The Valhalla Exchange

‘Now you’re damn well talking,’ Canning said.

Hesser ignored him, leaned forward, moved a bishop. ‘Checkmate, I think.’

Madame Chevalier examined the board and sighed. ‘Seven moves you told me. You’ve done it in five.’

Max Hesser smiled. ‘My dear Madame, one must always try to be ahead of the game. The first rule of good soldiering.’

And in Berlin, just after midnight, Bormann still sat in his office, for the Führer himself worked through the night these days, seldom going to bed before 7 a.m., and Bormann liked to remain close. Close enough to keep others away.

There was a knock at the door and Rattenhuber entered, a sealed envelope in his hand. ‘For you, Reichsleiter.’

‘Who from, Willi?’

‘I don’t know, Reichsleiter. I found it on my desk marked Priority Seven.’

Which was a code reference for communications of the most secret sort, intended for Bormann’s eyes alone.

Bormann opened the envelope, then looked up, no expression in his eyes. ‘Willi, the Fieseler Storch in which Feldmarschall Greim and Hannah Reitsch flew in to Berlin has been destroyed. Get on to Gatow at once. Tell them they must send another plane by morning, one capable of flying directly out of the city.’

‘Very well, Reichsleiter.’

Bormann held up the envelope. ‘Know what’s in here, Willi? Some very interesting news. It would appear that our beloved Reichsführer, dear Uncle Heini, has offered to surrender to the British and Americans.’

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