{"product_id":"the-rhinemann-exchange-isbn-9780345539175","title":"The Rhinemann Exchange","description":"Autumn 1943. American agent David Spaulding is among the global espionage elite who have converged on Buenos Aires. His top-secret mission can bring World War II to an explosive end. But what happens in this city of assassins, betrayals, and sensual encounters is the most sinister and terrifying deal ever made between two nations. Intense, high-level covert negotiations will soon bear dangerous fruit with the aid of expatriate German industrialist Erich Rhinemann. But suddenly the game changes, and Spaulding is the man caught in the middle. Struggling furiously to save his sanity, the woman he loves, and his very life, Spaulding might be the only one who can rescue the world from a shattering fate.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003ePraise for Robert Ludlum and \u003ci\u003eThe Rhinemann Exchange\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A superb plot filled with exciting chases, double crosses, secret codes, and beautiful women . . . a picture of the beastliness underlying the espionage world, a world of brilliance without scruples, brutality without restraint.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eChicago Tribune\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “A breathtaking pace . . . The plot is extraordinary.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBestsellers\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A paragon in the field.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for Robert Ludlum and \u003ci\u003eThe Rhinemann Exchange\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A superb plot filled with exciting chases, double crosses, secret codes, and beautiful women . . . a picture of the beastliness underlying the espionage world, a world of brilliance without scruples, brutality without restraint.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eChicago Tribune\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “A breathtaking pace . . . The plot is extraordinary.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBestsellers\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A paragon in the field.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eRobert Ludlum\u003c\/b\u003e was the author of twenty-one novels, each a \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestseller. There are more than 210 million of his books in print, and they have been translated into thirty-two languages. In addition to the Jason Bourne series—\u003ci\u003eThe Bourne Identity, The Bourne Supremacy,\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eThe Bourne Ultimatum\u003c\/i\u003e—he was the author of\u003ci\u003e The Scarlatti Inheritance, The Chancellor Manuscript, \u003c\/i\u003eand\u003ci\u003e The Apocalypse Watch,\u003c\/i\u003e among many others. Mr. Ludlum passed away in March 2001.\u003cmeta http-equiv=\"Content-Type\" content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\"\u003e \u003cp class=\"\"\u003e1\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eSeptember 10, 1943, Berlin, Germany\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eReichs-minister of Armaments Albert Speer raced up the steps of the Air Ministry on the Tiergarten. He did not feel the harsh, diagonal sheets of rain that plummeted down from the grey sky; he did not notice that his raincoat—unbuttoned—had fallen away, exposing his tunic and shirt to the inundation of the September storm. The pitch of his fury swept everything but the immediate crisis out of  his mind.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eInsanity! Sheer, unmitigated, unforgivable insanity!\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eThe industrial reserves of all Germany were about exhausted; but he could handle that immense problem. Handle it by properly utilizing the manufacturing potential of the occupied countries; reverse the unmanageable practices of importing the labor forces. Labor forces? Slaves!\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eProductivity disastrous; sabotage continuous, unending.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eWhat did they expect?\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eIt was a time for sacrifice! Hitler could not continue to be all things to all people! He could not provide outsized Mercedeses and grand operas and populated restaurants; he had to provide, instead, tanks, munitions, ships, aircraft! \u003ci\u003eThese\u003c\/i\u003e were the priorities!\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eBut the Führer could never erase the memory of the 1918 revolution.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eHow totally inconsistent! The sole man whose will was shaping history, who was close to the preposterous dream of a thousand-year Reich, was petrified of a long-ago memory of unruly mobs, of unsatisfied masses.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eSpeer wondered if future historians would record the fact. If they would comprehend just how weak Hitler really was when it came to his own countrymen. How he buckled in fear when consumer production fell below anticipated schedules.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eInsanity!\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eBut still \u003ci\u003ehe,\u003c\/i\u003e the Reichs-minister of Armaments, could control this calamitous inconsistency as long as he was convinced it was just a question of time. A few months; perhaps six at the outside.