The Shifting Realities of PK Dick

"Biographical Material on Hawthorne Abendsen" (1974)

I am, of course, one of Mr. Abendsen's admirers; my own works, such as they are, have been influenced strongly by his, in particular my novel Man in the High Castle (Berkley Books, U.S.A., 1974 [a reprint paperback edition]).

It goes without saying that The Grasshopper Lies Heavy (its German title, Schwer Liegt die Heuschrecke [Miinchen: Konig Verlag, 1974] is perhaps more familiar to us) has become Hawthorne Abendsen's most renowned book, although "underground" both in printing and distribution, due to its political and religious nature. Although Grasshopper offended the Authorities, they themselves studied it with keen professional intent, for it outlines major historic "possibilities" of an "alternate world," of a sort familiar to SF readers, in which the Axis is not favorably described, thus causing Mr. Abendsen and his family to seek an uneasy and certainly temporary sanctuary in the Rocky Mountain states between the two more militant zones of the United States, partitioned off by treaty after the defeat of the Communist-Plutocrat Alliance.

Further writing by Mr. Abendsen, who lives as modest and conventional a family life as possible, in view of his vulnerability to police reprisal for his famous underground novel in which the Axis lost the war, is meager; most appear in the form of hasty letters printed in nonprofit "fanzines," as they are called, outside the United States -- for obvious reasons.

The Two Completed Chapters of a Proposed Sequel to The Man in the High Castle (1964)

ONE

On the morning of August fifth, 1956, Reichsmarshal Hermann Goring flew north from the big Luftwaffe base located at Miami, Florida. He had not wakened in a good mood; on his mind, like an iron press, rested the recent memory of the Little Doktor's appointment as chancellor of Germany and all German-occupied territory. And when one ponders, Goring thought, it was after all my bombers that defeated England and won for us the war; the Ministry of Propaganda did nothing more than whip up and excoriate the people to a useless but fashionable enthusiasm.

Below him the Gau of Virginia passed; his R-15 Messerschmitt rocket flew low enough for him to glimpse black specks: slaves working the fields in the God-ordained manner, both timeless and circular. It appealed to reason and to good sense. But nothing could please him today.

He had not properly anticipated the death of the old chancellor, Bormann. Others had, as, for example, Goebbels himself -- not to mention the eager eggheads in the higher SS. Keeping politically alert, however, had not benefited the Reichsfuhrer SS, Reinhardt Heydrich, who chafed, fumed, and wrote many memos at his permanent headquarters on Prinz-Albrechstrasse, home in Berlin. I wonder what he intends? the Reichsmarshal mused. Supposedly a concentration of Waffen-SS troops and armor, specifically the Leibstandarte Division, commanded by old, dependable Sepp Dietrich, had gathered in order to protect Heydrich from removal -- Dr. Goebbels had certainly by now considered that -- and in addition to threaten the party, should it fish for a loyalty oath to the new chancellor by the generals, something Bormann had been unable to do. And then, meditating, he wondered once again if he had been wise to leave the Miami Luftwaffe base, his center of protection throughout the current crisis. After all, Baldur von Scherach, the head of the Hitler Youth, had been arrested on Goebbels' order. But Goebbels had been jealous of von Scherach since the success of Project Farmland: the draining of the Mediterranean. The project -- Scherach's one achievement -- had been popular with the masses whom Goebbels appealed to, so there lay a conflict of interests... resolved a few days ago by von Sherach's arrest.

Of course, in a showdown the Wehrmacht had an advantage: possession, solely and exclusively, of the hydrogen bomb. For years the SS had sent its agents skulking about army installations, trying to learn enough to build a nuclear reactor of their own. Evidently they had failed. But any government, representing either the party or the SS -- or a third force, perhaps a coalition -- would need the generals, in particular the support of the supreme wartime field marshal, General Rommel, living now in retirement, but still vigorous. And still hating the party and the SS for his removal as Military Governor of German-occupied America a few years after Capitulation Day -- a day that he believed in his arrogant ignorance he had personally brought about at Cairo. Whereas the knocking out of the English radar network by the Luftwaffe had achieved the victory, as every German schoolboy knew.

