The man shook his head. ‘Not yet, sir. But we have another high altitude flight scheduled as soon as the weather clears. The Yanks will be doing this one. We have to be careful, though. If Jerry gets the idea that we’re interested in the area, he’ll start taking precautions.’
‘Where was this taken?’
‘Place called Peenemunde. An island off the Baltic coast, near Stettin. Used to be a seaside resort before the war.’
Simon-Benet nodded as if the information were not unexpected. ‘Thank you, Squadron Leader. I assume that you have given this area the highest priority?’
‘Yes, sir. And we have initiated a review of past observations of the area.’
‘Very good. Keep me informed. That will be all.’
The brigadier motioned Memling into a chair as the squadron leader left.
‘You recognised the name of that island, sir?’
Simon-Benet nodded absently. ‘First heard of the place in 1939. A report appeared at our Oslo embassy just after the Nazis attacked Poland. Everyone thought it a plant.’ He sat down, still staring at the photograph. ‘How do you feel, Jan, now that you have been vindicated?’
Memling cocked his head at the unusual question. ‘It hadn’t yet occurred to me that I had,’ he answered stiffly.
The brigadier held up a hand. ‘Just pulling your leg, my boy. Didn’t expect it to come off in my hand. Look here, the name Peenemunde is familiar. For several months now, we’ve been getting reports through from various sources that something is going on up there. Civilians barred from the area, huge shipments of supplies and materials going in, a search through forced labour camps for scientific and technically trained types who are all then sent north. Tell you anything?’
Memling frowned. ‘Depends on how many of those people they are after, sir. If it’s only a few, it might not mean anything. But if it’s several hundred…’
‘Several thousand. And my sources believe it’s only the beginning. I might add that these sources are Polish. Their Armia Krajowa has been quite active in this area, as a good many of their POWs from 1939 have been sent to the labour camp at Peenemunde. Strange reports of flying torpedoes and such like have been coming through from the Baltic coastline for months. Seems they have been confirmed now.’
‘What’s the next step then, sir?’
The brigadier shrugged. ‘That may not be up to us. I’ve just had a meeting with our new boss. The Prime Minister is becoming concerned and has decided to formalise our little group. We are all now under the command of a gentleman named Duncan Sandys. Is the name familiar?’
Memling frowned. ‘Seems to be… but I can’t place it exactly.’
‘Well, Mr Sandys is, or was, joint parliamentary secretary for the Ministry of Supply. He does have two other qualifications that provide me with a degree of hope. He commanded an experimental rocket battery at Aberporth and he is Mr Churchill’s son-in-law. Perhaps we now have someone of sufficient stature to stand up to Lord Cherwell.’
Memling gave a low whistle. ‘And when did this all take place?’
‘Just the past few days. As I said, the government is beginning to take quite seriously the possibility that the Germans may indeed be developing long-range rockets. But until things clarify themselves, we must sit tight and see.’
Franz Bethwig studied the three faces and was struck by the way in which they delivered or received the news: the triumphant sallow face of Minister Gerhard Degenkolb, the apoplectic face of General Dornberger, and the thunderstruck countenance of Wernher von Braun.
Professor Hettlage cleared his throat timidly as if wanting to say something more, but Degenkolb signalled him to be quiet.
‘May I ask who suggested this insanity?’ Bethwig enquired politely.
Minister Degenkolb glared at him. ‘The suggestion came directly from Minister Speer. And I suggest that you modify your language appropriately or you may find yourself in very hot water, sir.’
Bethwig gave him a lazy smile. ‘You think so, do you?’
Dornberger intervened: ‘And why,’ he asked, voice barely under control, ‘did the minister suggest this course of action?’
Degenkolb glared once more at Bethwig before answering. ‘Minister Speer is most concerned with Reichsführer Himmler’s offer to employ Herr Doktors von Braun and Bethwig. Minister Speer is certain this is a first step towards assuming control of the Peenemunde facility, in spite of the good doctors’ persistent refusals. He felt that converting the entire Army Research Centre, Peenemunde, to a private stock company would circumvent the Reichsführer’s plans. I advise you to go along with him. Otherwise, you gentlemen’ — he glared at the two scientists — ‘will find yourselves in the employ of the SS, and you, sir’ — he addressed Dornberger — ‘will be seeking a new post!’
Dornberger waved a hand as if dismissing that possibility. ‘May I enquire how the change is intended to be made?’ Dornberger’s famed control seemed to be deserting him. Bethwig had never before heard such anger in his voice.