* * * * * * * * * *
MEMENTO VIVERE
- Tertius -
Libera Eas De Ore Leonis
"Herr General?" The secretary, long used to his boss's customs, knocked quite loudly on the heavy door to give him time to wake up and sit straight. The gruff voice that answered from the other side had a distinct slur that spoke of a heavier than usual sleep. The secretary opened the door.
"What is it, Heinrich?"
"Colonel von Kessler to see you, sir."
"Von Kessler? What's that young upstart doing here?"
"He has an appointment, sir."
"He has? Well, in that case, make him wait five minutes and then show him in, the arrogant peacock. No respect for his elders at all. Do you show respect for your elders, Heinrich?"
"I believe so, sir." Heinrich, who was fifty-five and twelve years the General's junior, did not smile. He was a very experienced secretary and knew exactly what he could or could not say in the presence of his boss, who had no sense of humor, no patience, no imagination to speak of, and very little understanding of things not directly related to the military. In Heinrich's opinion, the fact that the General's wife bore him two children was more a miracle than anything in the way of a natural process.
"Be sure that you do. Very important thing, respect."
"Yes, sir." Heinrich closed the door softly behind him; the General sat on his chair as straight as his prodigious girth would allow and composed his features in a foreboding expression.
General Weigand had been appointed Chief of the Prussian Intelligence Service more out of desperation than any other reason: there was no one else. Prussia had recognized the necessity of keeping up with the French, English and Italian more sophisticated networks of agents and informants, and it had succeeded, at least as far as organization and discipline were concerned. But they were sadly lacking in everything else. The General could not grasp the importance of codes, moles, counterintelligence, and all the other subtle and often sinister tools of the trade. His approach to secrecy was not to wear a uniform. His understanding of politics was, at the best, faulty; and his cunning did not go beyond calling his agents "cousin" in his telegrams.
This, however, had worked quite well for the last few years, when everything that had been required of him had been capturing and shooting foreign spies. But now the game was getting more and more complicated, with new players, double and triple agents, political moves, and poisoned sources of information. The General couldn't make sense of most of the new reports that appeared daily on his desk, even after they had been decoded by his staff, and he felt that his job was slipping away from him. But he had almost fifty years of experience in the military, and that meant that he knew very well how to hold to something and never let go, be it a saber hilt, a pistol, or his chair at the office.
And he was damned if he was going to let that young fop undermine his position at his time of life.
The young fop was shown in, and walked briskly to his boss's desk, saluted briskly, stood at a brisk attention, and offered a brisk and friendly smile that did not fool Weigand for a moment. Von Kessler had ascended through the ranks smiling all the way, and with the speed of a shark rising to attack a wounded seal. He was not very tall, but had the kind of vibrant energy that was usually found only in beehives and bonfires. He was always dressed in impeccable parade uniform, with the short cape worn at a jaunty angle over one shoulder, and the boots shining like polished ebony. All through the Service people liked and admired him, albeit from a safe distance; his plans had been unusually successful so far and he had been responsible for some of the best intelligence coups the Prussians had seen. Everybody took it for granted that he would replace, or indeed dethrone, Weigand. And quite soon.
The General watched him with open hostility. That was, however, how he watched everyone, so von Kessler simply stood there, his smile now thinner and more openly challenging, waiting for his superior to speak.
"Good afternoon, Colonel," Weigand grumbled.
"Good afternoon, General. I trust I find you well?" Von Kessler radiated goodwill and innocence. The General narrowed his eyes, which seemed to disappear into the folds of his flabby, bright red face. He grunted vaguely and held some papers as far as his arm would go, squinting mightily to read them.
"So. You made a sad mess of that affair with the two British agents last winter, and now you want us to help you clean up after you, eh?"
Von Kessler's smile froze. It was something that, when happened, put people in mind of the aforementioned sharks. And also of rabid dogs, cobras, and very annoyed tigers. The General, however, didn't notice. After a second, von Kessler recovered his geniality and laughed.
"Well, General, that's a peculiar way of putting it. As I recall, not only did we take care of the British attempt to hit our network, but we also got rid of one of their most troublesome agents. One that, if I may mention it, was responsible for two very costly failed missions."
"And yet the other agent slipped through your fingers as easy as kiss my hand. I expected you to get them both, Colonel. In fact, I was most disappointed when you didn't."
Von Kessler leaned over the table and spoke with an eagerness that took the General by surprise.
"That's why I intend to finish the job this week, General. My plan will free us from the British meddling in our affairs forever."
