The Reich Device

by Richard D. Handy

  ‘I… who… what?’

  He pushed the gun deeper into the matted scalp. ‘Silence! Do not be alarmed. You must simply do as I ask, when I ask. Nod if you understand.’

  The scientist nodded slowly.

  ‘Good, I am glad we understand each other. Now, turn around slowly, but keep your hands where I can see them.’

  The scientist swivelled slowly on the laboratory stool, hands in the air. Thick-rimmed glasses, and a pockmarked face stared back. Heinkel estimated the creature was in her late twenties. Obviously a laboratory assistant working late, but would she have access to the materials and documents he needed?

  ‘I understand this is the Rocket Science Laboratory, and Dr Robert Goddard used to work here?’ Heinkel waved the forty-five.

  ‘Yes… yes it is. I… I… worked for Dr Goddard… ’

  ‘That’s good, in that case you should be able to help me. Where are Goddard’s notebooks?’

  The assistant gulped, trying to keep her hands in the air. ‘He… he took them with him… when he left.’

  ‘You say you worked for Goddard?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you will have your own notes of the work?’

  She nodded slowly. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  The scientist titled her head stiffly towards the drawers at the end of her bench, hands still in the air.

  ‘On your feet, get them.’

  He shoved the assistant forward, driving the gun into the small of her back for good measure.

  She opened the top draw, producing some moth-eaten hardback notebooks.

  He gestured with the gun. She squeezed the pile of books onto the end of the bench. He flipped open the first notebook; it was full of scrawled numbers and equations. ‘Tell me about these documents.’

  ‘They’re just my everyday work on Goddard’s project.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Err… err… ’ The assistant closed her eyes.

  Heinkel cocked the mechanism of the forty-five. ‘Answer the question, be specific.’

  ‘A record of my work for the last three years. Notes and calculations on several topics.’

  ‘What topics exactly?’

  Beads of sweat dripped down the assistant’s forehead. Her mind screamed in terror as she fought for clarity. ‘I… I have worked on fuel tank design, the oxygen mixing in the fuel lines, manifolds for the blending of the fuel and its burn time during flight.’

  Heinkel raised the weapon, pressing the muzzle of the forty-five into her forehead. ‘Now I have another question… ’ He took a sheet of paper from his jacket pocket, one of the sketches from the Patent Office. ‘Tell me, did Goddard make this?’

  The scientist peered at the diagram, adjusting her glasses as she squinted. ‘It’s an injector manifold. Yes, it’s Dr Goddard’s design.’

  Heinkel pressed the weapon home again. ‘But has it been made? Do you have it here?’

  ‘No… no… not exactly, only an earlier prototype.’

  ‘Where?’ He jolted the forty-five.

  ‘Please, please! It’s… it’s on my bench!’

  He gestured with the pistol. The assistant got the message and rummaged around on the bench, eventually producing a small but heavy component about the size of a grapefruit.

  He took the weight of the flanged object and turned it over in his hand. ‘Do you have other similar components?’

  ‘No, Dr Goddard took them with him.’

  He examined the expression on the assistant’s face. The steady flicker of the eyes, the constriction of the pupils, and the submissive tilt to the head – she was telling the truth.

  He crammed the metal object into his jacket pocket, and waved the assistant back to her stool.

  ‘Sit.’

  She complied.

  ‘Now, I must be leaving.’

  ‘Please, please… don’t hurt me.’ Tears streamed silently from under her glasses. Her hands shook as she struggled to keep them in the air.

  Heinkel gave a neutral expression, and holstered the forty-five. ‘I am not going to shoot you.’

  The assistant sagged in relief on the stool, sobbing openly.

  Suddenly, he grabbed a handful of greasy hair, forcing her head back. He pulled a knife from his back pocket. The assistant snorted, bubbles of snot mixed with the tears; she clenched her teeth, chest heaving for air.

  He shoved the knife hard into her gullet, twisting the blade to hasten death. The blade jolted against sinew and bone, crunching on the resistance of the cervical column.

  The assistant gargled, eyes pleading, arms clawing at Heinkel’s chest.