The autopilot of the R-15 bleeped, indicating that he had reached his destination, Albany, New York.

I hope, he thought, that Fritz Sacher has come up with proof of his contention. If so, I will reward him. The reward, carefully wrapped in cloth, lay in the rear compartment of the ship: a great bottle containing a uniquely deformed fetus, the product of medical experiments carried out by Dr. Seyss-Inquart. The father had been a Slav, the mother a Negress. The fetus, worked on by Seyss-Inquart's staff during its development in the womb, had a foot where its head should have been and eyes at the end of its feet. Only this one existed, and it had been part of the Reichsmarshal's collection of more than a hundred genetic sports. It was in fact the best. But pleasing Fritz Sacher came before the pride of collecting, at least if the research scientist's claims could be believed.

An armed patrol with dogs kept watch along the perimeter of Sacher's New York estate, but it was through secrecy that the operation protected itself. Luftwaffe funds supported it; hence his knowledge. The Abwehr, Naval Counterintelligence, supplied men and so Admiral Canaris knew, too. He was not therefore surprised when, upon climbing from the R-15, he found both Sacher and Canaris waiting for him.

Puffing with the exertion of descending the rungs of his ship, Goring said, "I brought you a Wunderkind, Herr Sacher." He eyed Admiral Canaris, whom he did not like. "Nothing for you."

"Der Dicke [the Fat One] emulates the Japanese," Canaris said to no one in particular. "The giving of gifts. Ceremony." He examined his watch. "I'd like to get started." He started from the field, into the building that had once been a governor's mansion in the prewar days when America had governed itself.

"Try and guess the deformity of this," Goring said, reaching up to grasp the bulky, cloth-wrapped bottle.

"Who knows you're here, Reichsmarshal?" Sacher asked. "Anyone in the SS? We're especially concerned about the SS."

"Only my own people," Goring answered as he lifted down the bottle and held it out to the young scientist Sacher. "This one is novel; it will give you quite a lift."

Accepting the bottle, Sacher said, "Many thanks, Reichsmarshal. Your collection of enormities is well known. I remember as a schoolchild touring your villa near Brenner and seeing..." He had by now unwrapped the bottle. "A cephalopedalis. Well. How nice." He stared fixedly at the fetus floating gradually to the bottom of the bottle. "Must be worth at least a thousand Reichsmarks at home; even more here. I have as yet created no real collection myself; only a few -- "

"Can we get started?" Admiral Canaris called sharply.

They entered the building. Goring and Canaris followed the white-robed research scientist down a hallway and into a large room that, the Reichsmarshal guessed, had once been a dining room. The two men sat at a table with papers and objects before them, neither of them particularly distinguished-looking; they both seemed ill-at-ease, and when they made out the Reichsmarshal they rose awkwardly in respect.

"These are the surviving members of the twelve-man Kommando group originally sent through our nexus," Sacher said. "That is now eighteen months ago that we first became aware of the parallel universe, which we then called die Nebenwelt, because it borders this, and is beside it constantly, plus being available by means of a weak spot, such as exists here. Such we have known the entire eighteen months. Now we can present accurate specifics relating to this Nebenwelt, and it is for this presentation, Herr Reichsmarshal, that Admiral Canaris and yourself have been asked to meet with me here. I introduce Herr Kohler and Herr Seligsohn to you; they will speak briefly on their encounter."

"I am Kohler," the shorter of the two men explained. Beside him his companion self-consciously reseated himself. In a squeaky, untrained voice Kohler continued, "We with others of our Kommando unit who survived the crossing from here to that world but who did not also survive the crossing back, as we did, lived ordinary lives in the Nebenwelt for virtually a year and a half, speaking the English language with facility, it being the language of this geographical area in that universe. We found it to be a reasonably satisfactory milieu, but overrun with Jews. We inquired, via the public library and through accidental contacts, as to why that would be, and also why English and not German dominates as the spoken and written language. As we had anticipated before our crossing -- as Herr Sacher originally theorized -- the Nebenwelt constitutes an alternate Earth to ours in which the Rome-Berlin-Tokyo Axis mishandled the war and allowed the Allied Nations of Communism and Plutocracy a victory by default. Because of this, America remains a number one Jew State, and the Bolsheviks control half the world, the other half; they have divided the world between them, as Dr. Goebbels predicted in event of an Axis defeat."