"Hrrrm. It seems rather far-fetched to me."
"Colonel, trust me: as of now I am certain that Phileas Fogg is on his way to Prussia in the fastest train that is available. And when he arrives, we will be waiting for him."
"You seem very sure, Colonel. Yet I remember you were equally sure of killing Erasmus =and= Phileas Fogg last winter."
"That's why it's so important for my plan to go ahead, General: so that the world is shown that Prussia does not leave loose ends and that we will pursue them as far as it takes. We are not people to be trifled with, and it is time that the British realize that. The new Head of the Secret Service is an incompetent bureaucrat: now it is the time to strike hard and fast. A couple of loud, public blunders, and British Intelligence will be completely off balance. After that, it will be only a matter of time."
"And you undertake to topple the whole British Secret Service, just by yourself?" said the General, skeptically, but with a hint of doubt. Von Kessler obviously unfeigned vehemence was quite disarming.
"Ah, General, how can I ever presume to do that? Doubtless the success will be attributed to your clever and firm leadership."
Irony was not one of the things that the General was good at detecting. But this was hard to miss; von Kessler's voice was dripping with barely concealed insolence. Weigand's brow furrowed and his voice thundered in the room.
"Take care, sir, take care. You show no respect at all for your elders, you are full of yourself, and one of these days you are going to find your Nemesis. As for your plan, I see no reason to stop it, seeing that you have overstepped your boundaries in such a disgraceful way. You have no discipline and no shame, sir. And the reason I am not arresting you right now is because I will be holding you directly responsible for your unavoidable failure, and then we'll see, sir, if you learn some respect. You may leave, now."
Von Kessler belonged to a rich and ancient Western Prussian family. He was not averse to fighting duels, and in fact had gotten rid of quite a few enemies that way. Now he turned very pale, but said nothing. He saluted and left, leaving the General with the uneasy impression that he had barely escaped with his life.
* * * * *
Outside the office, a tall young man wearing a sober black suit was waiting for the Colonel. Von Kessler gave him a brief smile and the two of them walked out of the building. It was some time before von Kessler spoke:
"The old walrus is washing his hands of the whole thing, as I predicted. We can go ahead with the rest of the plan, Kreutzmer."
"Yes, Colonel. But..."
"But?" Von Kessler watched him with a smile. Kreutzmer was a young agent, not very experienced, but already showing great promise. He spoke three languages fluently and had an uncanny ability to pass unnoticed: both extremely valuable traits in the kind of agent that von Kessler thought the Service needed in these new times.
"Well, isn't it too... Isn't it rushing things a bit, to allow Brideshaw to send the telegram before we can secure his house?"
"Relax, Wilhelm, you worry too much. Fogg will be here in two days: there is plenty of time. Have you been following Brideshaw closely?" The discovery of Brideshaw as an informant for the British had been an ace that von Kessler had kept up his sleeve long enough. Now he had the perfect excuse to play that ace, and he intended to do it without delay.
"Yes. He hasn't altered his routine in the slightest."
"So much the better. We don't want to make Fogg suspicious."
"But surely we could take care of Brideshaw now. Fogg will go directly to his house, and then we can get him too. There's no need to wait for them to actually meet."
"Kreutzmer, Kreutzmer, Kreutzmer. You have absolutely no sense of the dramatic. Both men, in the same coup, at the same time. An agent and a retired agent. No one will have time to fathom what is happening before the whole British network panics. And if the British cannot keep even their retired men out of danger, the active agents are going to grow very uneasy indeed. Always play with the fear of others, Kreutzmer. It is incredibly satisfying."
"Yes, Colonel." Kreutzmer swallowed. There was a certain glint in von Kessler's eye when he spoke with such bloodthirsty cheerfulness that unsettled Kreutzmer in the strangest way.
"You have to learn to enjoy this work, Kreutzmer," von Kessler was saying. "People like you and I pull the threads of this mighty puppet theater. We can topple nations, we can build empires. The Kaiser is about to rise to full power and we are going to be there, and he is going to acknowledge that he needs us. You'll see."
"Yes, sir. Are you certain, though, that Fogg is coming?"
"As certain as night follows day, Kreutzmer. Never fret. I have the perfect bait."
"Ah, yes. It was very fortunate, to find that corpse. Is it really Erasmus Fogg's body?"
Von Kessler smile widened and gave his whole face a completely engaging boyish charm.
"That, my friend," he said, "is the most wonderful part of the whole affair."