  He held firm, locking his victim against the laboratory stool. He gave a final nudge of the blade. The knife slipped deeper, severing the spinal cord.

  The body went limp.

  He propped the corpse against the bench. Blood pulsed onto the worktop from the neck wound. He wiped his knife clean on the edge of the laboratory coat, then turned to pick up the notebooks and headed for the door.

  CHAPTER 13

  German Rocket Programme

  Commandant Kessler reported to the front gate of the Armaments Corps in the small village of Kummersdorf, a few miles south of Berlin. Kummersdorf was the traditional headquarters of the German artillery regiments and had been since the days of horse-drawn cannons in the eighteenth century. Things were a little different now with mechanised heavy artillery, but all the same, Kummersdorf was known in military circles for its big guns.

  It also had a more clandestine role as the home for military research into ballistics and new rocket technology.

  Kessler stretched his legs in front of the guard house, thankful to be out of the armoured car. He stared absently at the mini convoy; the armoured car sandwiched between two military support vehicles bristling with machine guns. That was all fine, but damned slow and uncomfortable.

  At least the decoy had worked. The decision to send Mayer by road had been the right one.

  Kessler checked his watch. ‘How much longer? You’ve had our papers for some ten minutes now!’

  The sentry smiled apologetically, telephone in hand. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting Commandant, an escort from the main building will pick you up shortly.’

  ‘As you can see, we have our own escort. Can’t you just open the gate?’

  ‘Sorry sir, visitors are not allowed to drive around the camp unescorted. My orders are no exceptions. I am very sorry, sir.’

  ‘Just tell the camp commander I am here!’ Kessler stamped off, and began pacing up and down in front of the main gate. At least the security measures seemed tight. He scanned the fence line – brand new, with fresh barbed wire along the top – someone had been investing in the place. Another two-man patrol sporting a German shepherd approached. The patrol moved purposely along the inside of the fence. It was only five minutes since the last walk-by. The dog barked and bared its teeth. Kessler flinched as the handler gave a stern voice command to silence the beast. German shepherds were proving to be obedient and reliable animals – Herr Hitler’s favourite breed – and readily adopted by the army at the Führer’s request.

  Kessler lit up a smoke. Inhaling, he strolled in front of the main gate. The click-clack of a heavy-calibre machine gun being cocked greeted him. He nodded a smile at the nearest machine gun nest, and took another drag on his cigarette. A second heavy weapon cocked to his left. He gave another nervous grin; with bunkers on either side of the gate, the short approach road could be hosed down in seconds.

  The sudden rumble of a three-ton truck announced the arrival of the escort. The truck swung round in a U-turn just inside the gate, bellowing diesel fumes, then stopped, with the engine still running.

  A trooper scrambled down from the cab, and after ducking under the barrier, he snapped to attention.

  ‘Commandant Kessler, I am to escort your convoy to main complex. If you could follow me… and err… sorry sir… no smoking… the aviation fuel you understand.’r />
  Kessler took a final drag on his cigarette and climbed back into his vehicle as the escort waved the barrier open.

  There was some open ground just inside the gate, and then another internal perimeter fence – a killing ground with a clear arc of fire – any intruder would be picked off easily. Anyone trying to escape would suffer the same fate. Kessler smiled to himself.

  All this to house Professor Mayer?

  Perhaps the Professor was much more important than he had originally thought? His orders were to deliver the Professor intact to Kummersdorf, so here they were.

  The convoy trundled on for several hundred metres across more open ground – part of the artillery field – before arriving at a block of concrete buildings. Kessler’s men were relieved from duty, and headed for the mess room for a well-earned break of bread, sausage and hot tea. Kessler and the Professor followed two smartly dressed soldiers into a long, box-like, new art-deco style of building. The walls were constructed of re-enforced concrete, painted white, and the building itself was sunk behind some earthworks. All built to withstand explosions, as well as the day-to-day rumblings of the artillery range. Kessler noted more sentry posts around the building.

