The Reich Device (28 page)

‘Then we need to get a specialist in this area to help,’ Dornberger reflected.

‘There are no specialists really. There’s Mayer of course, and… ’ Steinhoff racked his brains trying to think of another scientist who might be able to solve the riddle. ‘… Einstein? What about Einstein?’ Steinhoff smiled.

‘That’s rather difficult. He is living overseas now. How would we get him to come back here?’ Dornberger was aware of the high profile Einstein was now getting in England and America for his work on atomic physics.

‘He is the only one who can solve this problem; besides, he worked with Mayer. They are friends,’ indicated Steinhoff.

The conversation was going nowhere. There was no hope of attracting Einstein back to Germany. He had made thinly veiled hostile remarks about the human rights record of the Reich to the media in the USA. It was clear that Einstein would not come to Peenemünde voluntarily. Dornberger tried a different tact.

‘You mentioned a second line of enquiry?’

‘Yes, the other is the structure of the device. Professor Mayer mentioned something about carbon structures, and electric fields.’ Steinhoff was struggling to keep his report optimistic. ‘We have done some research into carbon-based materials and their properties in electric fields. Every schoolboy knows that the graphite in your pencils is made of mostly pure carbon, and that it will conduct electricity, but there’s no logic as to how or why these properties might be used in a propulsion device.’

‘What about other forms of carbon?’ asked Dornberger.

‘The only other crystalline form of carbon of any significance is diamond – and that’s as hard as nails and chemically stable – unreactive.’ Steinhoff had to concede failure. ‘I cannot make this carbon without Mayer!’

Progress on the device was at a dead end.

Colonel Dornberger stood to attention in the Admiralty office of the Reich Chancellery, while Dönitz eagerly opened his report.

‘It looks like good progress… ’ Dönitz nodded with satisfaction as he scanned the first few pages. ‘Colonel, sorry, where are my manners… please, be seated.’

Dönitz waited until his guest was duly seated, then looked at Dornberger.

‘So Colonel, the Führer wants to know about his
Vergeltungswaffe
– the vengeance weapon is almost ready? Tell me about the payload. How much explosive can it carry?’

‘Our test flights have improved the payload. Now, in theory, more than one thousand kilograms,’ Dornberger replied.

‘You have done well it seems; this should keep the Führer happy. What is the blast radius of the weapon now?’

‘The payload will detonate on contact with the ground. The immediate explosion will flatten everything within one hundred metres, and the shockwave that follows will cause damage for hundreds of metres around the epicentre.’

‘I see… Herr Hitler is thinking about offensive uses of this weapon. If the weapon was used on the battlefield, how effective could it be?’

Dornberger paused before replying, imagining an explosion on open ground amongst a line of troops, with armour.

‘If the weapon was detonated amongst an advancing column it would cause devastation. The blast would penetrate armour, destroying tanks and other vehicles. The shockwave would shatter internal organs and burst eardrums. Any troops in the proximity would take heavy casualties and be incapacitated.’

Dornberger could barely imagine the horror. He continued. ‘Do you think the Führer would actually sanction the use of such a weapon against troops on the ground?’ He shook his head in despair.

‘Perhaps I can persuade the Reich Chancellor to keep the weapon for defence, but I doubt it, he has already made up his mind. He wants the capability to attack other cities in Europe, especially London, and wants to target the Americans too.’

‘This is madness! There are no substantive forces that could threaten Germany’s borders to justify the use of such a weapon, at least not yet!’

‘I know, I know… ’ Dönitz rubbed his forehead. ‘… Let’s hope the Führer only uses it as a political deterrent to prevent the British and Americans from interfering in our European affairs.’

‘And if he doesn’t? What then?’ Dornberger struggled to conceal his revulsion. He had built this weapon for defence, not for assault on civilian population centres. ‘The rocket can fly at several hundred miles per hour, and could reach London in less than an hour, depending on the location of the launch site.’ He paused; at least that part was true. ‘However, dare we tell Herr Hitler that we are still refining the flight controls so that we can precisely target the rocket? The reality is that we still have more test flights to do.’

