captured, I’ll understand. I can also come up with a convincing story to explai
n it back home. You know, devotion to duty and all the rest of it.”
“Jesus Christ, don’t make it easy for me,” Müller said. “I’ve almost talked myself into staying. Almost, shit! When I walked in here, I was going to tell you I was staying. And then I remember what those swine did in Russia. What they’re doing in Germany, to Germans…”
“Yes,”von Heurten-Mitnitz said, understanding.
He looked around the room. “I rather hate to be leaving,” he said. “There’s much about Morocco I really like.”
Müller looked at him.
"I wish we were going someplace besides Germany,” he said.
Chapter FOUR
Washington, D.C.
12 November 1942
OPERATIONAL IMMEDIATE
SUPREME HEADQUARTERS ALLIED EXPEDITIONARY FORCE
GIBRALTAR 1015 HOURS I2 NOV 42
