Munroe’s first thought was that this was another test, one of his gullibility, but as he gazed at McCitrick and his stony expression he began to think better of it. “It sounds like you’ve been spending too much time on YouTube and going down the Alex Jones rabbit hole. Seventy-odd years of taught history, hundreds of historical books and countless scholars would disagree with you.”
“True, but as I said, history is written by the victors. Everything else just bleeds off. Do you know how the greatest lies are forged and upheld, Ethan?”
“By hiding them between two truths,” Munroe replied, and his assessment brought a taut smile to McCitrick’s lips.
“Fifty million dead and the necessity of not giving millions of German troops a banner to flock to at the end of the war are pretty solid truths, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would say so.”
“Then let me disclose to you the reality you find yourself in. The truth that only the victors can offer.” McCitrick raised the remote control towards the monitor and clicked.
The picture of an elderly gentleman wearing a light blue suit, perhaps in his eighties, standing over a birthday cake and surrounded by children appeared on the screen. With short black hair and deep wrinkles around his eyes and cheeks the man was smiling as he prepared to press a large cake knife into the icing. The clean-shaven man was so familiar, yet not, and at a glance it would have been easy to dismiss as an innocuous family photo.
“It’s remarkable how the simple shaving of such an iconic moustache can be such an effective mask.” McCitrick said as Munroe moved from his seat over to the table, transfixed by the photo. “He was eighty-three when this was taken, somewhere in Argentina. The exact location is unknown, but we do know he died nine years later, in 1981, at the ripe old age of ninety-two.”
Munroe was now mesmerised and he stood there examining every wrinkle, every contour of the old man’s face as McCitrick continued, his voice remaining calm and unwavering.
“It’s hard to believe, isn’t it, that the old bastard saw the advent of space travel, computers and the modern world that he indirectly helped create through his butchering and lust for world domination. And never has such a travesty of justice been so repellent, and unknown to the people of the globe.”
Munroe still said nothing, continuing to study the image, until after a few more moments of near-hypnotic scrutinising he tore his gaze from the photo and turned towards McCitrick. “How?”
McCitrick pressed at the remote again and brought up a map of Europe displaying the last days of World War Two, the black swastika representing the last refuge of Nazi power in Berlin surrounded by the Soviets on one side and the Americans on the other. “Hitler’s body was never found. It was said to have been burnt to a crisp on his orders. The leader of the Reich had no wish to end up like Mussolini, whose body was hung from a lamp post for show and beaten to a bloody pulp along with his mistress. The advancing Soviets got there first and took what was left, but Stalin insisted it wasn’t Hitler. Allied high command believed it was a ruse to allow the Soviets to keep the war going, and in doing so snatch up more of Europe, which ultimately would have continued into the Pacific to make a land grab in Japan. No, the war in Europe had to end, and so his death was reported and concluded as suicide. Can you imagine, Ethan, if the German Army and all the devout Nazi believers had realised Hitler was still alive! With that kind of loyal fanaticism the war would have raged on. The German Army would never have surrendered in droves, as they did, and the world would have been set ablaze again for many years, with millions more dead. Far better to end it all with a single suicide, which many of his contemporaries likened to ‘the breaking of a spell’.”
Munroe was dumbstruck by the idea, but before he bombarded McCitrick with questions, he needed to know something. “Just so were clear, this isn’t a test, is it? You’re on the level.”
McCitrick almost laughed out loud. “It’s hard to digest, I know. I had the same reaction upon first hearing it. The wartime Allies bought into Hitler’s death… Churchill, though, did not. Within days of Germany’s surrender a covert team of British and American investigators were sent into the Führer’s bunker, and what they found caused an emergency meeting between Churchill and President Harry Truman, which is how this whole thing of ours got off the ground.”
“And that was?”
“They found a secret access hatch leading directly from Hitler’s private room, via a network of tunnels, to the old U6 subway station, exiting next to Tempelhof airport. Back in 2015 a team of researchers had the same idea and actually found it using sonar equipment, but we made sure the news cycle moved on, quickly. Twenty-four-hour rolling news is a godsend for intelligence operations. But back then, it was concluded that this was how the little bastard escaped, and then went on to South America via U-boat. It soon became the perfect place for ex-war criminals, due to the Nazi leanings of Argentine President Juan Perón.”