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eFor there was Peenemünde.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eThe rockets.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eEverything reduced itself to Peenemünde!\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003ePeenemünde was irresistible. Peenemünde would cause the collapse of London and Washington. Both governments would see the futility of continuing the exercise of wholesale annihilation.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eReasonable men could then sit down and create reasonable treaties.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eEven if it meant the silencing of \u003ci\u003eun\u003c\/i\u003ereasonable men. Silencing Hitler.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eSpeer knew there were others who thought that way, too. The Führer was manifestly beginning to show unhealthy signs of pressure—fatigue. He now surrounded himself with mediocrity—an ill-disguised desire to remain in the comfortable company of his intellectual equals. But it went too far when the Reich itself was affected. A wine merchant, the foreign minister! A third-rate party propagandizer, the minister of eastern affairs! An erstwhile fighter pilot, the overseer of the \u003ci\u003eentire economy\u003c\/i\u003e!\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eEven himself. Even the quiet, shy architect; now the minister of armaments.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eAll that would change with Peenemünde.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eEven himself. Thank \u003ci\u003eGod\u003c\/i\u003e!\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eBut first there \u003ci\u003ehad\u003c\/i\u003e to be Peenemünde. There could be no \u003ci\u003equestion\u003c\/i\u003e of its operational success. For without Peenemünde, the war was lost.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eAnd now they were telling him there \u003ci\u003ewas\u003c\/i\u003e a question. A flaw that might well be the precursor of Germany’s defeat.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eA vacuous-looking corporal opened the door of the cabinet room. Speer walked in and saw that the long conference table was about two-thirds filled, the chairs in cliquish separation, as if the groups were suspect of one another. As, indeed, they were in these times of progressively sharpened rivalries within the Reich.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eHe walked to the head of the table, where—to his right—sat the only man in the room he could trust. Franz Alt-müller.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eAlt-müller was a forty-two-year-old cynic. Tall, blond, aristocratic; the vision of the Third Reich Aryan who did not, for a minute, subscribe to the racial nonsense proclaimed by the Third Reich. He did, however, subscribe to the theory of acquiring whatever benefits came his way by pretending to agree with anyone who might do him some good.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eIn public.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eIn private, among his \u003ci\u003every\u003c\/i\u003e close associates, he told the truth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eWhen that truth might also benefit him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eSpeer was not only Alt-müller’s associate, he was his friend. Their families had been more than neighbors; the two fathers had often gone into joint merchandising ventures; the mothers had been school chums.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eAlt-müller had taken after his father. He was an extremely capable businessman; his expertise was in production administration.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Good morning,” said Alt-müller, flicking an imaginary thread off his tunic lapel. He wore his party uniform far more often than was necessary, preferring to err on the side of the archangel.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“That seems unlikely,” replied Speer, sitting down rapidly. The groups—and they were groups—around the table kept talking among themselves but the voices were perceptibly quieter. Eyes kept darting over in Speer’s direction, then swiftly away; everyone was prepared for immediate silence yet none wished to appear apprehensive, guilty.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eSilence would come when either Alt-müller or Speer himself rose from his chair to address the gathering. That would be the signal. Not before. To render attention before that movement might give the appearance of fear. Fear was equivalent to an admission of error. No one at the conference table could afford that.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eAlt-müller opened a brown manila folder and placed it in front of Speer. It was a list of those summoned to the meeting. There were essentially three distinct factions with subdivisions within each, and each with its spokesman. Speer read the names and unobtrusively—he thought—looked up to ascertain the presence and location of the three leaders.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eAt the far end of the table, resplendent in his general’s uniform, his tunic a field of decorations going back thirty years, sat Ernst Leeb, Chief of the Army Ordnance Office. He was of medium height but excessively muscular, a condition he maintained well into his sixties. He smoked his cigarette through an ivory holder which he used to cut off his various subordinates’ conversations at will. In some ways Leeb was a caricature, yet still a powerful one. Hitler liked him, as much for his imperious military bearing as for his abilities.