There was silence, then. No one spoke as the Reichsmarshal and Admiral Canaris pondered.

"Did you manage," Canaris asked presently, "to make out specifically why their war miscarried?"

Irritably, Goring said, "What does that matter? Technical details; for academic scholars." To Sacher he said, "Your Nebenwelt is a hallucination, a phantasm. It isn't real, not like this." He rapped his knuckles noisily against a nearby case filled with scientific texts.

Kohler said, "We brought back artifactual documentation."

"Faked," Goring said bitingly.

"It is up to me to determine that," Admiral Canaris pointed out. He walked to the table, bent to scrutinize the assembled papers and objects. "Why do you reject this idea ad hoc, Reichsmarshal?" He glanced inquiringly at Goring. "Is it that you can't conceive of this? As Herr Kohler says, we've known of it -- at least theoretically -- for a year and a half. You've had a long time to digest the idea, and now we have material brought back by men who've been living there. I find it intriguing." He picked up a massive book from the desk, thumbed through it intently. "But, of course, disturbing." He eyed Kohler, who remained doggedly on his feet, unwilling to back down. "We have here something called The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, by William Shirer." Glancing at Kohler, he said, "I gather this will answer as to the 'technical details.' " His voice was withering.

"The period up to 1945," Kohler agreed, nodding. "I have read it several times; it is complete, absolutely the best I could find there. At several bookstores in New York I asked and was told this volume is totally comprehensive; it is certainly not one I selected at random." His voice rang with conviction. "And it certainly is not faked."

Sacher said, "While waiting for you, Admiral, and you, Reichsmarshal, to arrive here" -- he took the book from Canaris, opened to a marked place -- "I personally examined this. Let me read you."

"Just tell us," Canaris said.

"Their history," Sacher said, "apparently diverged from ours in the early thirties. President Roosevelt was not successfully assassinated and was in office in 1941 when America entered the war against the Axis."

"Bricker never became president?" Canaris said alertly.

"No, Herr Admiral." Sacher shook his head.

"In prosecuting the war," Kohler said, "Field Marshal Rommel failed to take Cairo and therefore never managed to link up with the German army coming down from Russia. Nor did the German army break the Russian lines; at a town called Stalingrad on the Volga the Communist hordes counterattacked and destroyed our entire Sixth Army corps."

Beside him Herr Seligsohn murmured, "And" -- he did not look directly at Goring -- "the Luftwaffe concentrated on bombing civilian population centers in Britain and did not put out of action their radar network. So, consequently, no invasion of the British Isles took place."

"Toward the end of the war," Kohler said, "the Anglo-Saxon powers developed the atomic bomb. The Jew Einstein suggested it in a letter to Roosevelt, although himself born in Germany; he betrayed his homeland."

Goring said, "Germany is not a homeland for any Jew."

Drily, Canaris said, "Herr Einstein seems to have agreed."

"They brought back material," Sacher said, "on the condition of Germany as it is now. It has been divided between the Anglo-Saxon powers and Communist Russia. Split in half, no longer a nation." He added, "Japan is as of this date a satellite of the United States. And communism has spread throughout the Orient; specifically into China." His voice was stony, impersonal, a mere recitation of facts without emotion. "It becomes evident how vital the assassination of Roosevelt was in shaping our world. If any one single event could be said to have -- "

"I would be interested in knowing," Goring broke in, "how our great wartime Field Marshal Erwin Rommel, who lead us to victory in '47, fared in this so-called Nebenwelt. I cannot imagine him in defeat."

"After the loss of North Africa," Kohler said, "the field marshal was transferred to France to take command of the forces awaiting invasion from England. While en route by car he was spotted by a British Spitfire and machine-gunned, hence hospitalized. He did not command during the invasion of Festung Europa at its West Wall." He paused. And then in a low voice said, "There is more."

