by Unknown
Gleeson was stunned. He hadn’t expected to get fired. Only then did it dawn on him what he had done. He started to say something, but slowly turned and left the office. After a minute Jackson let out a long breath and smiled at Eric.
“It took your father a long time to set some standards at the company. You did it in one hour. Not bad young Eric,” Jackson said.
Eric grinned back at him. “I didn’t overstep it by firing Gleeson? He really just pissed me off.”
“No, Gleeson needed to be brought down. A lot of the guys will be happier,” Jackson said.
“Now what will we do to replace him?”
Jackson gave him a sly smile. “We can always advertise and see about getting some fresh blood.”
“Okay, you are my personnel man. Find me a good one,” Eric said.
“Not a problem,” Jackson said. Then he paused and thought a moment. “Is there anyone in the Innsbruck or Bonn office you might want to bring up?”
A smile came on Eric’s face. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. Let me think about that. You think we are alright until we find someone?”
Jackson scoffed at the thought. “Of course we can. These guys know their stuff. And after what you just did to Gleeson, they will line up just fine,” Jackson said.
“Thanks Mister Jackson. You’ll let me know before I start stepping into a hole?”
Jackson laughed. “I have a feeling you will do fine. Just go on and let us do our jobs. Take care of the funeral and get back to that young lady your Dad told me about. We’ll take care of things and keep you in the loop.”
“That sounds like a plan. By the way, I brought that young lady home with me. She will be Mrs. Anderson before too long,” Eric said.
“That’s good. You need to have a couple of kids to take over when you get old,” chided Jackson.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Eric.
Spandau prison was a lump of red brick in the small town of Spandau, in the suburbs of western Berlin. It had been built in 1876 near the Renaissance-era Spandau Citadel fortress and was currently being used for just one thing – a prison for the very top Nazi war criminals. Right now there were three there. The others had either served out their sentence or were released due to ill health.
Dresner was lucky. It was an ‘American month’ with the American authorities running the prison. The months shifted between the British, French, Soviets and the Americans. Three of the powers had become slightly more lenient over the years from the strict operating codes originally decided upon by the four powers. Only the Soviets remained strict in their operations. Once they knew of the seriousness of the request, the Americans allowed Dresner to see one of the prisoners. It was to be a one time visit and could only cover the topic agreed to. The men could not even shake hands. Dresner was searched carefully and thoroughly before entering the prison.
An American sergeant escorted him to a small room, painted white, with a small table and walls lined with books. Prisoner Number 5 was escorted into the room shortly thereafter.
Albert Speer was younger than the other prisoners and had been the only one to admit his guilt and repudiate Hitler at the Nuremburg trials. He was also the most ambitious of the prisoners, and dedicated himself to a rigorous physical and mental work regime. When he entered the room his eyes were sharp and spoke of the intelligence behind them. The sergeant reminded the men of the rules which must be enforced and the two men sat down. The sergeant stood against the wall just three feet away.
Dresner started the questioning. “Herr Speer, I have come today to ask your help on some cases I am working in Austria. I thank you for any assistance you might give,” he said in English.
Speer smiled and nodded. “I am only too happy to help where I can,” he said, also in English.
“In your official duties as Reichminister, do you recall any large scale facilities our services might have built around Innsbruck?”
Speer thought a moment. “There were a number of facilities built throughout southern Germany and the strip of Austria before you get to Italy. At the end of the war, I had ordered a specialized company of men to search out what was there and shut them down. By my knowledge the group was quite successful. I don’t know of any which were left active,” he said.
Dresner smiled and nodded. “Yes, Herr Speer, I still have that order in my possession. I was the officer in charge of that unit.”
Speer’s eyes opened wide. “Ahh. You must tell me how it went.”
The guard gave a slight cough. This was off the subject. He was also disturbed that Dresner had been under Speer’s orders.
Dresner sensed this and held up his hand and turned to the guard. “Just to let you know, I was in charge of a 30 man company which was tasked by Herr Speer to find all the Nazi facilities and shut them down. I was also instructed to make sure the information from those places did not pass to the Soviets. I never met Herr Speer although the orders were signed by him. I doubt he would have known who even got the orders. I need to discuss this with him because I fear we might have missed one of those facilities and it may be being used,” he explained. The sergeant nodded and stood back, visibly relieved.
Dresner pulled out an old map, unfolded it and laid it on the table. He also invited the guard over to see as well. There were positions marked on the map with notations of what each did.
“As you can see, Herr Speer, we found each of these facilities. The ones marked in red were army facilities, blue were SS, the green were private facilities by certain leaders and the purple were other agencies. You can also see what each did.” Dresner looked at the guard again. “This map was shared with the American occupation forces when we surrendered in 1945.” He turned back to Speer. “The Americans even helped us shut a few of them down,” he said pointing to a few of the places.