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eAt the midpoint of the table, on the left, sat Albert Vögler, the sharp, aggressive general manager of Reich’s Industry. Vögler was a stout man, the image of a burgomaster; the soft flesh of his face constantly creased into a questioning scowl. He laughed a great deal, but his laughter was hard; a device, not an enjoyment. He was well suited to his position. Vögler liked nothing better than hammering out negotiations between industrial adversaries. He was a superb mediator because all parties were usually frightened of him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eAcross from Vögler and slightly to the right, toward Alt-müller and Speer, was Wilhelm Zangen, the Reich official of the German Industrial Association. Zangen was thin- lipped, painfully slender, humorless; a fleshed-out skeleton happiest over his charts and graphs. A precise man who was given to perspiring at the edge of his receding hairline and below the nostrils and on his chin when nervous. He was perspiring now, and continuously brought his handkerchief up to blot the embarrassing moisture. Somewhat in contradiction to his appearance, however, Zangen was a persuasive debater. For he never argued without the facts.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eThey were all persuasive, thought Speer. And if it were not for his anger, he knew such men could—probably would—intimidate him. Albert Speer was honest in self-assessment; he realized that he had no substantial sense of authority. He found it difficult to express his thoughts forthrightly among such potentially hostile men. But now the potentially hostile men were in a defensive position. He could not allow his anger to cause them to panic, to seek only absolution for themselves.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eThey needed a remedy. Germany needed a remedy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003ePeenemünde had to be saved.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“How would you suggest we begin?” Speer asked Alt-müller, shading his voice so no one else at the table could hear him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“I don’t think it makes a particle of difference. It will take an hour of very loud, very boring, very obtuse explanations before we reach anything concrete.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“I’m not interested in explanations. . . .”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Excuses, then.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Least of all, excuses. I want a solution.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“If it’s to be found at this table—which, frankly, I doubt—you’ll have to sit through the excess verbiage. Perhaps something will come of it. Again, I doubt it.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Would you care to explain that?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eAlt-müller looked directly into Speer’s eyes. “Ultimately, I’m not sure there is a solution. But if there is, I don’t think it’s at this table. . . . Perhaps I’m wrong. Why don’t we listen first?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“All right. Would you please open with the summary you prepared? I’m afraid I’d lose my temper midway through.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“May I suggest,” Alt-müller whispered, “that it will be necessary for you to lose your temper at some point during this meeting. I don’t see how you can avoid it.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“I understand.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eAlt-müller pushed back his chair and stood up. Grouping by grouping the voices trailed off around the table.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Gentlemen. This emergency session was called for  reasons of which we assume you are aware. At least you should be aware of them. Apparently it is only the Reichs-minister of Armaments and his staff who were not informed; a fact which the Reichs-minister and his staff find appalling. . . . In short words, the Peenemünde operation faces a crisis of unparalleled severity. In spite of the millions poured into this most vital weaponry development, in spite of the assurances consistently offered by your respective departments, we now learn that production may be brought to a complete halt within a matter of weeks. Several months prior to the \u003ci\u003eagreed-upon\u003c\/i\u003e date for the first operational rockets. That date has never been questioned. It has been the keystone for whole military strategies; entire armies have been maneuvered to coordinate with it. Germany’s victory is predicated on it. . . . But now Peenemünde is threatened; Germany is threatened. . . . If the projections the Reichs-minister’s staff have compiled—\u003ci\u003eunearthed\u003c\/i\u003e and compiled—are valid, the Peenemünde complex will exhaust its supply of industrial diamonds in less than ninety days. Without industrial diamonds the precision tooling in Peenemünde cannot continue.