"Well?" Goring demanded.

"Field Marshal Rommel joined a group of traitors conspiring against the life of Adolf Hitler."

"That could never be," Goring said.

"Wait," Canaris said, gesturing tensely. "Let him finish."

"The plot failed," Kohler said. "The conspirators were strangled and hung from meathooks, which is appropriate. Erwin Rommel, being a soldier and former patriot, was allowed to shoot himself. He so did."

Again there was silence, long and strained.

"I think," Goring said at last, "that these so-called 'artifactual documentations' are forgeries put together by the Abwehr." He studied Admiral Canaris, trying to penetrate the slightly ironic mask that had, at his words, slid in place. "The motivation, however, is unclear to me. Obviously in part it is to slander the field marshal. The rest I do not understand." He made his voice harsh and affirmative, but inwardly he felt doubt, confusion. He needed time to digest all of this. Certainly this trumped-up "disclosure" related to the current political crisis in the Reich's politics; that much was clear. Intuitively he sensed that Admiral Canaris and his counterintelligence organization had engineered the venture; after all, Kohler and Seligsohn were Abwehr agents, as had been the entire Kommando squad.

And yet -- it appeared true that an alternate universe did exist, as Sacher had, for a year and a half, declared. That much we did not dispute. If only he could send some of his own Luftwaffe people, loyal to him...

"I hasten to add, Herr Reichsmarshal," Kohler said, "that the decision to bomb English cities and not the radar network was not yours but the Fuhrer's." He peered hopefully at Goring.

Pacing about, his arms folded, Admiral Canaris said, half to himself, "For several minutes now I have been thinking of something odd. In Japanese-controlled regions, specifically the Rocky Mountain states and the PSA, a book has been circulating; it is banned here, but my office has routinely examined it. They say it's very popular among the Japanese, for reasons I do not understand. It is a work of fiction, pure fiction, or at least so we have up to now supposed."

"The Grasshopper Lies Heavy," Goring said. He had read it; the ban on reading Hawthorne Abendsen's book did, of course, not apply to him. "A narrative of the world as it would be today if the Allied powers had won the war."

Canaris said, "And also an analysis of how the Allied Powers could have won. They could have won, this Abendsen alleges, if the Soviet Union had stopped General von Paulus at Stalingrad. Abendsen bases his fictional world specifically on that." Turning to Sacher he said, "This is a historical condition reported by these two Kommandos; this occurred in Nebenwelt, so it would appear to me that Abendsen's book is an account of Nebenwelt."

"Not quite," Kohler said. "Both Seligsohn and myself are familiar with Abendsen's book; there is a vague resemblance between the world he describes and the environment studied by us over the past eighteen months. But many details vary. The relationship fails to be precise. By example, in the book Rexford Tugwell is president at the time America enters the war; in Nebenwelt, Roosevelt still -- "

"But Abendsen," Canaris persisted, "seems to have had at least a diffuse awareness of the Nebenwelt. Even if details differ, the resemblance is basic; to ignore it would be politically unwise."

"Why unwise?" Goring said.

Canaris gestured. "It means that Sacher has no monopoly as to access to Nebenwelt. If one man, Hawthorne Abendsen, is aware of it, then others can be -- have already been, perhaps. We don't have the undivided control over egress that we need."

"Need for what?" Goring said. He had never been able to fathom the admiral's convoluted thinking, typical as it was of intelligence reasoning.

A veiled expression appeared on the admiral's face. Obviously choosing his words with care, he said, "Any military operation planned by the army would now of necessity be shelved -- in view of this."

"Why?" Goring said, still not following. "What military undertaking is planned?" He thought at once of the space program, the colonization of Venus and Mars. So far, the Wehrmacht had stayed aloof; emigration had been handled solely by the SS. He wondered if at last the army intended to participate. Certainly it would help; so far the SS had signally failed to round up sufficient numbers of genetically adequate human specimens.