* * * * * * * * * *
End of Chapter Three
MEMENTO VIVERE
- Tertius -
Libera Eas De Ore Leonis
"Herr General?" The secretary, long used to his boss's customs, knocked quite loudly on the heavy door to give him time to wake up and sit straight. The gruff voice that answered from the other side had a distinct slur that spoke of a heavier than usual sleep. The secretary opened the door.
"What is it, Heinrich?"
"Colonel von Kessler to see you, sir."
"Von Kessler? What's that young upstart doing here?"
"He has an appointment, sir."
"He has? Well, in that case, make him wait five minutes and then show him in, the arrogant peacock. No respect for his elders at all. Do you show respect for your elders, Heinrich?"
"I believe so, sir." Heinrich, who was fifty-five and twelve years the General's junior, did not smile. He was a very experienced secretary and knew exactly what he could or could not say in the presence of his boss, who had no sense of humor, no patience, no imagination to speak of, and very little understanding of things not directly related to the military. In Heinrich's opinion, the fact that the General's wife bore him two children was more a miracle than anything in the way of a natural process.
"Be sure that you do. Very important thing, respect."
"Yes, sir." Heinrich closed the door softly behind him; the General sat on his chair as straight as his prodigious girth would allow and composed his features in a foreboding expression.
General Weigand had been appointed Chief of the Prussian Intelligence Service more out of desperation than any other reason: there was no one else. Prussia had recognized the necessity of keeping up with the French, English and Italian more sophisticated networks of agents and informants, and it had succeeded, at least as far as organization and discipline were concerned. But they were sadly lacking in everything else. The General could not grasp the importance of codes, moles, counterintelligence, and all the other subtle and often sinister tools of the trade. His approach to secrecy was not to wear a uniform. His understanding of politics was, at the best, faulty; and his cunning did not go beyond calling his agents "cousin" in his telegrams.
This, however, had worked quite well for the last few years, when everything that had been required of him had been capturing and shooting foreign spies. But now the game was getting more and more complicated, with new players, double and triple agents, political moves, and poisoned sources of information. The General couldn't make sense of most of the new reports that appeared daily on his desk, even after they had been decoded by his staff, and he felt that his job was slipping away from him. But he had almost fifty years of experience in the military, and that meant that he knew very well how to hold to something and never let go, be it a saber hilt, a pistol, or his chair at the office.
And he was damned if he was going to let that young fop undermine his position at his time of life.
The young fop was shown in, and walked briskly to his boss's desk, saluted briskly, stood at a brisk attention, and offered a brisk and friendly smile that did not fool Weigand for a moment. Von Kessler had ascended through the ranks smiling all the way, and with the speed of a shark rising to attack a wounded seal. He was not very tall, but had the kind of vibrant energy that was usually found only in beehives and bonfires. He was always dressed in impeccable parade uniform, with the short cape worn at a jaunty angle over one shoulder, and the boots shining like polished ebony. All through the Service people liked and admired him, albeit from a safe distance; his plans had been unusually successful so far and he had been responsible for some of the best intelligence coups the Prussians had seen. Everybody took it for granted that he would replace, or indeed dethrone, Weigand. And quite soon.
The General watched him with open hostility. That was, however, how he watched everyone, so von Kessler simply stood there, his smile now thinner and more openly challenging, waiting for his superior to speak.
"Good afternoon, Colonel," Weigand grumbled.
"Good afternoon, General. I trust I find you well?" Von Kessler radiated goodwill and innocence. The General narrowed his eyes, which seemed to disappear into the folds of his flabby, bright red face. He grunted vaguely and held some papers as far as his arm would go, squinting mightily to read them.
"So. You made a sad mess of that affair with the two British agents last winter, and now you want us to help you clean up after you, eh?"
Von Kessler's smile froze. It was something that, when happened, put people in mind of the aforementioned sharks. And also of rabid dogs, cobras, and very annoyed tigers. The General, however, didn't notice. After a second, von Kessler recovered his geniality and laughed.
"Well, General, that's a peculiar way of putting it. As I recall, not only did we take care of the British attempt to hit our network, but we also got rid of one of their most troublesome agents. One that, if I may mention it, was responsible for two very costly failed missions."
"And yet the other agent slipped through your fingers as easy as kiss my hand. I expected you to get them both, Colonel. In fact, I was most disappointed when you didn't."
Von Kessler leaned over the table and spoke with an eagerness that took the General by surprise.
"That's why I intend to finish the job this week, General. My plan will free us from the British meddling in our affairs forever."