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eThe babble of voices—excited, guttural, vying for attention—erupted the second Alt-müller sat down. General Leeb’s cigarette holder slashed the air in front of him as though it  were a saber; Albert Vögler scowled and wrinkled his flesh- puffed eyes, placed his bulky hands on the table and spoke harshly in a loud monotone; Wilhelm Zangen’s handkerchief was working furiously around his face and his neck, his high-pitched voice in conflict with the more masculine tones around him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eFranz Alt-müller leaned toward Speer. “You’ve seen cages of angry ocelots in the zoo? The zookeeper can’t let them hurl themselves into the bars. I suggest you lose your benign temper far earlier than we discussed. Perhaps now.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“That is not the way.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Don’t let them think you are cowed. . . .”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Nor that I am cowering.” Speer interrupted his friend, the slightest trace of a smile on his lips. He stood up. “Gentlemen.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eThe voices trailed off.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Herr Alt-müller speaks harshly; he does so, I’m sure, because I spoke harshly with him. That was this morning, very early this morning. There is greater perspective now; it is no time for recriminations. This is not to lessen the critical aspects of the situation, for they are great. But anger will solve nothing. And we need solutions. . . . Therefore, I propose to seek your assistance—the assistance of the finest industrial and military minds in the Reich. First, of course, we need to know the specifics. I shall start with Herr Vögler. As manager of Reich’s Industry, would you give us your estimate?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eVögler was upset; he didn’t wish to be the first called. “I’m not sure I can be of much enlightenment, Herr Reichs-minister. I, too, am subject to the reports given me. They have been optimistic; until the other week there was no suggestion of difficulty.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“How do you mean, optimistic?” asked Speer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“The quantities of bortz and carbonado diamonds were said to be sufficient. Beyond this there are the continuing experiments with lithicum, carbon and paraffin. Our intelligence tells us that the Englishman Storey at the British Museum reverified the Hannay-Moissan theories. Diamonds \u003ci\u003ewere\u003c\/i\u003e produced in this fashion.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Who verified the Englishman?” Franz Alt-müller did not speak kindly. “Had it occurred to you that such data was meant to be passed?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Such verification is a matter for Intelligence. I am not with Intelligence, Herr Alt-müller.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Go on,” said Speer quickly. “What else?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“There is an Anglo-American experiment under the supervision of the Bridgemann team. They are subjecting graphite to pressures in excess of six million pounds per square inch. So far there is no word of success.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Is there word of failure?” Alt-müller raised his aristocratic eyebrows, his tone polite.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“I remind you again, I am not with Intelligence. I have received no word whatsoever.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Food for thought, isn’t it,” said Alt-müller, without asking a question.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Nevertheless,” interrupted Speer before Vögler could respond, “you had reason to assume that the quantities of bortz and carbonado were sufficient. Is that not so?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Sufficient. Or at least obtainable, Herr Reichs-minister.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“How so obtainable?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“I believe General Leeb might be more knowledgeable on that subject.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eLeeb nearly dropped his ivory cigarette holder. Alt-müller noted his surprise and cut in swiftly. “Why would the army ordnance officer have that information, Herr Vögler? I ask merely for my own curiosity.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“The reports, once more. It is my understanding that the Ordnance Office is responsible for evaluating the industrial, agricultural and mineral potentials of occupied territories. Or those territories so projected.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eErnst Leeb was not entirely unprepared. He \u003ci\u003ewas\u003c\/i\u003e unprepared for Vögler’s insinuations, not for the subject. He turned to an aide, who shuffled papers top to bottom as Speer inquired.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“The Ordnance Office is under enormous pressure these days; as is your department, of course, Herr Vögler. I wonder if General Leeb has had the time . . .”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“We \u003ci\u003emade\u003c\/i\u003e the time,” said Leeb, his sharp military  bearing pitted in counterpoint to Vögler’s burgomaster gruffness. “When we received word—from Herr Vögler’s subordinates—that a crisis was imminent—not upon us, but imminent—we immediately researched the possibilities for extrication.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eFranz Alt-müller brought his hand to his mouth to cover an involuntary smile. He looked at Speer, who was too annoyed to find any humor in the situation.