Chapter 181: The Fence Sitter Removed
After Germany's secret telegram was sent to Spain, the Spanish branch of the Internal and External Intelligence Department, which had been operating quietly for nearly a year, began to move.
One week later, in Toledo, Franco sensed the storm gathering over Madrid.
Now was the best time to join the Spanish Forward Party.
Judging from the attitude of the Spanish Communist Party, they were already prepared to fight to the death. Once the cannons roared, everyone in Spain would be forced to choose a side.
Naturally, Franco could not stand with the Spanish Communist Party.
Between the Falange and the Spanish Forward Party, joining the Spanish Forward Party was clearly the best choice.
That raised another question.
How could he make the Spanish Forward Party nominate him?
Franco had already made his plans.
He intended to eliminate José.
José would become the spark that lit the bomb. But Franco would never do it with his own hands. He wanted the Spanish Communist Party, or more precisely Soviet Russia, to carry out the assassination for him.
For this purpose, he had deliberately assigned a man who had infiltrated Soviet Russia's intelligence network within the army to serve as his personal adjutant.
Franco glanced casually at the adjutant refilling his tea.
Then, with the air of a superior handling an important private matter, he ordered the man to leave.
Only after the adjutant withdrew did Franco pick up the telephone and dial José's private number.
Despite his contempt for that useless man, Franco's voice became respectful the moment the call connected.
"How have you been, sir? Are you still in Madrid?"
"One moment, Franco."
José's voice came through the receiver, accompanied by the crisp sound of cards being played.
After a brief pause, José returned to the telephone.
"You haven't contacted me in quite some time, Franco. I almost thought you had forgotten your old superior."
His tone became cheerful.
"How is your consideration about joining the Spanish Forward Party coming along?"
Franco smiled faintly.
"Is there still any need to consider? The Spanish Forward Party's victory in the election is already a foregone conclusion. Even if I do not join, am I not still your soldier?"
Hearing this, José immediately beamed.
He ignored the questioning glances of the two German intelligence officers beside him, picked up a glass of champagne, and walked toward the top floor of the villa.
"Where are you now?"
"Toledo, sir. I originally wanted to fly over to see you, but with the latest budget cuts, I cannot even afford a new private aircraft."
José laughed.
"That is no problem. I will send a plane to pick you up. Franco, many old friends are here waiting to see you."
"What model is your aircraft?" Franco asked lightly. "I would not want to accidentally shoot down your beloved plane."
"It is a Junkers Ju 52 civilian transport aircraft given to me by the Germans. I will notify them to fly over at once. This large fellow performs much better than the Italian planes."
Franco silently memorized the information, then changed the subject as if by accident.
"Never mind, sir. Madrid is not very safe. I think major changes may occur soon. Why not fly to El Ferrol instead? That is my old territory."
The other end of the line fell silent.
José drained the champagne in his glass.
"You are right, Franco. Those Germans said the same thing."
He clicked his tongue.
"You know, they are practically my nannies now. They always want to stick close to my side."
Then he made his decision.
"Very well. I will see you in El Ferrol."
The call ended.
Franco pretended to tuck the note containing the aircraft information into the pages of a book. Then he walked out of the room, leaving the spy behind to do his work.
After leaving the office, Franco went straight to his residence in Toledo.
His trusted aide had been waiting there.
"Sir, do you have any orders?"
"Is the plane refueled?"
"Yes, sir. The aircraft was recently purchased from Germany, and we sent people to inspect it beforehand. There are no problems."
The aide added, "The pilot is also trustworthy."
Franco nodded, but the unease in his heart did not disappear.
"Prepare two planes. Fill both with fuel. I will decide when I reach the airfield."
"Yes, sir."
The car sped through Toledo.
Ten minutes later, a conspicuous vehicle appeared on the runway of the military airfield.
Two planes were parked in front of Franco.
One was a Junkers Ju 52 transport aircraft purchased from Germany.
The other was a well maintained Ford 5 AT C transport aircraft, old but still in excellent appearance.
Franco stood in front of them for a while.
After some thought, he boarded the brand new Junkers Ju 52.
His trusted aide followed closely, closed the cabin door, and ordered the pilot, "To El Ferrol."
The pilot checked the instruments, confirmed the readings, and nodded.
"Yes, sir."
Soon, the engines started.
The loud roar forced Franco to cover his ears. As the landing gear retracted, the plane climbed into the clear blue sky and circled over the airfield.
It was rare good weather.
The sky was clean, bright, and almost gentle.
Yet Franco felt no exhilaration from the view.
Instead, a faint unease spread through him. At first, it was only a shadow in his chest. Very quickly, it sharpened and began cutting at his mind like a dull knife.
His instincts, tempered by years of war and politics, suddenly screamed.
"Land immediately."
The pilot looked back in surprise.
Franco's voice rose.
"Quickly. Land now."
Although the pilot did not understand the order, he obeyed his superior's command.
The Junkers Ju 52, which had been airborne for less than fifteen minutes, began preparing to return.
At first, every operation went smoothly.
But when the pilot tried to adjust for descent, his expression changed.
The landing gear would not deploy.
Worse, the control stick was jammed.
"No..."
The pilot's face turned pale.
"How is this possible? It was fine just now."
He pushed the control stick with all his strength, but the aircraft's speed did not fall. Instead, it continued to rise. Even the direction could no longer be adjusted properly.
Franco's trusted aides also realized that something was wrong.
They grabbed parachutes and rushed toward the cabin door, trying desperately to open it.
But the door seemed as if it had been nailed shut. It did not move at all.
"Shoot it open," someone shouted. "Break the lock with bullets."
It was a foolish suggestion.
But in a cabin where death was already pressing against every man's throat, foolishness could sound like hope.
The aide drew his pistol and pressed the muzzle against the lock.
Bang!
The bullet failed to penetrate the lock. Instead, it ricocheted and pierced the fuel tank.
That single shot turned danger into disaster.
Fuel began leaking, but the aide did not notice. Panicked, he continued firing at the cabin door, punching more holes through the fuel tank.
By the time he finally kicked the door open, it was too late.
Without fuel, the aircraft began falling uncontrollably.
The airframe shook violently, then tore apart under the strain.
When it crashed, only twisted wreckage remained.
The news reached El Ferrol and entered the ears of Colonel Cayato, one of Franco's loyal subordinates.
But Cayato did not notify the government.
Instead, he contacted right wing former aristocratic military officers in Ronda and Morocco who had close ties with Franco.
He suppressed the news for two days.
During that time, he discovered that the personal adjutant Franco had kept nearby was a Soviet Russian spy.
Connecting that fact to the Spanish Communist Party, Cayato made his decision.
He leaked the news to the Spanish Forward Party and conveyed his desire to join them.
Two days earlier, Deco Sabu had already received news from Toledo.
Standing before José, he skillfully recounted the matter as an attempt by the Spanish Communist Party to assassinate high ranking military officers in preparation for a larger purge.
As expected, José believed him.
When he recalled Franco's warning during their conversation that Madrid was very dangerous, he no longer hesitated.
He did not even stop for dinner.
José quickly gathered a group of right wing politicians and explained that the situation had reached an irreversible point. He then conveyed his intention to carry out a military takeover before the Spanish Communist Party could strike first.
Escorted by members of the Internal and External Intelligence Department, he swiftly arrived at the suburban airport, preparing to head for the military base in El Ferrol.
Sabu followed closely beside him, never leaving him for even a moment.
Together, they went straight into the hangar.
.....
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