Canaris, however, switched to another area of the topic; slippery and deft, he eluded even a direct question. "A point-by-point comparison between Abendsen's imaginary alternate world and the Nebenwelt should be developed. I would like to know exactly how they compare and differ." He gestured. "It may be what the Japanese call synchronicity, a meaningless coincidence. Or rather what our own physicist Wolfgang Pauli calls synchronicity; I forget that the acausal connective concept is of German origin." He scowled. "It is their use of that damn oracle that confuses me, that I Ching they employ in the making of every decision. Fortunately the party has rejected it as degenerate oriental mysticism."

"The oracle," Kohler said, "exists in the Nebenwelt; we encountered it several times, although there is -- we found -- no widespread use. It does not appear at all in Abendsen's book, in the world he depicts."

"Another difference," Canaris said thoughtfully. He seemed for a time to chew on this point. "If we were to believe in the oracle," he said at last, "then we would suppose it to know of the existence of the Nebenwelt, inasmuch [as] it can be found there. Abendsen, I have read, makes use of the oracle; I understand, in fact, he plotted his book by means of the hexagrams. That might account for the resemblance of his fictional world to the Nebenwelt. But consider the hazard involved -- the hazard to Germany. The oracle is attempting to inform those who rely on it that..." He broke off, again scowling. "I'm talking about it as if it were alive."

Goring said, "We did well to ban it in German-occupied territory. I remember how emphatic Dr. Goebbels was on that issue; he foamed at the mouth when that modern composer -- what was his name? -- declared in print that he used it to develop chord progressions."

"The Little Doktor foams at the mouth about everything he fails to understand," Canaris said.

"Who understands the oracle?" Goring asked. "Not even those who rely on it. Except for Pauli's theory of synchronicity there is no hypothesis for its operation at all. Except the ancient Chinese idea that invisible spirits determine which hexagram turns up." The subject bored him and he returned to the matter that had brought him here to Albany. "Sacher," he said briskly, "it is vital to Germany's internal and external security that the availability of the Nebenwelt be kept confidential. We can't throttle speculation because Abendsen's book has already raised the issue publicly; even in Germany most intellectuals are aware of its general outline, without, of course, having read it. Unfortunately it is not necessary to have read it; to know of its existence is enough. You understand what I mean." For the masses to speculate on another way of life, an existence minus German hegemony -- that breached the unconditional identification with the Gemeinschaft, the folk community created back in '32 by the party and now half a world wide. The writer Hawthorne Abendsen had, by his book, done great harm, and all the machinery of the secret police, the Sicherheitsdienst, had not managed to keep bootlegged copies of The Grasshopper from showing up in such central Gaus as Berlin itself. In Hamburg especially, knowledge of -- and possession of -- the book defied the state security apparatus, vigilant as it continued to be.

We should have Abendsen picked up, Goring pondered. Seized by an SD Einsatz Gruppe and brought in for expert interrogation. I will call Heydrich about that, he decided, as soon as I'm out of here. Surprising that the Reichsfuhrer SS has done nothing in that direction already.

Kohler said, "Shall I continue my description of the Nebenwelt, as well as explaining these artifactual documents?" He indicated the heap of items on his and Seligsohn's table.

"Do so," Goring said, and bent an ear to listen to the elaborate circumstantial report of another world, a mystifying universe in which the Axis had lost -- unbelievably -- the Second World War.

TWO

In the mirror-polished Daimler phaeton sedan the SS men who had met Captain Rudolf Wegener at Tempelhof Airfield chatted amiably as the car neared SS GHQ on Prinz-Albrechstrasse, where the crack Black Shirt division, Sepp Dietrich's Leibstandarte, had bivouacked itself with the expectation of successfully waiting out the great current crisis in domestic German affairs. Now Wegener could perceive the huge Tiger tanks of the division deployed strategically here and there, their 88mm cannons covering each intersection and building.

The show of military strength did not impress him. One tactical hydrogen bomb, lobbed by a Wehrmacht mortar, would erase the division of SS men and Heydrich himself. The Hangman, however, probably felt psychologically secure: The SS mentality thrived on the ostentatious display of finely executed, parade-style maneuvers such as these cordons of gleaming tanks.