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“I’m relieved the Ordnance Office is so confident, general,” said Speer. The Reichs-minister of Armaments had \u003ci\u003elittle\u003c\/i\u003e confidence in the military and had difficulty disguising it. “Please, your extrication?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“I said \u003ci\u003epossibilities,\u003c\/i\u003e Herr Speer. To arrive at practical solutions \u003ci\u003ewill\u003c\/i\u003e take more time than we’ve been given.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Very well. Your possibilities?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“There is an immediate remedy with historical precedent.” Leeb paused to remove his cigarette, crushing it  out, aware that everyone around the table watched him intently. “I have taken the liberty of recommending preliminary studies to the General Staff. It involves an expeditionary force of less than four battalions. . . . Africa. The diamond mines east of Tanganyika.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e\u003ci\u003e“What?”\u003c\/i\u003e Alt-müller leaned forward; he obviously could not help himself. “You’re not serious.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“Please!” Speer would not allow his friend to interrupt. If Leeb had even conceived of such drastic action, it might have merit. No military man, knowing the thin line of combat strength—chewed up on the Eastern Front, under murderous assault by the Allies in Italy—could suggest such  an absurdity unless he had a realistic hope of success. “Go ahead, general.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“The Williamson Mines at Mwadui. Between the districts of Tanganyika and Zanzibar in the central sector. The mines at Mwadui produce over a million carats of the carbonado diamond annually. Intelligence—the intelligence that is forwarded regularly to me at my insistence—informs us that there are supplies going back several months. Our agents in Dar es Salaam are convinced such an incursion would be successful.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eFranz Alt-müller passed a sheet of paper to Speer. On it he had scribbled: “He’s lost his senses!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“What is the historical precedent to which you refer?” asked Speer, holding his hand over Alt-müller’s paper.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“All of the districts east of Dar es Salaam rightfully belong to the Third Reich, German West Africa. They were taken from the fatherland after the Great War. The Führer himself made that clear four years ago.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eThere was silence around the table. An embarrassed silence. The eyes of even his aides avoided the old soldier. Finally Speer spoke quietly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“That is justification, not precedent, general. The world cares little for our justifications, and although I question the logistics of moving battalions halfway around the globe, you may have raised a valid point. Where else nearer . . . in \u003ci\u003eEast\u003c\/i\u003e Africa, perhaps, can the bortz or the carbonado be found?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eLeeb looked to his aides; Wilhelm Zangen lifted his handkerchief to his nostrils and bowed his thin head in the direction of the general. He spoke as if exhaling, his high voice irritating.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“I’ll answer you, Herr Reichs-minister. And then, I believe, you will see how fruitless this discussion is. . . . Sixty percent of the world’s crushing-bortz diamonds are in the Belgian Congo. The two principal deposits are in the Kasai and Bakwanga fields, between the Kanshi and the Bushimaie rivers. The district’s governor-general is Pierre Ryckmans; he is devoted to the Belgian government in exile in London. I can assure Leeb that the Congo’s allegiances to Belgium are far greater than ours ever were in Dar es Salaam.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eLeeb lit a cigarette angrily. Speer leaned back in his chair and addressed Zangen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“All right. Sixty percent crushing-bortz; what of carbonado and the rest?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“French Equatorial: totally allied to de Gaulle’s Free French. Ghana and Sierra Leone: the tightest of British controls. Angola: Portuguese domination and their neutrality’s inviolate; we know that beyond doubt. French West Africa: not only under Free French mandate but with Allied forces manning the outposts. . . . Here, there was only one possibility and we lost it a year and a half ago. Vichy abandoned the Ivory Coast. . . . There is no access in Africa, Reichs-minister. None of a military nature.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“I see.” Speer doodled on top of the paper Alt-müller had passed to him. “You are recommending a nonmilitary solution?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e“There is no other. The question is what.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp class=\"\"\u003eSpeer turned to Franz Alt-müller. His tall, blond associate was staring at them all. Their faces were blank. Baffled.#1 New York Times bestselling author\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Bantam","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303071011045,"sku":"NP9780345539175","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780345539175.jpg?v=1767741232","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-rhinemann-exchange-isbn-9780345539175","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}