The admission caused Munroe to fall silent in shock for a moment while McCitrick stared at him, gauging his reactions. “So the stories are true.” He’d heard the conspiracy theories over the years, and they were now confirmed as McCitrick gave a heavy nod of his head.
“There are still whole German communities deep within the Argentinian and Brazilian forests. The lasting legacy of their Nazi fathers. I’ve seen them with my own eyes. They have little to do with Daedalus, or not anymore, at any rate.”
“So the internet gossip got it right,” Munroe said, filled with fascination by the idea.
“Some of it, yes. Gossip is a hard thing to regulate, but easy to manipulate, and we’ve done a good job of it over the years. You see, Churchill recognised that if the world knew Hitler and his top Nazis had got out it would be nothing short of a worldwide beacon for far-right extremists and sympathisers, and after five years of war that had taken the world to the brink, he wasn’t about to let it all resurface. And so an operation was put in place. One of the last things Churchill signed off on, which evolved into a secret charter between Great Britain, America and France. A clandestine organisation was formed to hunt, track and monitor any emergence of whatever the remaining Nazis might want to achieve.”
“And that was?”
“Simple, and exactly what you’d think. A Fourth Reich, which would last for the thousand years Hitler had promised.”
Munroe sat back down in his chair and exhaled a deep breath as he tried to take stock of the bombshell that had just dropped on him. It had been almost eighty years since the end of the war, and to think that the original Nazi clan had maintained a presence was difficult to comprehend. “Shouldn’t you have taken care of it by now? You’ve had long enough.”
McCitrick looked unoffended by the insinuation. He rested back down on the edge of the desk and leant forward. “You make it sound so easy. The war ended in the biggest displacement of human beings of the twentieth century. Possibly in the history of humankind. My predecessors had no idea the SS, knowing the war was lost back in 1943, had spent years cultivating the escape lines to South America. The huge amount of money they had stolen from Europe was used to create new lives and networks for those bastards and, from what we’ve learnt in the years since, they were planning this resurgence of Nazi doctrine long before the war ended. That’s why there was no surrender until after Hitler’s supposed death. Why the army, civilians, kids, pensioners, were all ordered to fight for every last metre of dirt. To give them time to fulfil their escape plans… and it worked a bloody treat.”
“But so many of Hitler’s inner circle were caught or died trying to escape,” Munroe replied, instinctually wanting to push back against the tall tale he was hearing.
McCitrick on the other hand appeared to be enjoying this retelling, like a man who had bottled up secrets for years and could finally tell someone else what he knew. “Sure, many were caught, but look at who they were. In the final days of the war Hermann Goering demanded he take over from Hitler and then surrendered. Heinrich Himmler tried to make a deal with the Allies and subsequently committed suicide. These were the weak links in Hitler’s inner circle, and he was more than happy to feed them to the dogs. A long time back we got our hands on one of the original insiders, an old man at the time but an SS general during the war who had escaped to Argentina. He told us that no one except Hitler and Martin Bormann, his personal secretary, knew the full picture of the escape plan. Hitler had been paranoid about being betrayed and considering the number of drugs he was on it’s understandable, but he was proved right. Goering and Himmler went to their deaths never knowing they had an out, and if they’d held steady they would have escaped as well.”
“How about Bormann? I read they found his bones during excavations under the Rhine a few years ago.”
McCitrick laughed out loud sarcastically. “Yeah,” he chuckled, “after almost a century, and among thousands of previously undiscovered war corpses, they just happen to come across the skeleton of one of the most famous war criminals ever. Hell of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say? We pushed that story when interest in escaping Nazis caught the public’s fascination back in the late nineties, and then had it confirmed a decade later when improved genetic testing became available, just so it seemed more plausible. It was total bullshit though. We caught Bormann back in the sixties and handed him over to Israel, on the express understanding he would be dealt with by a military tribunal, in secret. He was hung in 1968 after being convicted by a ‘jury of his peers’.” McCitrick sniffed at the idea. “In reality he didn’t stand a chance, and good riddance, as far as I’m concerned.”
“How about Goebbels, didn’t he kill his children and then commit suicide with his wife in a final show of loyalty to his Führer?”
