The Hunt

“Is the Third Reich your dream, 1-lans?”

“Yes.”

“The most important thing in the world?”

“Yes.”

“More important than your career, even life itself?”

“Yes!”

Hitler poured himself another glass of wine. His gaze was riveted to Ingersoll’s. He sipped the wine and leaned forward again and nodded.

“I believe you. And I believe that if I told you I had an impossible mission to be performed, a mission requiring great personal sacrifice, one which would require giving up your name, your career, your fortune— everything—I do believe that if I asked you to take on such a mission, you would say yes.”

Ingersoll said nothing. Hitler’s words had put him in a near trance of ecstasy.

“Even if this mission meant living in a country you detest for years, six, seven, perhaps?”

Now Hitler leaned closer, his voice a whisper.

“Even if I tell you this mission is so secret that I cannot tell—even you—what it will be. Only the professor and I will know, until it is time for you to act. Even then I believe you would accept such an assignment.”

“It would be an honor even to be considered for such a task,” Ingersoll whispered back.

“Well, Hans Wolfe, so you are. You are the man I want to carry out that mission.”

Stunned, Ingersoll looked back and forth between the two men.

Is he serious, he wondered. Is this some kind of a test of my loyalty, my trust in him?

“There is within the SS a highly guarded unit called Die Sechs Fuchse, the Six Foxes. It is headed by Professor Vierhaus. There are only five members, including himself. Each of the other four is a unique individual, like yourself. Each has been given a specific mission to perform. Each is known by a code name known only to Willie and myself. Even Himmler does not know their identities or their individual objectives. There are no written reports and no records kept by the Six Foxes. The reason is that these missions are so sensitive, so secret, that we cannot afford even the slightest breach of security. The individuals themselves do not know the nature of the assignments. Obviously if they were caught and gave up the secret, that mission would have to be abandoned. And each of these missions is vital to the future of Deutschland.”

“I understand,” Ingersoll said.

“The agents of Die Sechs Fuchse report only to Vierhaus and he reports only to me. The particular assignment we have in mind for you would, in the event war is imminent with the United States, paralyze their war effort and neutralize them. It would, we are certain, keep the United States out of the war. In other words, Hans, this mission could directly affect the outcome of our struggle. So, if you choose to accept and are successful, you will be the single most important war hero in the history of the Third Reich.”

Ingersoll’s excitement flooded over. He began to speak but Hitler held up a finger.

“Before you say anything, Hans Wolfe, you must understand if you accept this job, both Hans Wolfe and Johann Ingersoll must die. You would become a man without an identity. A number.”

“A number?”

“Willie ………. Hitler said.

“You would be known only as Siebenundzwanzig.”

“Twenty-seven? Why twenty-seven?”

“You will understand in time,” Vierhaus said. “Between the three of us, we will shorten it to Swan. I would suggest that we move your personal fortune to Swiss banks, although you would have to promise never to draw money from these accounts until the mission is complete. Upon your death, your property would be sold and those funds, too, would be deposited in Switzerland. We cannot afford to establish the remotest kind of paper trail. Does that make sense?”

Almost in a state of shock, Ingersoll merely nodded.

“You will be trained in every facet of espionage, sabotage and survival,” Vierhaus continued. “When you are ready you will be the most competent agent in the German intelligence system. And then you would go underground until the time is right. And that, dear sir, could be,” and he paused before completing the sentence, “five to eight years from now.”

“What would I do for eight years?”

“Wait,” said Hitler. And then he smiled. A genuine, uncomplicated smile. “Become an American. A plain, insignificant American.”

Ingersoll could not speak. The awesome scope of Hitler’s proposal had short-circuited his thinking powers. Too much had happened in the last few minutes for him to rationally sort it all out. Only one thought was beginning to come through: to become another person, in another country. What an acting job. The world’s greatest acting job. . .

“Wealth, recognition, fame. . . all these things are yours,” Hitler continued. “To give all that up for any reason is almost unthinkable.” Hitler stared into the fire. The flames crackled in the now total silence. “There have been many sacrifices made for the glory of Deutschland and there will be many, many more. But none will be greater than what I have proposed to you

. . Colonel Wolfe.”