The Discovery, A Novel (16 page)

Justice Department Building
Washington DC
January, 1943

Gene Conway, Assistant Director of the FBI, stepped into the wood-paneled office of J. Edgar Hoover. Two American flags stood like sentries behind the director’s desk on either side. Conway glanced up at the blue and white FBI seal hanging over Hoover’s head on the back wall then down at Hoover, who hadn’t looked up yet. He was signing papers. Both men were impeccably dressed in dark suits, pressed white shirts, and modest ties. What had become, unofficially, the G-man’s uniform.

“What is it, Gene? You said it was important.”

“It’s happened again, Mr. Hoover. Nazis have landed more saboteurs, probably from U-boats again. Off the beach in Florida, maybe somewhere else.”

Hoover looked up with angry eyes. “
Maybe
somewhere else?”

“We only know about Florida for certain at this point. I’m judging by what they did last time, sir. Multiple teams in two different states.”

“When did this happen?”

“We don’t have an exact date. They may have come onshore several months ago.”

“Months ago? How is it that we’re just finding this out now?”

“The report is still preliminary, but—”

“What do we know, Gene? Give me the facts.”

“The nor’easter pounding New England right now started in Florida a few days ago. The wind and seas tore up the beaches pretty good down there.”

Hoover shot him a look that said “get to the bottom line.”

“We found a body, sir. In the sand dunes.”

“Bodies have been washing up on the beach off and on for the last year,” Hoover said. “Merchantmen from those ships sunk by U-boats.”

“This body didn’t wash up on the beach, Mr. Hoover. The storm eroded the sand dunes, which exposed where the body was buried.”

“It was buried?”

“That’s how we know the saboteurs have been here for several months. By the condition of the body.”

“We need something more specific than several months.”

“We should know more after the autopsy.”

“Just the one body?” Hoover asked, leaning forward on the desk.

“We’ve got crews digging in the area nearby. But looks that way so far. Don’t know how the man died yet, but I’ve been told there were no gunshot wounds. None of the bones were broken.”

“Might’ve drowned,” Hoover said. “But the Nazis never send in just one man.”

“That’s our thinking, sir. Based on what we learned from the last bunch, they always work in teams. Last time it was two teams of four. And the four-man teams operated, really, in teams of two.”

“Anyone talk to Dasch and Burger?” Hoover was referring to George Dasch and Ernst Burger, the two Nazi saboteurs from the team caught last summer. The two who were still alive. They had turned in the other six, who had been executed. Dasch and Burger were reluctantly spared because of their cooperation and were given long prison sentences.

“Got a team heading to the prison now for an interview,” Conway said. “But Dasch and Burger already told us there were only eight men in their squad, and only eight, even back in Germany. All present and accounted for.”

“Doesn’t mean the Germans didn’t train other teams in other locations,” Hoover said. “And kept them in the dark about each other.”

“Need to know, you mean?” Conway said.

“Right.” Hoover leaned back in his chair. “If these new teams have been here for months, I’m surprised we haven’t had any incidents. There haven’t been any, right?”

Conway shook his head. “You’d be the first to know, sir. But we have tightened up security at all the targets Dasch and Burger told us about.”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” Hoover said. “Plenty of new targets to pick from.”

“Maybe we haven’t heard anything because they chickened out, like Dasch and Burger did.”

“Maybe. Bunch of Keystone Cops, that crew. But we can’t count on it. We need to find out what these other teams are up to.”

“Everyone from last time is already on it, Mr. Hoover. The Florida and New York teams.”

“Well, double it!” Hoover said. “Triple it, if you have to. We need to round these men up, wherever they are.”

“Right, sir.”

Hoover stared down at a spot on his desk. “The president thought making public examples of the first saboteurs—and their swift executions—would deter the Germans from sending in any more teams. I didn’t think it would. They’re a devious lot.” He sighed. “And those imbeciles at the Coast Guard. Told them last time this was going to happen again and keep on happening if they didn’t start beefing up the beach patrols. They’ve got huge gaps all up and down the coast.”

“It seems like they did respond to at least some of the things we mentioned,” Conway said. “A horse patrol found the body in the dunes.”

“But they know this is our case,” Hoover said. “From top to bottom.”

“The Coast Guard knows, sir,” Conway said. “I made it clear. They didn’t even put up a fight.”

“What about the locals? I don’t want any trouble from them.”