Speer studied the map and nodded. “This appears very thorough indeed. I’m glad you were able to get the information to the Americans. From my memory I recall many of these places. I was in charge of most of the construction, but not all. By 1944 things in Berlin were nearly chaos. Hitler was in his bunker almost every day from the bombing raids. The city itself was a shambles. Instead of consolidating our resources and our efforts, as I recommended, it seemed everyone had his own ideas of what should be built or what project should be started. Most simply wanted something that would please Hitler. Goering wanted more planes, the Jodl wanted more tanks, Himmler was busy building all kinds of secret little operations both to cripple the enemy and to harass our own people. Even Goebbels wanted more radio transmitters and propaganda tools. I was supposed to be the man in charge of all armaments and construction. I doubt I saw even half of it. As a result, most of our resources were squandered,” he said. There was no bitterness in his voice; only resignation.
“You mentioned Himmler. What did the SS have in the area?
Speer chuckled. “The worst of the lot. You must understand that Himmler did not control the entire SS, although he thought he did. Several of the leaders had orders directly from Hitler. Those men had carte blanche to do as they willed.” Speer leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “Tell me, what kinds of things got your attention?”
“There have been several thefts and even murders in the area. There was the theft of an American army truck with secret electronic parts on it, a major theft of 50,000 gallons of acid from a local fertilizer plant, the murder of a man I had looking into the possible places the acid could be used, the murder of a man who was the prime suspect of the acid theft and now the theft of 80,000 gallons of some kind of kerosene. I don’t have proof yet, but the quantities of acid and kerosene suggest a large facility. In our investigation one of the men, we found an old SS uniform with guns and ammunition hidden in a secret closet in his home. That’s why I suspect some sort of group and some sort of facility,” Dresner said.
“Even after all these years?”
“Herr Speer, you remember some of the people we had. Fanaticism did not even beg
in to describe them. If a small group had the tools and was patient enough to wait for just the right moment. The damage they could cause might topple governments. This is particularly true now with the tension between the Soviets and the United States.”
“What kind of tensions?”
The guard tensed again. The prisoners were not allowed to get news from the outside, although it did trickle in. But what these men were discussing seemed important. His colonel had told him to use his judgment. “You may answer the question,” he said.
“The Americans discovered that the Soviets are basing nuclear missiles in Cuba, a small island 90 miles from their shores. There’s a blockade going on right now.”
Suddenly Speer’s eyebrows shot up. A look of fear crossed his face. “The acid. What kind of acid was it?”
“Nitric acid.”
The lines on Speer’s forehead suddenly deepened. He looked slightly ill. He reached out and took Dresner’s arm, alarming the guard. “Hans Kammler.”
“Who?”
“Hans Kammler. He was an SS general who was personally placed in charge of Germany’s rocket program and its atomic weapons program by Hitler. He based much of his work in southern Germany. Was he ever captured?” Speer asked.
“I don’t know,” said Dresner. They looked at the guard.
The guard thought a moment. “Beats me.”
Dresner saw the fear in the man’s eyes. “We should assume he was not.”
Speer looked back at Dresner. “Herr Dresner. You must stop them. Nitric acid and diesel fuel was the fuel used for the A-10 missile.”
Dresner tensed. “But that rocket was never developed.”
“It was developed and tested, but we never deployed it. That doesn’t mean it was never built.”
“But how big a rocket was it? I only heard about it later on.”
“It was built to hit New York City.”
“My God!” said the sergeant in alarm. Even he understood the seriousness of the situation. “Should I call in the Colonel?
“I have already discussed this with the local Army officials. When I leave we will start a search for this facility,” said Dresner. “Your Army arranged for me to have this interview, remember?” Dresner turned back to Speer. “What should we look for? Whatever it is has remained hidden since 1945. Can you give me a start?”
Speer lowered his head and stared at the table. “Wherever it is, it is hiding near something innocuous. The missile itself was a little over 4 meters wide and was 41 meters high. It had tremendous thrust, so there should be a lot of reinforcement.” He suddenly looked up. “That’s it. Follow the concrete. They would have used many tons of it. It would be used for the underground bunkers, the launch pads, the control rooms, everything. There might even be large concrete doors over the launch pads to protect the rockets. Wherever the concrete went, that is where your rockets will be,” Speer said confidently.
Dresner and Speer stood. He looked at the guard. “I want to shake this man’s hand.”
The sergeant said, “It’s not allowed,” and then turned to face the wall with a grin.
Dresner reached out and took Speer’s hand in his own. “Thank you Herr Speer. When you are released, I shall come and visit you.”
Speer held his hand for a moment. “Just go and prevent this catastrophe. We don’t need something like this to happen now. We shall see each other soon.”
The young sergeant turned back around. “We need to go back now Number 5.”
Speer dropped Dresner’s hand and looked at the guard and smiled. “Yes.” He glanced once more at Dresner as he left the room and waved his hand.
Dresner walked through the large wooden doors of the prison, saddened at the fate of the man he had spoken to, but excited about what he now knew. The clues were there and he was determined to find these people before it was too late. A car pulled up and blew its horn as it came up beside him. Dresner looked in the car and was astounded to see Corporal Mahler in the driver’s seat.