‘We need to be pragmatic… ’ Dönitz drummed his fingers on the document, ‘… the report needs to show some progress on the guidance system and the range of the rockets, but I am reluctant to include any suggestions about the targeting of civilian population centres.’

‘I couldn’t agree more… ’ Dornberger looked gloomily at the Admiral.

Dönitz looked at Dornberger. ‘What of America? The Führer will ask. What are the prospects of developing a weapon that can hit the Americans?’

‘No, not yet. This would require a bigger rocket with more fuel, or a better propulsion system,’ Dornberger was certain.

‘That brings us neatly to the other matter… ’ Dönitz lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘The Führer asks about progress on the… well… shall we say… other device?’ Dönitz glanced around the room as if looking for conspirators.

Dornberger spoke in a harsh whisper. ‘My report indicates that we have several lines of investigation, but the technology is very advanced and we do not yet fully understand the concept of how it works. Professor Mayer hides many secrets inside his head. He is still in a coma.’

‘Please understand, the Führer is
totally obsessed
with this new device,’ Dönitz hissed back. ‘Christ! He says this is a super weapon beyond compare and we are to gather the finest minds in Germany to solve the problem!’

‘The finest minds in Germany
are already
gathered!’ Dornberger countered.

‘I know, I know… I tried to explain… but that’s no good. He wants Professor Mayer – and if that’s not possible he wants Professor Mayer’s friend –
he wants
Einstein!’

Dornberger sat in stunned silence at the news. Staring into space, Dornberger finally spoke.

‘But… but… I don’t understand… I mean… how? Einstein is a figure of international standing. He has spoken out, at least in a roundabout way, against National Socialism. He will not come to Germany of his own free will.’ Abduction was unthinkable. Dornberger was sure he had misunderstood.

Dönitz closed the file and folded his arms, his gaze firmly fixed on Dornberger. ‘I am afraid it is out of my hands. Herr Hitler has already given instructions to the SS. Einstein is to be repatriated to Germany at
any
cost.’

O
liver Heinkel drove slowly through the quiet, leafy suburbs of Oxford. Even in the darkness the pleasantly arranged Georgian houses exuded tranquillity, the sort of place one could raise a family. Oxford had become popular with the middle classes, being only a short commute to London. It was also the temporary residence of Albert Einstein. The Leipzig office had issued him with a travel permit. Einstein was renting a house while he was on sabbatical in Oxford for some physics event at the University. It was all very convenient.

Heinkel checked his watch, everything was on schedule. He peered into the hedgerows and picket fences, looking for signs of anything out of the ordinary – nothing. He turned right into Einstein’s street, cruising at a steady speed. There were no celebrity mansions, just more slices of the idyllic suburban dream.

He drove past the front gate. There were no obvious signs of security, and no policeman on the doorstep, but that didn’t mean anything. British intelligence were adept at hiding in plain sight. The place could be crawling with agents.

He made another right turn, and drove around the block; satisfied with the reconnaissance, it was time to go on foot. He parked the Jaguar under a leafy tree, choosing a spot next to a mature garden that offered plenty of cover, and turned the engine off. He sat in silence, his heart raced a little. It was an honour to be personally selected by Dr Goebbels for this special task.

He checked his dark clothing again for labels, and then weighed the Webley revolver in his hand. It felt clunky and unbalanced, but would do the job. The superior engineering of the German Sauher 38 automatic pistol was preferable, but the forensics situation dictated that there could be no trace of any German involvement. He holstered the British weapon, and stepped out of the car.

Nothing moved on the street.

He pulled up his black raincoat, and detoured back around the block.

Einstein’s place was close to the river with good tree cover. He moved cautiously through the trees, following the curve of one of the narrow footpaths. The sound of a train’s whistle echoed in the distance; the occasional flash of car headlights lanced into the tree line. The chug of a canal boat faded along the waterway, leaving only the heavy night air for company.

Suddenly, the sound of twigs snapping and rustling in undergrowth broke the silence. Heinkel levelled his weapon: a fox. He eased off the trigger and, taking a crouching position, he listened – nothing. He moved forward slowly, searching for targets with his weapon.