When he had been escorted into Heydrich's big office he found the Reichsfuhrer SS on the telephone.

"We already sent someone to do that," Heydrich was saying in his harsh, monotonous voice as he stared blankly through Wegener. "He wound up killed in a hotel room in Denver. His throat. Yes, someone slashed it. Yes, he was very close to reaching the Jew Abendsen." A pause. "No, he wasn't going to bring him here; why do that? What's he got to say besides what he said in his book?" Another pause, longer this time. "If you want him brought here," Heydrich said finally, "you'll have to tell me why. We're not an adjunct to the Luftwaffe. Okay, send someone yourself. Bomb him. Good-bye." Heydrich hung up, jotted a note on a pad of paper, then inclined his head to indicate a leather-covered chair placed before his desk. "The Reichsmarshal," he explained to Wegener, "all four hundred kilos of him. Sit down. You're the Abwehr man who's been in the Pacific States of America." He spread out fanwise a collection of folios, rummaged, and at last selected one, which he opened. "I've been reading about you. Did you enjoy the way the Japs run things? Slipshod, wouldn't you say? Of course, things aren't much better here, what with that nasty little crippled gutter rat Goebbels sneaking in as chancellor -- temporarily. He'd kill us all in our beds while we slept. That's why I had you met at the airport."

"I appreciated it," Wegener said woodenly.

"In our opinion," Heydrich rattled away, "Bormann was murdered. So in no regard is Goebbels legal chancellor. Several SS lawyers have drawn up briefs for me to that effect. An election will have to be held, with all party members voting. The new leader of Germany must come from the party ranks, as Hitler originally intended. Goebbels, even if legally appointed, is too old -- as are all the Altparteigenosse. I, of course, do not fit in that category."

"Not in the slightest," Wegener agreed.

"Did you make much headway as to informing the Japs about Operation Dandelion? Was General Tedeki interested?"

"I -- know nothing about it," Wegener said.

"But you went there to inform the Japanese that we are on the verge of attacking them." Irritably, Heydrich said in a sharp voice, as if speaking to a foreigner, "Operation Dandelion -- the attack on Japan. Your mission; you posed as a Swedish businessman." He leafed through the dossier. "You left Tempelhofer Field in one of those new Lufthanse 9-E rockets, under the name of Baynes. An SD agent talked with you en route; he gave the name Alex Lotze and pretended to be a painter; you pretended to be in plastics and polyesters. At the San Francisco airport you were met by a delegate from the ranking Jap Trade Mission, a Mr. Nobusuke Tagomi. A day later at his office in the Nippon Times Building the retired Chief of Staff of the Japanese Imperial Army, General Tedeki, met with the two of you and you informed him of the imminent attack on the home islands by the Wehrmacht -- a surprise attack that the Japanese secret police, the Tokkoka, had no knowledge of."

Wegener said, "This is all new to me, this information."

"Balls," Heydrich said impatiently. "In fact, during your conference with General Tedeki and Mr. Tagomi, a squad of SD men attempted to force their way in and kill the three of you." He added, "They failed."

After a pause Wegener said huskily, "Mr. Tagomi is a good shot. He collects pistols of the U.S. Civil War and practices firing them."

"We wondered what happened. Bruno Kreuz von Meere, who is the San Francisco head of the SD, theorized that it had been Kempeitai marksmen -- the Japanese civil police -- who had waited either outside or within Tagomi's office. Hmm; so Tagomi took care of Kreuz von Meere's men himself." He nodded, apparently glad to see the mystery cleared up. "So you betrayed your country. Is the entire Abwehr involved, or was it only you? What about Admiral Canaris himself?"

"He knows nothing about my trip," Wegener said, wondering if Heydrich had in his possession information to the contrary. The Reichsfuhrer SS seemed to know everything else; why not this?

Heydrich, however, dropped the point; he turned to another topic. "In the Pacific States, did you encounter that Jew book in which our war effort fails? That Grasshopper book?"