“I don’t expect any, sir. But how do you want to handle the press?”

“No press. None. Even after we catch these guys. I’ll confirm with the president, but I’m sure he’ll concur. The public thinks we got the last spies rounded up, either in jail or executed. We want to keep it that way.” Hoover looked up at Conway and smiled. “I want Americans to keep vigilant, but I don’t want them thinking the Germans are really here.”

“But sir, we’ll have dozens of agents in the area trying to hunt these guys down, asking lots of questions. The press will get wind of that. Supposedly word’s already leaked out about finding this body in the dunes.”

“That’s okay. Is the scene blocked off?”

“Completely, and no reporters have shown up yet,” Conway said.

“Then we control the story. When we’re ready, we’ll tell them it’s just another body washed up on the beach. No ID. For all they know, could be a sailor from one of these freighters that blew up. That’s all they need to know.”

“Right, sir.”

“Who’s in charge in Florida?”

“Special Agent Victor Hammond.”

“A good man. Tell him everything I said, right away.”

“I will.”

“You didn’t mention, Mr. Conway, how we know this dead body’s from a U-boat. Was he wearing a German uniform?”

“No, he was dressed in street clothes. All bought in the US, at some point. But whoever put those clothes on him must’ve been in a hurry. Left his German dog tags on.”

“We need to find that man,” Hoover said.

“We will, sir. We will.”

Special Agent Victor Hammond surveyed the scene. The coroner had just driven away with the body of a Nazi spy. Two teams explored the sand dunes for a half mile in either direction, looking to find anything else the Germans might have buried that night, things the storm may have recently exposed. Other teams were poking and digging holes in the immediate vicinity. Hammond had picked the same men who’d found the last cache of weapons, explosives, and cash buried back in June by Dasch and Burger’s men.

The storm was long gone, but its effects were still present. It was low tide now, but the waves were still huge. From what the local sheriff had said, at high tide the water still came much farther up the beach than normal. Where Hammond stood would be under a foot of water later that day. The wind blew so hard, he’d given up holding onto his hat and left it in the car.

He saw his partner, Nate Winters, walking through the soft sand, heading his way. “How many more hours before the tide changes, Nate?”

“Four or five. But I don’t think there’s anything more we can do here, Vic. They’ll call us if they find anything.”

“Here,” Hammond said, handing him a sheet of paper. “Give this to that huddle of reporters up by the road.”

Nate looked at it, read a few paragraphs, nodded his head. “Body washed up on the beach. Hinting at it being one of our guys, from one of the Liberty ships?”

“That’s the way the boss wants it,” Hammond said. “They might be suspicious, want to know why we have so many agents out here for something like that. But they’ll cooperate. Where are the rest of the men?”

“Waiting in a little restaurant on Atlantic Avenue, between here and Ormond Beach. That’s the closest town. I told them to shut it down, tell the owner we need his place for a briefing. He was fine when I said we’d all be buying lunch.”

“Well, go give this to the press. I’ll get the car and pick you up.” Hammond walked through the beach sand, then the sand dunes, up to his car. He’d parked it just off Atlantic Avenue along a lonely stretch, with nothing but more sand and sand dunes as far as the eye could see.

As soon as he turned the car on, a call came in on the radio about an explosion in a shipbuilding plant near Savannah, Georgia. He wrote down everything he’d been told. Details were sketchy. More to come in another report an hour from now. But he was to send a team up there right away.

On the way to the Seaside Cafe, Hammond had briefed Nate about the explosion near Savannah. They parked among a dozen identical cars in the small restaurant parking lot. Inside, twenty field agents sat in a handful of booths and tables, sipping coffee, drinking soda, and eating sandwiches. As soon as they saw Hammond, the conversations stopped. Everyone gave him their full attention. Hammond looked to the left, saw the cook standing behind a counter with a woman in a waitress outfit.

“Hi,” the woman said, walking up with a menu. “I’m Matty. This is my husband, Bill.” She gestured to the cook.

“I don’t need a menu, ma’am,” Hammond said. He noticed what two agents at the nearest table were eating. “My partner and I will have that.”

She pulled out her pad. “Two BLTs. Want that on white or rye?”

“Rye is fine.” He looked at Nate.

“I’ll have the same.”

Hammond leaned toward her. “Matty, can you get those out in less than five minutes?”

“I think we can do that.”

“Then I’m going to need you and your husband to leave for about fifteen minutes.”