“Corporal Mahler! It is good to see you again!” Dresner exclaimed. Mahler opened the boor and urged his former commander inside. A warm handshake and a slap on the arm came next.
“Herr Major, I have wanted to visit for a long time. This was a good chance to finally do so,” Mahler said as he pulled the car into traffic.
“Where are we going?” Dresner asked.
“I’m taking you back to Innsbruck. Betz called and said we might be needed. I took a week off and this is faster than the train when we hit the autobahn,” Mahler said.
Dresner thought a moment and sat back in the seat. “I defer to your wisdom. But I need to place a phone call. Can you pull into that station?” he asked while pointing to a petrol station just up the road.
Mahler pulled the BMW 1500 in and filled the tank while Dresner made his call.
“Betz, I made some progress. I need you to go to the concrete plant out by the river. To my knowledge, it’s the only plant operating since before the war. Find someone who has been around a while and see if there were any places between 1944 and 1945 that used a lot of concrete. The more secretive the better. Then find out all you can. Mahler is driving me back and I should be there this evening. Let’s get together as soon as I get there and we can make some plans,” Dresner said.
“I’ll get on the road. If I don’t get any results, I’ll expand our search a little more. On the truck, we have narrowed our search to about ten people. Everyone else has checked out. It should be even narrower by this evening. I’ll be here when you arrive,” Betz said on the phone.
“Good. We’ll be there as quick as we can,” Dresner said.
When he returned to the car Mahler was waiting and had two American Cokes in his hand. He handed one to Dresner as he got back in the car. “The pause that refreshes,” Mahler said, quoting the current advertising slogan. Moving back into traffic, it wasn’t long before they were on the autobahn rapidly moving to the south. The two men relaxed for a moment and talked of old times. In the middle of one conversation, Mahler snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot. I finally got that list for you. It’s in the back seat.”
Dresner looked back and picked up a plain manila folder. Inside was a stack of typed sheets. The top one had a list with thirty five names and addresses. The sheet was marked “Special Unit Number Four.”
“Sorry it took so long. It took my staff a week to dig out those names even after we knew where to look. Someone didn’t want that information found easily. We’re not too sure of the addresses of those people out of the country, but the ones inside Germany are good as of last year,” he said.
Dresner rapidly scanned the list. Mantz’s name was about mid way through. The address was correct. Four of the men were marked as deceased. There were three officers on the list. One was listed as Captain H. Strasser, a second was General “K” and the last, Colonel Heinrich Müller. Dresner sucked in his breath. Müller was a notoriously fervent Nazi. He was ruthless and methodical in everything associated with him. More importantly, after the war he too had never been found. The General “K” confirmed Speer’s worry that it might me General Hans Kammler. This was even bigger trouble. If Kammler was indeed in charge of this plot, he would not be quickly found and not so easily subdued.
Flipping to the next page he smiled at himself. Mahler had guessed the importance and had provided copies of Kammler’s and Müller’s service records.
Mahler saw the look on his face. “I take it I guessed right. Kammler was the only one who fit. He’s the only general with a last name starting with a “K” who had not been found,” he said.
“You are still as efficient as ever, Mahler. It’s spot on. This may help us a lot,” Dresner said as he flipped back to the first sheet again and started going down the list a second time. This time he stopped on one name and swore quietly to himself. “I need to ask you to pull in again. One more phone call,” he said. Mahler could tell he was greatly disturbed. It took five minutes to come up on another fueling
station. Dresner were out of the car almost before it stopped. He ran to the phone and caught Betz as he was about to go out the door.
“Betz we have a serious problem. Mahler gave me the list of names we asked for. Take down these names,” he said. Dresner proceeded to read off each name and address. The last one got Betz’s attention. It was Hans Kemper. “Mein Gott, Herr Major! Right under our noses!”
“Yes my friend. It’s time to find these men and get them under wraps. But I think we need to do this outside the force. Contact the men. Tell them I need them. Meet us at the coffee house this evening. And Michael…”
“Yes, Herr Major?”
“Tell them to bring their weapons,” Dresner said.
Betz was silent for just a moment. “Jawohl, Herr Major. I’ll start it going immediately. By the way, I have been referred to a retired man who worked at the concrete plant in the war. He made deliveries. I am going to see him immediately after I make the calls. Should I arrest Kemper?”
“No. We don’t want to jump too soon. I want him and I want him to talk. Let’s gather our assets before we go.”
Two minutes later the BMW was back on the autobahn. This time the speed approached 100 miles per hour.
Walter Obrect was living a peaceful life. He had a two bedroom cottage on the edge of Innsbruck where he lived with his pet dog, Herman. Most days he was content with walking to the local café for breakfast with his friends before working most of the day outside in the garden behind his home. The call from the police excited him. It was actually the first time in his 87 years to have had any interaction with them aside from an occasional license check. He made some fresh coffee and was anxiously waiting when Sergeant Betz knocked on his door. After welcoming Betz into his home and offering a cup, the men sat down to talk.