"Hrrrm. It seems rather far-fetched to me."
"Colonel, trust me: as of now I am certain that Phileas Fogg is on his way to Prussia in the fastest train that is available. And when he arrives, we will be waiting for him."
"You seem very sure, Colonel. Yet I remember you were equally sure of killing Erasmus =and= Phileas Fogg last winter."
"That's why it's so important for my plan to go ahead, General: so that the world is shown that Prussia does not leave loose ends and that we will pursue them as far as it takes. We are not people to be trifled with, and it is time that the British realize that. The new Head of the Secret Service is an incompetent bureaucrat: now it is the time to strike hard and fast. A couple of loud, public blunders, and British Intelligence will be completely off balance. After that, it will be only a matter of time."
"And you undertake to topple the whole British Secret Service, just by yourself?" said the General, skeptically, but with a hint of doubt. Von Kessler obviously unfeigned vehemence was quite disarming.
"Ah, General, how can I ever presume to do that? Doubtless the success will be attributed to your clever and firm leadership."
Irony was not one of the things that the General was good at detecting. But this was hard to miss; von Kessler's voice was dripping with barely concealed insolence. Weigand's brow furrowed and his voice thundered in the room.
"Take care, sir, take care. You show no respect at all for your elders, you are full of yourself, and one of these days you are going to find your Nemesis. As for your plan, I see no reason to stop it, seeing that you have overstepped your boundaries in such a disgraceful way. You have no discipline and no shame, sir. And the reason I am not arresting you right now is because I will be holding you directly responsible for your unavoidable failure, and then we'll see, sir, if you learn some respect. You may leave, now."
Von Kessler belonged to a rich and ancient Western Prussian family. He was not averse to fighting duels, and in fact had gotten rid of quite a few enemies that way. Now he turned very pale, but said nothing. He saluted and left, leaving the General with the uneasy impression that he had barely escaped with his life.
* * * * *
Outside the office, a tall young man wearing a sober black suit was waiting for the Colonel. Von Kessler gave him a brief smile and the two of them walked out of the building. It was some time before von Kessler spoke:
"The old walrus is washing his hands of the whole thing, as I predicted. We can go ahead with the rest of the plan, Kreutzmer."
"Yes, Colonel. But..."
"But?" Von Kessler watched him with a smile. Kreutzmer was a young agent, not very experienced, but already showing great promise. He spoke three languages fluently and had an uncanny ability to pass unnoticed: both extremely valuable traits in the kind of agent that von Kessler thought the Service needed in these new times.
"Well, isn't it too... Isn't it rushing things a bit, to allow Brideshaw to send the telegram before we can secure his house?"
"Relax, Wilhelm, you worry too much. Fogg will be here in two days: there is plenty of time. Have you been following Brideshaw closely?" The discovery of Brideshaw as an informant for the British had been an ace that von Kessler had kept up his sleeve long enough. Now he had the perfect excuse to play that ace, and he intended to do it without delay.
"Yes. He hasn't altered his routine in the slightest."
"So much the better. We don't want to make Fogg suspicious."
"But surely we could take care of Brideshaw now. Fogg will go directly to his house, and then we can get him too. There's no need to wait for them to actually meet."
"Kreutzmer, Kreutzmer, Kreutzmer. You have absolutely no sense of the dramatic. Both men, in the same coup, at the same time. An agent and a retired agent. No one will have time to fathom what is happening before the whole British network panics. And if the British cannot keep even their retired men out of danger, the active agents are going to grow very uneasy indeed. Always play with the fear of others, Kreutzmer. It is incredibly satisfying."
"Yes, Colonel." Kreutzmer swallowed. There was a certain glint in von Kessler's eye when he spoke with such bloodthirsty cheerfulness that unsettled Kreutzmer in the strangest way.
"You have to learn to enjoy this work, Kreutzmer," von Kessler was saying. "People like you and I pull the threads of this mighty puppet theater. We can topple nations, we can build empires. The Kaiser is about to rise to full power and we are going to be there, and he is going to acknowledge that he needs us. You'll see."
"Yes, sir. Are you certain, though, that Fogg is coming?"
"As certain as night follows day, Kreutzmer. Never fret. I have the perfect bait."
"Ah, yes. It was very fortunate, to find that corpse. Is it really Erasmus Fogg's body?"
Von Kessler smile widened and gave his whole face a completely engaging boyish charm.
"That, my friend," he said, "is the most wonderful part of the whole affair."
* * * * * * * * * *
End of Chapter Three