“You mean . . . leave the restaurant?”

“Yes. I need to speak to my men in private. National security matter.”

“Oh . . . sure. We can do that.” She leaned over and whispered, “This about that body they found in the dunes up the way?”

“Can’t say.”

“You men want anything to drink?”

“Coffee is fine.”

Nate nodded, indicating the same. Hammond turned away from her, toward his men, to send her a message. “Eat up, boys. I’ll brief you in about ten minutes.” He sat at an empty table close to the front door. Nate sat beside him.

In a few minutes, Matty and her husband brought out the sandwiches, chips, and coffee, then hurried out the back door. Hammond wolfed down his BLT, took a few sips of coffee, then stood up. “Men, all of you were involved when we caught the last bunch of spies last summer, so you know what this investigation will look like. Not saying it will be identical. As far as we can tell, this new team had no involvement with the last group. Dasch and Burger didn’t know anything about them.”

“Do we believe them?” someone asked.

“Yeah, we do,” he said. “As far as they knew, their two teams were the whole program. So be ready for some surprises.”

“Do we even know for certain there are other Nazi spies in the country now?” another man asked. “Don’t we just have the one body? No other evidence?”

“We haven’t found any other suitcases or crates, correct?” said the agent right in front of him. “Like we did last summer.”

“If you’re asking me,” Hammond said, “if I might be sending you out on a wild goose chase, with no good leads, and probably nothing to show for all your hard work and long hours in the end”—Hammond paused a moment—“the answer is yes.” The men laughed. “We could be looking at a lone German soldier buried in the sand dunes, but then you have to ask yourself why. Why would a German U-boat come onshore, risking capture, to bury one man? Why would they change him into American clothes? It doesn’t add up.” He looked down at Nate. “You drinking that water?”

Nate handed the glass to Hammond. “From what we’ve learned in our interviews with Dasch and Burger, this dead guy had a partner. They always work in pairs. And there was probably at least another team of two Germans that came onshore that night from the same U-boat. Could even be more. Back in June there were eight. Four in Florida, four on Long Island. We don’t know if this dead guy’s partner set out on his own or joined up with the others.”

“So we’ve got a lot less to go on this time than before,” a voice in the back said.

“We do. But I just received word of a small explosion in a shipyard just east of Savannah. Could be nothing or it could be the work of this new team of saboteurs. The timing is very suspicious.” As voices rose, Hammond called the men back to attention. “Listen up. Remember what broke the case wide open last time? It wasn’t because we found a needle in a haystack. It happened because Dasch and Burger got cold feet and turned the others in. We don’t need to find all these guys. Just one. We’re working on the assumption that this new team paid attention to what happened to the last team and learned from their mistakes.”

“So we’re not wasting time checking out all the military targets the last team went after,” Nate said.

“That’s right,” Hammond said. “They would know how much tighter security would be at those locations. Narrows our search down a little.” He picked up a thin stack of papers. “I’m holding your assignments here. All the military bases and defense plants in a two hundred mile radius. We don’t have an exact date this new team came onshore. But judging by the body, it was likely sometime in August or September.”

“Then they can be anywhere by now,” one of the men said. “Look how far the Florida team traveled back in June. In less than two weeks they were in Chicago and Cincinnati.”

“Your job will be to head to your assigned targets and start looking for anything that doesn’t add up. Start with strangers who’ve moved into the area in the last few months. Men without families. They’ll probably have lots of cash. Most of their possessions will be new. Most of the guys on the last team spoke English pretty well, but some of them had German accents. If there’s a German section of town, start there. You get the idea.”

Hammond took one last gulp of coffee. “I’ll start around here, the towns nearby, working on the assumption that the partner of this dead guy set out on his own. I don’t think they’d have made a threesome. That would draw too much attention.”

“But we can’t rule that out, either,” one of the men said.

“No, can’t rule anything out at this point,” Hammond said, putting on his fedora. “As for the Savannah team, your assignment just changed. Nate here will be heading that up. You guys leave immediately and go right to that shipyard, just outside of town. You’ll be getting an update on the radio. The rest of you—keep this in mind—we just need to get one of these guys. Just one. He’ll already know we put six of his buddies in the electric chair last August and that fate awaits him if he doesn’t cooperate. Get any leads back to me or Nate.”

He lifted his coat off the chair. “We’ll find these guys, gentlemen. It’s just a matter of time.”