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  “Your first appointment is with the foreign minister,” Emilio said.

  “Is he here already?”

  “Yes, Signore.”

  “Let us not keep him waiting, then.”

  “Very well, Signore.”

  Roberto Conti had been a close friend of Ciano’s from their days serving in Italy’s diplomatic corps. After the king had confirmed Ciano as the new leader of Italy, he had immediately appointed Conti as the new foreign minister. Not only had they partied together, but shared a similar political philosophy.

  Conti marched into the office with a broad smile on his face. He performed a deep bow.

  “An honor to be seen by my most gracious leader!”

  “Oh, come off it, Roberto. I put on my pants the same way you do,” Ciano replied dryly.

  “You mean after climbing out of the bed of your latest conquests?”

  Ciano laughed. “Come now, my friend, we are now mature adults. We have left such events in our past.”

  “Our recent past.”

  “Si, si,” Ciano waved an arm. “Have a seat. You are my first appointment of the day, and if I let you get out of control, the rest of the day will be wasted.”

  Conti chuckled as he slipped into the chair across from the massive desk. “True, we must be much more discreet than before.”

  “I am the essence of purity,” Ciano pointed to himself with a flourish.

  “Right. So, you are up to date on the coup in Iraq?”

  “Somewhat,” Ciano replied. “What can you tell me?”

  “It appears the English were not directly involved. They still have some influence, but this was mainly led by pro-English elements in the country.”

  “And it brought Herr Schloss’s project to a complete halt, correct.”

  Conti nodded. “And some of our people have investments in the oil operations, there. We were counting on some of that oil, Galeazzo.”

  “What are the Germans doing about it?” Ciano asked.

  “Their foreign office is viewing with concern. After Ribbentrop made such a big deal about not interfering in the affairs of other countries, he cannot do much without looking like a fool or a liar, or both.”

  “And historically, Ribbentrop has been both.”

  Conti rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “Ribbentrop grovels for whoever signs his paycheck. He has no known principles above his belt.”

  “That might be a bit excessive. He was loyal to Hitler.”

  “And he also told Hitler whatever he thought the man wanted to hear.”

  Ciano slid down slightly in his chair. “I assume Schloss understands the tools he has to work with. One thing is sure, Schloss is nobody’s fool.”

  “And what should be our attitude towards the Germans? Have you given thought to a new strategy?”

  The presidente steepled his fingers as he thought about the question. “Our ability to keep our positions depends upon keeping Italy stable and prosperous and keeping the people happy. Papa Benito was not happy with the direction the Germans were taking. He feared a war with the United States and Russia. As long as Schloss pursues his goals of bringing the English to the table, and avoiding a wider war, I think we should continue to support him.”

  “I sense a caveat there,” Conti commented.

  “Oh, there certainly is. While I am appreciative of what Schloss is doing, I will not lick the boots of those Nazi swine.” He pointed his index finger down and tapped it on the desk. “My job here is to put Italy first. I wake up in the morning thinking about that, and it is the last thing on my mind when I retire for the evening.”

  “Other than the current bed-warmer, of course.”

  “I am serious, Roberto,” Ciano spoke sharply. “The job of every member of this government is to spend each day working to advance the fortunes of Italy.”

  “And things are going reasonably well,” Conti shot back. “I am very pleased with things, and so you should be also.”

  “And we must always remember how quickly and how badly things could turn. If Rommel had not stopped Montgomery, he would have eventually been marching up the boot of Italy. The English know they cannot succeed in a frontal attack across the channel. If they managed to put three or four divisions on our soil, do you honestly think we could stop them?”

  “Eh, probably not. Fortunately, we do not face that right now.”

  “Indeed. And, I believe we need to follow Schloss’s lead and cultivate better relations with the United States.”

  “Ambassador Phillips has been cool towards us, to this point,” Conti pointed out.

  “That is mostly the result of our Ethiopian adventure. I want you to start working towards improving things with them. Try to find out if there are any particular thorns we have stuck in their side, and we can expeditiously pull.”

  Conti grinned. “Your turn of phrase is interesting, as usual.”

  “Yes, well, if you need me to charm the American ambassador, I am happy to assist. Our commerce with the United States is picking up again, and I would like to develop that.”

  “Very well, Presidente.”

  Ciano put his hands on the arms of his chair and pushed himself to his feet.

  “I would like you to stay so we could reminisce about old times, Roberto, but I am very busy.”

  “I understand. I apologize if I wasted your time this morning.”

  Ciano waved an arm. “I do not consider you to have wasted my time. Thank you for coming by.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  July 24, 1942; 10 AM

  The Prime Minister’s Office

  Tokyo, Japan

  “I fear we resemble the man who caught a tiger by the tail, and thus having captured the beast, he asked, What do we do now?”

  Prime Minister Hideki Tojo looked over at Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto. “So, you are honestly still peddling your defeatist views, Admiral?”

  “We have had an exceptionally good war to date, Prime Minister,” Yamamoto replied. “But we have now extended ourselves to our limits. Our armies are tied down in China. We have had to garrison several dozen islands from Guam to New Caledonia. The pacification of Australia has not gone well. The navy now must guard a quarter of the globe. Our enemies can gain supremacy over us at the place and time of their choosing. We no longer have a strategic reserve, so we cannot reinforce even areas where we know there will be an attack.”