"It's available there," Wegener said abstractly.

"You heard me talking to the Reichsmarshal; they want me to snatch Abendsen and bring him here, for reasons they won't divulge." Heydrich eyed Wegener intently. "We understand that a joint project exists in Albany, New York, in which your organization and the Luftwaffe are involved. Do you personally know anything about that?"

"No," he said, truthfully.

"As far as we can determine," Heydrich said, "this project is operating under the assumption that paralled worlds exist, of which we are one and Abendsen's world, written about as if imaginary fiction, is another. What success Sacher -- he heads the project -- has obtained we don't know. Perhaps none. The premise may be false. Or" -- Heydrich gestured -- "enough success to prove the premise, but not enough to open actually a doorway to another parallel world." He ticked the possibilities off methodically, using his fingers. "Or they have found a passageway through, but the other world -- the Nebenwelt, I understand they call it -- is not that which the Jew Abendsen depicts in his pseudo-fictional book. There are other possibilities." He reflected. "At most they have been able to reach several other worlds, of which Abendsen's is one."

"Hmm," Wegener said.

"What interests is that all at once the Reichsmarshal is interested in having Abendsen -- not killed -- but abducted and brought here; brought, specifically, to the Reichsmarshal's pro tern headquarters at the Luftwaffe base in Miami." Heydrich studied his extended fingers, then selected one. "This suggests that they wish to interrogate Abendsen regarding his Grasshopper world... which further suggests to me that they have had some luck." He raised his eyes, regarded Wegener acutely. "Are you sure you know nothing about this? You're an Abwehr agent, and the Abwehr, we hear, is supplying the agents that Sacher means to -- or has already, perhaps -- "

"All my recent time," Wegener broke in, "has been spent in preparation for my visit to the PSA, now completed. There's no use talking to me; I can't help you. Up to now I haven't even heard of this project, presuming, as you say, it exists." It sounded doubtful to him: more like an imaginative fabrication by the brilliant, deranged minds of the higher SS, Heydrich included.

"Consider this, then," Heydrich said, folding his hands and tilting his chair back until he rested against the wall behind his desk. "You are legally a traitor to Germany; you deliberately and systematically carried top-secret military information to our enemy, directly to the Japanese general staff. Without a convocation of the Reichsgericht I could have you garroted and hung from a meathook. I could have your testicles crushed first, by means of pliers. I could have a solution of lye forced up your -- "

"Your agency," Wegener said, managing to keep his voice reasonably steady, "can do nothing to an agent of Naval Counterintelligence. If I have to stand trial it will be a military court-martial, presided over by my superiors in the Abwehr."

"You want to bet?"

Wegener said, "I know for a certainty that your agency, in fact the entire SS, opposes Operation Dandelion. By your own statement you had me followed; you knew what I came for before I managed to meet with General Tedeki; you could have stopped me."

"We attempted to," Heydrich said smoothly. "At the Nippon Times Building."

"What's your point?"

Heydrich said, "You are, at this moment, at the dead center of the Waffen-SS division Leibstandarte. There is no way anyone, from the Abwehr or the Wehrmacht or the party or all three, could get you out of here. So if you transact any business it must be with me, and I am hard to do business with, which you may have heard. In this dossier on you" -- he indicated the papers spread out on his desk -- "details and documentation of your treason are laid out. Right now it is a very much open file, but I have the authority, despite all it contains, to make it perpetually inactive. No SD men will show up at 5:00 A.M. and cart you off to a final solution camp; no Nacht und Nebel [Night and Fog] action will ever take place in your direction -- I guarantee it. In fact, I will make you an honorary colonel in the Waffen-SS; General Dietrich himself will bestow the citation on you." Heydrich picked up a phone receiver from his desk and said, "Get me Sepp Dietrich."

"I'm familiar with the mechanism," Wegener said. "I'm not interested." As soon as he became an honorary colonel in the SS he would be automatically under SS jurisdiction, taking his orders from Heydrich or even someone lower down in Heydrich's apparatus. Over the years innumerable Wehrmacht officers had received such commissions, without being aware of the consequences. Instant SS men, he thought grimly. Created by a stroke of Heydrich's pen.

