Vengeance 10

Himmler nodded, his pince-nez flashing in the autumn sunshine pouring through the windows. ‘I am afraid so.’

‘But why, in the name of God? The project is Germany’s best hope for winning — ‘

Himmler cut him off. ‘Normally I do not condescend to explain my actions,’ he snapped. ‘But as you have worked so hard, you do perhaps deserve that much. You are aware, no doubt, that heavy water is a vital ingredient of our atomic research programme?’ Without waiting for an answer, Himmler went on:

‘We obtain our supplies from the Norsk Hydroelectric Plant in Norway, or did until recently. This past spring Allied and Norwegian saboteurs succeeded in destroying the Rjukan facility. As a consequence, the Führer has, and quite rightly, removed all priority from atomic research. Therefore, even if your moon rocket were ready in time, it would be weaponless. No need, therefore, to continue with the monstrous expense the project entails.’

Bethwig was speechless; the last thing in the world he had expected was cancellation of the Lunar phase of the project. Himmler spread his hands. ‘I am sorry, but there is nothing I can do. The Führer himself has given the order.’

‘But.… but… the project, the lunar base does not need the atomic bomb to be successful.’ Bethwig tried to protest. ‘I explained that in the beginning. Any high explosive will have its destructive force magnified by the — ‘

‘Yes, yes.’ Himmler waved a hand. ‘A rock, a plain ordinary rock, would also have a great destructive force because of the speed with which it strikes the earth. I understand all that. However, my staff have conducted extensive economic studies and have concluded that the money would be better spent on a less cumbersome and cheaper system. Now, you recall I said only that the moon landing phase of the project has been curtailed. For one thing, your time estimates are far, far too optimistic. The war will have been won by the time your first rocket lands on the moon. However, if the project is returned to its original objective — that of launching massive quantities of high explosive against the eastern coast of the United States — the A-Ten rocket can, according to revised projections by my staff, be made ready by late 1944 or early 1945. The atomic bomb will not be needed, as thirty thousand kilograms of high explosive, which I am assured can be placed aboard these large rockets, will do the job, particularly when they strike in large numbers. American commitment to European wars has never been strong, and in any event, the moral fibre of the American nation is far too weak to withstand such a sustained bombing attack. In the meantime Professor von Braun’s A-Four rocket will be devastating England.’

‘But there is no sense, no reason, to cancel the lunar base phase. We are on schedule. In fact, we will test the fourth in the series, the final rocket, in two months. It will be launched into an orbit around the earth with…’

Himmler stood up, all traces of good humour now gone. ‘I have given you an order, Herr Doktor Bethwig. You will be good enough to carry it out.’ He picked up his cap and headed for the door.

‘We will talk further of the changes to be made in both the A-Ten and A-Four projects at this afternoon’s conference. I wanted you to be aware of the direction of my thinking so that you could prepare yourself accordingly.

‘I believe, sir, you owe me your utmost loyalty. I have quashed very serious charges against you, and against Doktor von Braun at your request. And at great personal expense I have taken it upon myself to see that this half-witted woman of whom you are so fond has been given the best possible care. Accordingly, I will tolerate no further outbursts or disagreements over my orders. Do I make myself entirely clear?’

Bethwig, still reeling from the casual announcement of the cancellation of the moon landing, could only nod. Himmler gave him a final stare and, without another word, left the office.

London October 1943

It has the feel of the last day of Indian summer, Jan Memling thought as he crossed Bayswater Road and sought, among the maze of streets north of Hyde Park, the address he had been given by Brigadier Simon-Benet the afternoon before. The sun burned down with unexpected heat, and a lazy stillness hung over the city. Traffic noises seemed distant, and here and there he could hear children laughing as they played. He was sweating in his wool uniform and feeling quite light-headed before he found the correct address in Norfolk Crescent.

From the outside it seemed like any other Victorian town house. The bombing had not devastated the West End as it had other parts of the city, and the area retained the feeling of ‘pre-war England’ which the papers were beginning to write about as if it had been a distant and shining time rather than the tail end of a worldwide depression.