  “And I was having a very good day before this meeting, Admiral,” Tojo said.

  “I would dishonor myself and the nation by giving you anything other than my honest evaluation of our strategic situation.”

  “We have conquered a quarter of the world, and you claim we have lost the war.”

  “I am only saying we have not won it,” the Admiral said. “We have accomplished all of the objectives of the war plan. If we do not have a plan to consolidate these victories, we will be in trouble.”

  “What would you suggest then, Admiral?” Tojo asked coolly.

  “We should consolidate our holdings in China. Pull back to areas that we know are definitely under our control. We can free up one-hundred-thousand troops for Australia. We should convert the Yamato and Musashi to aircraft carriers. We need to continue with our naval building program. We need to develop a new generation of fighter aircraft. And, although I know this is controversial, we need to formally develop a central military command to stop this bickering between the army and navy.”

  “Very well, Admiral,” Tojo replied. “Thank you for sharing your views on these subjects.”

  And he stood up, indicating that the meeting was at a close. Yamamoto, however, gave no indication of leaving the prime minister’s office. He appeared to be very comfortable in his chair.

  “Was there something else, Admiral?”

  “The Americans will have four new carriers in commission by the end of the year,” he stated simply.

  “And that would merely replace what they lost in Hawaii,” Tojo responded.

 
; “And what about the carriers we lost in the Battle of Panama?” Yamamoto responded.

  “We will be able to replace those within the next year.”

  “And the Americans will have twelve new carriers in 1944. This is new build. We believe they are also converting merchant hulls to carriers.”

  “And what is your point?” Tojo snapped.

  “When the Americans come across the ocean, it will be with a fleet that will annihilate ours. They will start marching up the islands we have taken, and then begin bombing the homeland with a fleet of bombers.”

  “We can deal with a few bombers, certainly,” Tojo said.

  “The Americans recently ceased building their Flying Fortress because it lacked the range for a Pacific war. This was after they built five-hundred of them. Do you not think they would build thousands of a new bomber that could reach our cities?”

  “Surely you talk nonsense, Admiral. Nobody could afford to build that many aircraft.”

  “Prime Minister, the consequences of underestimating the Americans would be deadly for our people.”

  “We have the warrior spirit!” Tojo shouted. “We will defeat that decadent white race. They have not been able to stand before us, nor shall they do so in the future.”

  “Do they know that?” the admiral asked quietly.

  Tojo snorted. “Does it matter?”

  “Have we sent messages to them asking them to surrender?”

  Tojo gave the admiral a very old-fashioned look. “With each statement, Admiral, you look more foolish. You have honored us with the victories you achieved. But, you might consider when the best time might be to leave the game. Perhaps a quiet retirement would give you an opportunity to contemplate the greatness of our nation.”

  “Are you demanding my resignation, Sir?” Yamamoto asked.

  “Of course not,” Tojo sniffed. “I simply laid out one of a number of options for you. Now, are we done, here?”

  Yamamoto rose to his feet. “Thank you for your time, Prime Minister.”

  The two men gave each other very correct bows, and the admiral quietly left the office.

  In the car, as they returned to the naval offices, Yamamoto’s adjutant, Captain Chihiro, looked over at him.

  “You are very quiet, Sir. Did the meeting not go as you expected?”

  “The meeting went as I expected it would,” Yamamoto said heavily. “It did not go as I desired.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Duty lies heavy upon me, Chihiro. It is not something I can abandon. We will continue to train the fleet and study our tactics. Perhaps the Americans will flinch when they perceive the cost of their ultimate victory.”

  “You do not believe we can win the war?”

  Yamamoto smiled sadly at the young captain. “Do you?”

  § § §

  July 27, 1942; 9 AM

  Reich Chancellor’s Office

  Reich Chancellery

  Berlin, Germany

  “So, you are saying Ribbentrop either didn’t know about the plot against the Iraqi government, or he ignored the warnings?” Schloss asked.

  “That is what I am saying,” Karl Rainer replied.

  “So, which was it?”

  “I believe the warnings were sufficiently oblique that he didn’t recognize it for what it was.”

  Schloss stood up and began pacing the office. “We really did not need a setback like this, Karl. Tell me about the warning.”

  “Fritz Grobba, as you know, has spent years in the region as the German consul, and knows the people well. We think he became aware of it but allowed his hatred of Ribbentrop to color his actions.”

  “Do we know this for a fact?”

  Rainer shrugged. “I don’t know. The foreign ministry’s two primary Middle East experts hate each other, and have diametrically opposed views on how we should proceed.”

  Am I supposed to know about this? Schloss asked himself. Have I taken sides? Who is the other Middle East expert? I ought to know this, but it escapes me.

  “How has Ribbentrop handled this in the past?” Maybe I can pull enough information out of Karl to fill in the blanks for me.

  “He has kept the two of them apart, mostly. Hentig is working in our consulate in Palestine. Grobba, of course, has been in Baghdad.”