  Inside, the decor was plain and utilitarian, just like any other military base, but a transformation took place on entering the camp commander’s office. His room was neatly decorated with wallpaper, plush drapes, and an ornate desk with symbolic flags of the Nazi Party perched on each corner. A picture of Adolf Hitler adorned the wall. An authentic Persian rug covered the floor. It was all tastefully done, and at some expense. Kessler approached the desk and snapped his heels in the Nazi salute.

  ‘Commandant Kessler reporting, sir.’

  The camp commander, Colonel Walter Dornberger, rose to his feet, crisply dressed in Nazi uniform.

  ‘Welcome Commandant, I trust you had a good journey.’ Articulate and very well educated, Dornberger was the real deal: a PhD in rocket science, with an illustrious career. He had already worked on several secret projects at the personal request of the Führer, including liquid fuels and rocket technology for the Reichswehr, the ballistics section of the German Army. His work marked a new milestone – rockets that exceeded the range and explosive power of all the current artillery technology. Test flights had already been conducted at Kummersdorf, the so-called Raketenflugplatz had been a huge success. In fact, Dornberger was now in charge of the entire army’s weapons department (the Heereswaffenamt).

  ‘… and welcome Professor Mayer.’ Dornberger smiled and nodded in the Professor’s direction. After all, he was a fellow scientist. ‘Professor, I expect you are wondering why I have brought you here?’

  Mayer shrugged. ‘I was happy at the University of Leipzig. I have a position there and an active research group.’

  ‘No matter, you are here now with many of your colleagues, and you have a duty to perform for Germany!’ Dornberger grinned. ‘I read your work on high octane fuel; most impressive!’

  ‘My work is not finished. I need to get back to Leipzig… ’ Mayer lowered his gaze to the floor.

  Dornberger put on a friendly face. ‘Alas, you need to forget about Leipzig. At least for a while. This is your home now, and there is much new work to be done! We have a fantastic programme! I am hoping you will join us.’

  ‘What programme?’ Mayer looked up, genuinely curious.

  ‘Physics of course! Your research! We are both rocket men are we not? Anyway, how thoughtless of me! You must be tired after your long journey.’ Dornberger snapped his fingers and, as if from nowhere, an orderly appeared.

  Kessler sensed that Dornberger was being evasive, and wasn’t going to answer any question about rocket technology. Perhaps that was no surprise; Kessler didn’t have security clearance; at least not yet.

  ‘There is a bunk for the Professor in number three barrack, please see to it… ’ The orderly saluted and scurried off with the Professor in tow, leaving Kessler alone with the Colonel.

  ‘Colonel, I have some items to report… some news… ’

  ‘Speak freely Commandant… ’ The Colonel waved his arm in a sweeping gesture as he lit a cigarette.

  ‘I think you already know about the break-in at Leipzig University… well actually, at Professor Mayer’s office.’

  ‘Not really, only that there was a break-in. What was stolen exactly?’

  ‘Technical documents of some kind, I am not really sure, yet. The intruder was sloppy though, he dropped a couple of pages on his way out of the window.’

  Dornberger stubbed out his cigarette prematurely.

  ‘What?! On his way out the window! What on earth has been going on in Leipzig!? Did you catch this thief… this intruder?’

  ‘Unfortunately… no… it was dark and the intruder slipped away… but… ’

  ‘This could be significant.’ Dornberger wagged a finger in the air. ‘The Reich has many enemies, and we like to keep our security tight here. It’s a strange coincidence that this theft took place on the same day that orders were sent from Berlin to collect the Professor… ’ Dornberger let the thought hang for a while. ‘… It could be a simple coincidence, or perhaps the telegram was intercepted?’

  ‘Interception is not possible in Leipzig, the secure telegraph is inside our headquarters. I’ve already checked it myself.’

  ‘Then Berlin perhaps?’ speculated the Colonel.

  ‘I have personal responsibility for the Führer’s safety, and if there is a security leak in the telegraph office in Berlin, I will find it. It will be one of several checks on our communications systems.’

  ‘Good, good, keep me informed on the investigation. Where are the papers you recovered? Do you have them?’

  Kessler swallowed. ‘Unfortunately… no, not any longer… there was an explosion on the train to Berlin… and the pages were taken.’

