Kelly sat down again looking angry. The suit had looked startled at first but had regained control very quickly. This one is a pretty cool customer, thought Kelly.
After a pause, the suit said quietly, “I believe Kupres was in late summer forty-two? At that time, I was probably crossing the Don River just outside Stalingrad. I wasn’t behind a desk, Herr Hauptmann, I was fighting for the Fatherland, just as you were fighting for Croatia at Kupres. But all of that is irrelevant. I am not trying to trick you or humiliate you; I am just gathering information which will help us to determine how we can best help you. So, I ask again, did you fight alongside German troops in Yugoslavia?”
Kelly looked mollified, and answered quietly. “Yes, at the beginning of forty-two, Operation Ozren. We were attached to the 718th Division, under the overall command of … let me think, either General Bader or General Fortner … yes, it was Fortner. Bader was commander of Operation Trio, later in the year.”
“You don’t sound too sure?” queried the suit.
“I’m quite sure that was the right way round,” said Kelly decisively. “Fortner, Ozren and Bader, Trio. You have to understand that I wasn’t on first name terms with either of the German generals,” he added sarcastically.
The suit smiled. “I know what you mean,” he said, nodding. “I was under Manstein at Stalingrad, but I doubt if I could have picked him out in a line-up.” The little man stood up and buttoned his jacket. “Thank you for your patience, Herr Hauptmann, I think I now have enough. What will happen now, is that you will be shuttled down to Austria, and from there a different organisation will take over your final transfer to Rome.”
“A different organisation?” queried Kelly.
“Yes, but don’t worry—they are quite trustworthy and reliable. They are called the Vatican,” he said, laughing. “Do you have the money for your transfer?”
“That man Manteufel has it, but frankly I wouldn’t trust him with the small change from my pocket,” said Kelly.
“Oh, don’t worry, Horst is fine,” said the suit. “He’s a good man, we’ve worked with him before. Well, it remains for me to wish you well. I will monitor your progress down the line with interest. For your reference, my name is Eric Gottfried Freiherr von Neuenstein, former major of the 22nd Panzer Division,” he said, extending his hand.
Kelly sprang to his feet and grasped the outstretched hand, shaking it vigorously. “Thank you for all your help, Herr Major, and my apologies for losing my temper.”
“Think nothing of it. Perfectly understandable, and don’t worry, Herr Hauptmann, things are starting to change. The Thule is currently working extremely hard to have Field Marshall Manstein released from prison. When that happens, he will join Konrad Adenauer and advise him on the creation of a new, highly-skilled German army, small at first, conscript only, but that will give us a basis for expanding quickly to a large standing army of millions when the time comes.
“In the meantime, Walter Hallstein is continuing the work started by Walter Funk, which will eventually manifest itself in a United States of Europe, led by Germany. Our agents are slowly planting the seeds of dissent in the East Germans. When the time comes—it’s a long way off at the moment, but when the time comes—we will light the spark that will topple the regime in East Germany and bring about the reunification of our great nation. The capital will return to its proper place and the Fourth Reich will rise like a phoenix from the ashes of Berlin.”
Clicking his heels together, von Neuenstein raised his arm in the Nazi salute. “Heil!”
Kelly responded in kind, as did the two bodyguards and Manteufel, then, without a further word, von Neuenstein turned on his heel and walked towards the barn door. He spoke for some time with Manteufel before getting into his pre-war two-stroke DKW F7 and driving off in the old car, sounding for all the world like a bag of spanners rattling around.
After they had gone, the farmer came into the barn. “You may need to stay here for a few days,” he said, “until we can arrange your first move, but don’t worry—it’s safe. The local police chief gets a sizable basket of food once a week. They don’t bother us.” He pointed to a ladder leaning against an upper section of the barn. “Use the loft, it’s comfortable up there, plenty of straw, and you’ll find blankets and a few bottles of water. We’ll bring your meals out at the usual times. Oh, and don’t forget to pull the ladder up after you.”
Kelly and Manteufel were making themselves comfortable in the loft, constructing makeshift palliasses from straw and blankets. Manteufel punched his palliasse a few times then knelt on it.
“It’ll do,” he concluded. “I was wondering, where did you get all that bullshit you were giving our little SS man? Ozren, Trio, Kupres, what was all that about?”
“Preparation and planning!” said Kelly. “When I was training, I spent a lot of time with the Royal Marines. Every marine from the rank of corporal upwards has a phrase called the six Ps drummed into his head. I was using that.”
“The six Ps?” queried Manteufel, sounding puzzled.
“I’ll give it to you in English, otherwise it won’t make sense. ‘Preparation and Planning Prevents Piss-Poor Performance’. Understand?” he asked, reverting to German. “I was fairly sure someone, somewhere down the line, would ask about Ustase exploits in Yugoslavia during the war, so I made sure I read up on it in the archives. Preparation and planning, my friend, is why we won the war,” said Kelly, looking away from Manteufel and ostentatiously examining the rafters in the roof, a smirk across his face.
Manteufel laughed. “Are you sure you won the war? Our little SS friend might disagree with you!”
It was Kelly’s turn to laugh. “You’re right, Horst, I sometimes have