  “Which has been the most reliable?” Schloss asked.

  “Grobba has been a reliable Nazi. Hentig has worked in the past to get the Jews out of Germany to Palestine.”

  Okay, Karl is being very careful about what he tells me. But, it still doesn’t really help.

  “Have you given thought to my idea of making Ribbentrop the Minister of Commerce?”

  “I think it is a very good idea, but leaves open a big question,” Rainer replied.

  “Like, who will be the new Foreign Minister?”

  “Precisely.”

  “I had thought about pulling Hoyningen-Huene in from Lisbon for the position.”

  “I think he would do a good job for us,” Rainer said. “There is a question as to whether he would want to return from Lisbon or not, and who would replace him there?”

  “It looks like a lot of bad alternatives,” Schloss grumped. “Ribbentrop did a great job of negotiating the deal with Iraq. However, his lack of attention to other things is really hurting us. I need him out of the Foreign Office.”

  “I don’t understand why you don’t put Peter in there? He’s the best diplomat we have.”

  “Then I have to find another minister of propaganda. Unfortunately, Peter is also very good at that job.”

  “Could Peter handle both?”

  Schloss grinned at Rainer. “Peter would not thank me. Renate would not thank me.”

  “But, you cannot take on all the burdens yourself, Herr Schloss.”

  Schloss walked back behind his desk and dropped into the chair. “How about a change of subject? Tell me about the Abwehr.”

  Rainer nodded, accepting the change. “The changes went better than I feared they would. Gehlen is well known in the military intelligence circles. He may not be the best manager we could select, but he is trusted.”

  “No challenges to his authority?”

  “None that were apparent. He did retain much of Canaris’ staff, at least those not poisoned by that serpent Morell. Canaris’ staff was at least efficient.”

  “Whatever we might say about his field agents.”

  Rainer grunted in response. “And that is a problem I will have to deal with at some point.”

  Schloss raised an eyebrow. “Have you been successful in setting up your foreign networks?”

  “It’s a bit early to declare victory, Herr Schloss,” he said. “I have a dozen people in England that are showing promise.”

  “And you are wondering whether to turn them over to Gehlen,” Schloss stated.

  “Well, yes.”

  “Then don’t,” Schloss ordered. “As I understand it, Gehlen’s strength is to the East. If he can set up an English network, that’s fine, but don’t let it comingle with yours.”

  “I understand,” Rainer replied. “I recognize my limits, though, Herr Schloss. I am really a policeman. A spymaster requires a different mindset.”

  “I wouldn’t disagree with that assessment, Karl, but these are troubled times. I like having the insurance policy. If one network or the other is compromised, we have some chance of finding out about it. You have done well so far. In fact, if I haven’t said it before, I couldn’t have succeeded so far without your help.”

  Rainer blushed slightly. “I was just doing my job, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  “And you do it very well. Thank you.” Schloss cleared his throat. “Any further thoughts about Ribbentrop?”

  “May I suggest the Reich Chancellor has rarely taken this long to make a decision?”

  Schloss glanced up at the ceiling. “I hesitate because the current arrangement is working. When you start to tinker with machinery, you can sometimes make things worse.”

/>   “Peter is really functioning as the foreign minister, anyway,” Rainer commented. “Why not make it official?”

  “Why indeed? The only downside I can think of is that it puts a lot on Peter’s plate.”

  “As we have mentioned before, Herr Schloss. Peter is fine with the decision. Goering acquiesced. Ribbentrop will do whatever you tell him to do. Make the decision.”

  Schloss laughed. “I think we both need to go to our next meetings.”

  “In other words, you are not going to make the decision today?” Rainer asked.

  Schloss raised both hands, palms up. “What is it you want, Karl?”

  “I would like this settled.”

  “Patience, my friend. I do not like to make decisions that make me uncomfortable. And this makes me uncomfortable.”

  “Fine.”

  “Do I detect a hint of exasperation, Herr Rainer?”

  “Of course not.”

  Schloss stood up. “Thanks for coming by, Karl.”

  Rainer shook his head as he stood. “As always, Herr Reich Chancellor, this was an interesting meeting.”

  Schloss laughed again.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  August 1, 1942; 6 AM

  USS Hessian

  The southern Philippine Sea

  Lieutenant Commander Alan Carper carefully scanned the sky around the former German U-Boat as the sun poked above the horizon. Satisfied that there were no threats, he called to the watch officer, “Make preparations to dive.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir,” came the immediate reply.

  “Prepare to dive,” the watch-stander called into the speaking tube.

  The background rumble of the boat subsided as the diesels rolled to a stop. Carper listened for the sharp clunk as the exhaust vents slammed shut. Traveling beneath the surface of the ocean in a submarine did not bother him. However, he had nightmares about submerging a boat with the exhaust trunks open. A flooded engine room invariably resulted in a one-way trip to the bottom.

  It was the watch-standers job to make sure the conning tower was cleared, and the topside was ready for diving. As such, he was the last man on the bridge. Carper eased past him and slid down the ladder into the control room. After stepping away from the ladder, he moved over to where the Executive Officer stood.