The Cairo Code

The Cairo Code by Glenn Meade

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Authors: Glenn Meade
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that Roosevelt and Churchill were meeting in Casablanca. He radioed the date, time, and place to Berlin. But because the agent was a Spaniard, some idiot in the Abwehr translated Casablanca literally, and reported to his superiors that the Allied leaders were planning a meeting, not in North Africa, but in the White House in Washington.
    Canaris blushed at the threat as he put down the letter. “It seems I have little choice. Which of my people had you got in mind?”
    â€œFirst, I’ll have need of one of your Egyptian agents. Preferably someone living in a remote desert location, not more than a couple of days’ travel from Cairo. Someone entirely trustworthy.”
    Canaris shrugged. “I can think of one or two who might be suitable. But go on.”
    â€œSecond, I thought Jack Halder would be perfect to lead the initial team we send in to set everything up. He’s one of your best men, knows his way around Cairo, speaks Arabic, and is capable enough to see the whole thing through. He’s also American by birth and can speak English with a flawless American or British accent, thanks to his time at Oxford. All of which may be useful when it comes time to get access to Roosevelt’s quarters.”
    Canaris’s face darkened. “So that’s why his file was requested yesterday by the Reichsführer’s office? I thought it had to do with that business in Sicily, months back.”
    Schellenberg smiled. “You must admit Halder has an impressive reputation. It’s almost part of military legend how he managed to infiltrate Allied lines while serving in North Africa. A month in Cairo and Alexandria, in the guise of a British officer, gathering intelligence under the very noses of the enemy? Quite a remarkable feat, I would have thought.”
    â€œHe’s certainly one of my best, but you’re wasting your time.” Canaris shook his head. “If you’ve read his file you’ll know he’s lost his edge after all that unpleasant business with his father and son. He doesn’t seem to have the interest anymore, and spends most of his time out at a summer cottage his father owned, overlooking the lakeshore at Wannsee. I visited him there last month and he didn’t look happy.”
    Schellenberg said grimly, “Yes, all rather tragic, what happened. But what if I could convince him otherwise?”
    â€œIt’s still a suicide trap, Walter. You’d be sending him to certain death.”
    â€œI assure you the plan can succeed,” Schellenberg said firmly. “And those who survive the operation will return safely. Furthermore, I think you’ll agree when you’re briefed on the details in full.”
    Canaris knew there was little point in arguing. He shrugged wearily in defeat. “Knowing Halder, I suppose there’s a slim chance it could work.”
    Schellenberg gave a wintry smile. “It’s got to. Otherwise Himmler assures me the Führer will have our heads.”
    â€œBut a week is no time at all to set up a mission like this.”
    â€œWhich is why things will have to proceed at a very rapid pace from here on. There’s absolutely no time to lose.”

7
----
BERLIN
    It was just after eleven that same morning when Schellenberg’ s Mercedes pulled up outside the secluded lakeshore cottage at Wannsee, ten kilometers west of Berlin. The sleepy village on the edge of the Grunewald was a favorite among senior German military officers, many of whom kept magnificent summer homes there. The rainclouds had gone and it was glorious for November, with clear skies and bright autumn sunshine.
    The single-story, white-painted wooden cottage looked out onto a perfect view of the lake. It had a picket fence and a small veranda, and Schellenberg smiled when he noticed a woman’s bicycle propped against the fence. He went up the steps, carrying a leather briefcase and his officer’s silver-topped riding

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