“Good old Joe Goebbels,” McCitrick said, still smiling. “Hitler may have been a narcissistic psychopath with the morality of a serial killer, but he was a cunning little prick. He hand-picked individuals to double for him during the war, a safety precaution against all the Germans who had pegged him for the fruitcake that he was and wanted to see him dead. It was one of these doppelgangers that was used to take a bullet to the head in his apparent suicide. Which was another reason for having his body burnt. It must have been a good likeness, because when he was taken out to be cremated nobody noticed the switch, even his loyal Joseph Goebbels, who then committed suicide, never realised the switch had taken place.” McCitrick pointed his finger towards his own forehead. “A gunshot to the head does wonders for the skin. It was Goebbels’s act of sacrifice, even if it was done unknowingly, that cemented the belief that it was Hitler’s crispy nugget in that shallow grave instead of the poor soul who took the bullet for him. Yes, the Grey Wolf was as cunning as he was insane.”
“Grey Wolf?”
“It was Hitler’s codename after the war, while in Argentina. Quite the ego for someone with more of a resemblance to a scurrying rat than the magnificent canine he named himself after.”
Munroe took a moment to process the information. it was a lot to take in, and even though he could get on board with the historical rewrite he was struggling to be convinced by almost everything else. “OK, so the Nazi hierarchy escaped justice. A travesty, yes, and I can see why no one wanted to admit it publicly, but… That was over seventy years ago, and seeing as they haven’t managed to take over the earth so far, why DS5?”
The question was asked bluntly, but McCitrick looked as if he’d been asked it many, many times before.
“That’s the real question, isn’t it. What relevance does a clandestine organisation, operating at the behest of the highest positions of political power in the Western world, have in the modern age?”
McCitrick shifted off the table and sat down in the seat next to Munroe and then rested his arm on the back of it. “Churchill wasn’t just a remarkable orator, he was also blessed with tremendous foresight, which is why, I think, President Truman got on board with his idea in the first place. How do you plan for all eventualities about a threat that could rise up at any time, from anywhere, and compromise anyone – including those in power? That was the real concern.”
“Difficult, but not impossible. Put too much power in one person’s hands and it’s open to corruptibility,” Munroe replied, sounding vague because he wanted to hear it from McCitrick’s own mouth and not dilute the conversation with his own theory.
“Precisely. There are few absolutes in life, but one is that power corrupts even the best-intentioned people. It’s an unfortunate part of the human condition, which is why it’s no coincidence that the most democratic countries in the world are the ones with the most checks and balances the higher up the totem pole you go. I believe it was Lincoln who said, ‘If you want to test a man’s character, give him power. Give a little power and you see the true mettle of a man.’ This was something that Churchill also believed emphatically. He was a big fan of Lincoln.”
McCitrick pulled out a pack of cherry cough drops. “Helped me quit smoking, been addicted to them ever since,” he said, popping one into his mouth before continuing. “It was decided that a group would be set up, kept from the public, for the reasons I’ve already mentioned, with total authority coming from the Home Secretary and his or her opposite numbers in both America and France. The number of operatives would be small, for accountability reasons, and no other member of government would be aware of its existence. If a Nazi resurgence was ever to be attempted, then it was presumed infiltration of the Western political apparatus would be a given, and the top jobs would be the most coveted for anyone attempting a takeover from within. Each defence head, with access to military and influence beyond the country’s borders, would be watched for any signs of Nazi re-emergence, as well as keep an eye on each other, like a safety net. The Fourth Reich may manage to acquire one of the positions, but all three at the same time? Extremely unlikely.”
“And what if any of these positions, or any singular operatives, did become corrupted?” Munroe asked, already seeing the need for such safety valves.
“Back in the Forties, secret military courts had been set up during the war effort in both the UK and the US to deal with Axis spies, keeping trials from the public domain. These courts had the right to execute as well. They went on being used, if necessary, during the Cold War. They’ve rarely been employed since, but the structure for them is there just in case it’s ever needed. It was this instrument that was agreed on by the three leaders to deal with any infiltrations into western democracy, if and when, they occurred. It is this instrument of justice that applies to us as well, Ethan.”
The idea was harsh, but Munroe knew the reality, and to him it was more than warranted.
