Vengeance 10

Simon-Benet hesitated. ‘So it was. But we need only to speak in generalities. Look here, you never did see eye to eye with old Englesby, did you?’

Surprised, Memling shook his head. ‘What has that got to do with…?’

‘Forget it. Not a question I should have asked. Except that it does explain a good bit. Look here, Memling. You were trained as an engineer. There is a notation in your MI-Six file that you were selected personally by the admiral for that reason. In spite of that fact, you were put on reserve status nearly two years ago and joined the Royal Marines. I’d like to know why?’

Memling looked stubborn. Simon-Benet watched him a moment, then said, ‘It could be quite important.’

‘I left,’ Memling replied in a reluctant voice, ‘because I felt there was little I could do to help the war effort sitting behind a desk reading German technical manuals already ten years out of date. No one paid any attention to my reports anyway. My wife had been killed in a bombing raid, and I felt I needed a bit of a change. I enlisted in the Royal Marines. Simple as that.’

The brigadier played with his glass a moment, then stared through the taped-up plate-glass window at the rain, which continued to slant down even though the cloud had broken to the west and blue sky was becoming visible.

‘I believe there was more to it than that, wasn’t there?’

Memling shrugged. ‘‘I’m not sure I…’

‘But you do. You returned from Belgium with what you saw as vital information which was totally ignored. You knew that the people who helped you get out were killed, and then you discovered that your wife had died in the blitz. On top of that, a departmental enquiry into your activities in Belgium did not give you a clean bill. It was at that point you joined the Royal Marines where, in view of your reserve status with the Firm, you were commissioned and sent to Home Army Intelligence. You wangled your way into the commandos and have since taken part in several raiding expeditions.’ Simon-Benet gave him a quick grin. ‘Would you say that forms an accurate summary of your career to date?’

Memling had listened with a growing dislike for the brigadier. ‘Yes, sir, that is correct.’

‘In that case’ — Simon-Benet gave him an appraising look — ‘a bit more detail is in order, I think.

‘In 1938 you were sent to Germany. You met a man named Wernher von Braun. How well did you know him?’

‘Wernher?’ Memling looked at Simon-Benet in surprise. ‘You have been doing some digging, haven’t you!’ When the brigadier did not react, he went on. ‘I met Wernher von Braun in Paris in 1934. I was still at school then and interested in rocketry. I had saved all that year to attend a congress on rocket development. Von Braun was a member of the German Society for Space Travel and about my age. I suppose we became friendly because most of the others attending were dabblers and fantasists.’

‘And you two were not?’

Memling frowned. ‘Yes, we were. But we were also realists in the sense that we knew it would not happen unless we were willing to acquire the proper training. I dare say Wernher had learned that lesson sooner than I. In any event, we struck up a friendship that continued by correspondence.

‘Our letters were infrequent and after 1936 stopped altogether. The following year I joined MI-Six and soon had to give up my position in the British Interplanetary Society for, well.… other reasons.’

‘You did not correspond with, or see, von Braun from 1936 to 1938?’

‘No. And then strictly by accident. We just happened to be staying at the same hotel. We had dinner that night, and he introduced me to a colleague, a… Franz something or other.’

‘Bethwig,’ Simon-Benet supplied.

‘Yes, that’s the name. I next saw von Braun in 1940 at the arms factory in Liege.’

Simon-Benet sipped his tea. ‘Both times you made reports concerning Germany’s research on long-range rockets?’

‘Yes. I assume they are in the files somewhere.’

‘The first was, yes. The second seemed to have been misplaced. Carelessness, I was told when it was finally found.’

Memling grinned. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised. The start of the war caught the old bureaucracy at Northumberland Avenue by surprise. I doubt they have adapted to it yet.’

‘They haven’t,’ the brigadier replied wryly. He paused, as if arranging his thoughts. ‘At the moment I am assigned a special task, that of co-ordinating information concerning Germany’s scientific and technical progress in one particular field, that of rocket research.’ ‘I’ll be damned.’

The brigadier ignored him. ‘I put my staff to searching for further information among various Allied intelligence agencies, and bits and pieces began to crop up, especially from Polish intelligence.’

‘Polish intelligence?’ Memling murmured in surprise. ‘Why ever in the world would they be interested in rockets?’