  ‘What?! Explosion?! Taken?! How is this possible?!’

  ‘The train was secure and well protected. I used some of our best men. A small explosion in one of the goods cars diverted attention, and within seconds an assailant was on me – a professional, highly trained – some kind of assassin or spy is my guess.’

  ‘Assassin? Are you sure?’

  ‘It was clearly planned in advance, the assassin knew exactly where to find us and when to strike.’

  Dornberger shook his head. ‘More evidence that communications between Berlin and Leipzig are breached.’

  Kessler ignored the remark. ‘He went straight for the papers.’

  ‘Not after the Professor then?’

  ‘No… I don’t think so… if this man was here to assassinate the Professor he could have done that at any time in Leipzig. Besides, what for? No, he was after the documents.’

  ‘Was this man a European? Did he speak?’

  ‘Yes, white at least. Maybe American, could be the English.’

  ‘So, a spy from the West is in our midst… then there is no time to lose, we need to find out what is so interesting about Professor Mayer’s work that draws the attention of this spy. Find the security breach, and find it quickly.’

  ‘Of course, Colonel, I will leave immediately, will that be all?’

  ‘Yes, yes, please carry on.’ Dornberger sank into his chair, rubbing his brow. There was so much to do, and so little time.

  Kessler snapped to attention and headed for the door.

  Professor Mayer sat on the edge of his wooden bunk, staring aimlessly into space. Was everything lost? Kessler had found the draft manuscript, or at least some of it. The last two pages! But where was the final version? Still hidden under the bookcase?

  Mayer slumped. With his head in his hands, he mumbled to himself. ‘Albert… I am sorry… so sorry… it’s all my fault. You are in danger… everyone is in danger… ’ The stump of his little finger throbbed. Mayer shivered and tried to switch his mind to more positive things.

  The barrack room door suddenly swung up, and in walked a familiar face.

  ‘Professor Hans Von
Reichter! Hans, you are here too! I am so pleased to see you my friend!’ Suddenly beaming, Mayer was up from his bunk.

  ‘Gustav, you are here too? It’s good to see you!’ They shook hands. ‘What happened to your hand?’ Von Reichter saw the fresh bandage.

  ‘An accident… ’ Mayer changed the subject. ‘Hans, you are still working at the Technical University in Berlin? Still working on… what did you call it? Electronics. The new electrical control system for rockets? Why are we here? How many others are here? What is going on?’ Mayer fired questions.

  ‘Take it easy, take it easy… I will try to explain. There is much to discuss.’ Von Reichter gestured for them to sit. The two men huddled on the edge of Mayer’s bunk.

  Von Reichter spoke quietly. ‘Well, what can I say? I have only been here a few days myself,’ he glanced around the room before continuing, ‘I was working happily in my office at the Technical University, when Colonel Dornberger arrived unannounced. He said that he was heading up a special research project and needed my expertise on guidance systems for some new projectiles.’

  ‘What do you make of Dornberger?’

  ‘Well, he’s not one of those National Socialist thugs… I think he’s like us; just a scientist trying to make the best of the situation.’

  Mayer gave a sigh of relief.

  Von Reichter continued. ‘Anyway, it seemed a good chance for me to get involved in a new project. After all, Kummersdorf is only a few miles south of the city and within easy distance of my home. Dornberger indicated that the budget for the project had no limit, and that my work would be funded indefinitely!’ He grinned like a schoolboy in a sweet shop; then, his face soured. ‘It wasn’t until I got here… that I realised that I would not be permitted to leave… ’ Von Reichter tailed off.

  ‘How are they treating you? You know, the soldiers?’

  ‘Reasonably well. They leave us alone mostly. We have a bed each, and three meals a day. Albeit army food, but it’s alright.’

  ‘And what of the work? The laboratories?’

  Von Reichter perked up. ‘The main building has an extensive laboratory space in the basement. The facilities are superb! Lathes, engineering rigs, chemical containment areas, fuel-mixing platforms, electronic components; everything you could possibly imagine! With a laboratory like this I can do ten years of research in less than a year!’