“DS5 are a protective measure and although we’ve evolved over the decades – there were major changes in operations after 9/11 – the mandate still holds true. We watch, wait and intervene when the need arises. Given all the original Nazis died out long ago, the movement which they started and backed with stolen money from the people of Europe has morphed into something similar yet operationally very different… Daedalus. They are highly organised, well financed and over the decades have infiltrated many areas of industry and political life. Have no illusions, Ethan, these people aren’t like the Taliban. They are near impossible to spot, having been born into their cover. They are highly motivated, highly trained and true believers in a Fourth Reich, and they will stop at nothing to make it happen. Their goal is long term, generations in the making, and they rarely stick their head above the parapet unless it’s essential to advance their goal. Sometimes years can go by with nothing, not even a lead, and then they pop up again, and that’s when we swoop. It’s a game of chess. A long game – but the attack on Parliament changes everything. There’s no reason to have committed it unless it’s a stepping stone towards bigger things.”
“Jesus,” Munroe replied, unsure of what worried him more – the fact that Daedalus was out there, or that DS5 knew hardly anything about them. After over seventy years!
McCitrick must have sensed Munroe’s concerns and he leant in closer, even though they were the only ones in the room. “Look, I know it might appear like we’re in the dark, but I assure you there’s a lot I’m not telling you, need-to-know information. What I can say is that we’ve had our suspicions about Icarus for months, and by killing two MI6 agents he stuck his neck out too far. He’s Daedalus to the core, and we were hoping he’d lead us deeper into the furnace, but now he’s gone rogue it’s essential that we track him down. That’s what I want you on.”
“And how about his contact at the Ministry of Defence? The photo you showed me back in London appeared fairly conclusive that he has someone on the inside.”
McCitrick looked unconcerned and he tapped Munroe on the shoulder. “It’s in hand, you leave that to me. Right now, as I said, I want you on Icarus. He’s the lead to follow. And we need him brought in.”
Munroe had no issue with such an assignment – there was still too much he needed to know from the man about his family. But he was still trying to fathom DS5, an organisation that he was already being inducted into. “So essentially you’re Nazi hunters.”
McCitrick chuckled at the idea, for the first time looking almost embarrassed. “Something like that, but we’re so much more. We also carry out operations through the Ministry of Defence. But yes, in a nutshell, you’re correct. Our primary role is hunting Nazis – or Daedalus, as they’ve become.”
Munroe didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The whole thing was surreal. And despite the idea of a Nazi group still attempting to act out the wishes of a thousand-year Reich at the behest of a dead man and his cronies, there was a more pertinent question on his mind. “Is this… DS5… legal? You are keeping it from the PM and the other two presidents, right?”
“Oh, it’s legal. It’s a bit rocky since the EU came into force, and as I mentioned the events of 9/11 have complicated things, but yes. We may be the most secretive organisation in the intelligence community, but we also have a presence everywhere within it and beyond. As for our place in the world, it’s best put like this. There are many layers of security, intelligence and accountability in each of our governments but, from the position we work from, we can’t even see those layers, let alone be bound by them. It’s one of the reasons why DS5 operatives’ moral virtues must be unimpeachable. Licence to kill is standard, and we have all and any equipment or resources needed to assist in our remit at our fingertips. And above all else, we take the heat for the government when needed. To put it bluntly, Ethan, we are unaccountable by all and only accountable to each other and the UK, US and French secretaries in charge.” McCitrick now bit at his bottom lip. “It also means we’re expendable.”
“Expendable?” Munroe said. Even though he liked what he was hearing it put an uncomfortable twist on McCitrick’s whole sales pitch.
“Yes, if need be. You remember your brief? ‘For Queen and country’, Ethan. Well, this is for ‘humanity and world’. Doesn’t get much bigger.”
McCitrick stood and began heading to the exit. “Follow me, there’s some people you should meet.”
Munroe also got up, but he remained where he was, and when McCitrick reached the door he turned around and raised his eyebrows. “What?”
“Why the name, DS5?”
McCitrick smiled. “It’s the Roman numeral for 5, ‘V’. It’s an acronym.”
“For what?”
“Disavowed, Ethan. It stands for the Disavowed. Because that’s exactly what we are.”