Shrugging, Heydrich said, hanging up the phone, "It's up to you if you want to remain a captain in an organization that probably won't exist one year from now. Admiral Canaris has been skating over thin ice for years; it's only a question of time before he falls through... dragging the rest of you down with him."

"What is it you want me to do?" Wegener asked. "In exchange for letting me out of here?"

"Not merely 'letting you out.' In addition, as I explained, we'll guarantee your continual safety -- from reprisals, for example, by your organization. To be protected by the SD is to be virtually beyond reach; you'll find yourself sleeping at night again, peacefully, and in these times of unpredictable political conflict that will be anomalous. I want you to do this: You will report back to your superiors in the Abwehr and give a report of your mission to San Francisco without mentioning your side trip here. You landed at Tempelhofer; you took a cab to Abwehr GHQ. All uneventful."

"And from then on," Wegener said, "I'm to report regularly to you or one of your subordinates about Sacher's project."

Heydrich eyed him.

"I may never get near Sacher's project," Wegener said.

"You'll hear talk. We have heard talk, and we have yet to penetrate Canaris' organization... until perhaps now. I'm not in a hurry; I agree that it will take time. Just so long as the information comes to us eventually. Verstehst du?"

"I understand you," Wegener said. He pondered, then decided to take a calculated risk. "You won't kill me," he said, "because it's to your advantage that I informed General Tedeki about Operation Dandelion. You'll make use of this as ammunition to persuade the party not to back the Wehrmacht; a surprise attack is now out of the question, and we all know that even though the Japanese lack the hydrogen bomb, they do have enormous intercept hardware. Even if the home islands are destroyed, their Chinese regions, their Manchukuo colony, the Philippines, the Pacific States of America, their holdings in Latin America -- "

"I am familiar with the geography of the East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere," Heydrich said drily.

"Plus the fact," Wegener said, "that the guidance systems of our missiles are imperfect -- notoriously so. For example, we are familiar with our missile performance in Africa. Several years -- "

"The guidance systems have been improved since then."

Wegener said, "You'll require my continued existence because I'm the only German national who knows from direct contact that the Japanese general staff is aware of Operation Dandelion. Without me, all that exists is your dossier on me, which could be faked. Or so the Wehrmacht generals will argue. In particular, Rommel."

"The field marshal is in retirement." Heydrich added, "And old."

"It is planned to restore him into service." The Abwehr had learned this several months ago. "He will, in fact, be made the highest military commander in the operation; as is well known, his unique strategic sense has not since been equaled. And his presence will make the campaign considerably more popular with the people, who regard him an Ubermensch. The only hero of modern times; one would have to go back to Hindenburg."

"Or Adolf Hitler."

"Hitler's legendary reputation as a strategist has dimmed. The Wehrmacht knew his failings at the time; most of the German people know them now. As I'm sure you realize. You do keep tabs on such matters."

"It was the peresis of the brain," Heydrich said hotly. "If the UrFuhrer had not contracted that disease during his youthful days in Vienna, that Jew town -- "

Rising to his feet, Wegener said, "This discussion, as far as I am concerned, is over. I am required to report back to my superiors as to my accomplishments. Guten Tag."

Also standing, the Reichsfuhrer SS started to speak. But then the intercom system on his desk buzzed. "Yes?" he said, depressing a key.

"General Skorzany to see you, sir," the intercom said.

"All right. Send him in." Heydrich folded his arms, rocked back and forth on his heels, reflecting.

A burly, gray-haired man, reasonably good-looking, with wary, intelligent eyes, wearing the uniform of a Waffen-SS general, entered Heydrich's office. He glanced at Wegener, sizing him up, then turned inquiringly to the Reichsfiihrer SS.

To Wegener, Heydrich said, "Turn my suggestions over in your mind. For a time I will suspend any action vis-a-vis your activities recently in the Pacific States. I'll be in touch with you before the end of the week and I hope a favorable decision will occur to you. Keep it in mind that your position is not good."