The tree line abruptly stopped and was replaced by a thicket of rhododendrons, demarcating the back garden of Einstein’s rented property. He worked his way through the bushes, taking up a position behind a convenient rhododendron stump with a good view of the lawn. He sat, breathing calmly, with his mouth open and ear titled towards the ground. A maple tree grew at the side of the house, obscuring most of the street lighting. Mature shrubs encircled the entire garden, with sections overgrowing onto the porch. He scanned the shadows looking for movement.

Silence.

He moved his eyes up onto the roof of the house, following left to right, systematically checking each window all the way to the ground floor. The house was in relative darkness, apart from the small glow of a lamp coming from the study on the ground floor. A dark-haired figure sat at a desk. It had to be Einstein.

Heinkel checked the chamber on his Webley; then rubbed some dirt on his face to dull his complexion. Suitably blacked up, he circled through the rhododendrons, heading for the path at the side of the house. A branch cracked underfoot. He froze, then moved his weapon in a steady arc, but there was no target. He moved off, breathing gently, easing his footing with each step to minimise the noise.

He edged carefully along the side of the garden, emerging onto the footpath at the corner of the house; hidden from view, but only a few feet away from the rear porch. He peered around the corner. A wicker chair sat at the far end of the porch. The glow of the lamplight broke the shadows on the wooden decking. Heinkel moved carefully onto the wooden steps, his weapon at eye level, tensing on the trigger. The boards creaked; instinctively he rolled the ball of his foot with each step to ease the load on the planks. Inching along like a black ghost, Heinkel made for his target.

He reached the back door. He leant his back against the wall and tried the handle. The door eased open with a barely audible squeak of the hinges. He rolled into the doorway, weapon trained down the hall – nothing.

He moved forward, checking the open door to his right – a dining room – all clear. He edged down the hall to the kitchen, weapon scanning for targets – all clear. Satisfied, Heinkel moved back up the hall to the study door. A slit of light shone under the door. He eased the door open, weapon up, and moved silently into the room.

Einstein puffed on his pipe, literally contemplating the universe, lost in his thoughts. He would have scarcely noticed a herd of elephants charging into the study, never mind a trained assassin.

Einstein stirred, as the cold steel of the revolver penetrated his thoughts.

‘Good evening Professor Einstein.’ Heinkel pushed the nozzle of the revolver into the back of Einstein’s head.

‘Who are you?’ Einstein remained calm. ‘Have you come to kill me?’

Heinkel was surprised by the response. Usually his victim would be in a flap, big time, but not Einstein.

‘No I am not here to kill you, are you alone?’ Heinkel already knew the answer, but wanted to judge the temperament of his new friend.

‘Alone? What is it to be alone? Are you alone?’ Einstein replied quietly.

‘Your services are required Professor – in Germany.’

‘Service to Germany? What possible use can I be?’

Heinkel lowered his weapon. It was worth trying the softly, softly approach. ‘Professor, I do not know. I am just the messenger, and I am asking you to come to Berlin,’ he lied.

‘Berlin? No, I cannot go there. I am morally bound by my ethical stance. Freedom and the sanctity of human life.’ Einstein paused. ‘No I cannot go back to Berlin, at least not now.’

‘I understand, but you can do a great service to the German people.’

‘If only that were true. I fear that any service I might give would go towards supporting a morally corrupt regime. Thank you for the invitation, but I am afraid I will decline.’ Einstein remained perfectly calm.

‘I am sorry Professor.’ Heinkel waved the revolver. ‘This is not really an invitation. You must come with me.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, now.’ He pressed the gun against Einstein’s chest.

Einstein shuffled to his feet.

‘Do I have time to pack?’

Heinkel was mildly amused by the bumbling Professor. ‘No, we leave now.’

‘At least let me get my coat and lock the door.’

Heinkel nodded in agreement. A missing coat and a locked house would suggest the Professor had gone for a walk and failed to return. The police would waste days searching the riverbanks.

Einstein calmly put on his overcoat and locked the door. Both men stood on the porch.

‘This way.’ Heinkel pointed the gun in the direction of the back lawn. Einstein moved off, walking calmly across the grass.