‘Now you both tell me that perhaps it was not such a good idea after all. That more time is needed, that the problems are of such magnitude that time schedules cannot be met.’
‘Herr Heydrich,’ von Braun began, but the reichsprotektor cut him off.
‘Please, no excuses. We allow no excuses in the SS. Only success is recognised. There is no such thing as failure, is that clear? You two gentlemen have deceived me ...’
That was too much for von Braun. He jumped up and advanced on Heydrich who backed away a step in surprise. The aide came slowly to his feet, one hand on his pistol. ‘Just one moment, Herr Reichsprotektor.’ Von Braun’s voice was cold and his face pale. Bethwig had never heard him use that tone of voice before, and he stared, fascinated by this new aspect of his friend’s character.
‘We presented to you a technological concept, not a finished product. Our proposals made it perfectly clear that this was the case and that rigid time schedules had no place in the development plan. Obviously your so-called planning staff has chosen to ignore - ‘
‘That is enough!’
In that single command Bethwig and von Braun understood how Heydrich had come to be the number-two man in the Schutzstaffel, the head of the Sicherheitsdienst, and reichsprotektor all at the same time. It was not so much the threat in his voice as the confidence - confidence that any order he gave would be carried out instantly. Bethwig found his opinion of Heydrich undergoing an abrupt change. Perhaps his father had been wrong. Heydrich was correct. If the Americans remained an active enemy, the war was lost, and contrary to the party line, Heydrich had freely admitted it. It occurred to Bethwig then that very few people in Germany possessed such power. Even fewer knew how to use it for the good of the nation, for mankind as a whole. Thank God, Heydrich seemed to.
Heydrich stared at them without concealing his contempt. ‘You are boys playing a game, expecting everything to go by the rules - rules you make up as you go along. Well, I must disappoint you. You are no longer boys playing boys’ games. You are citizens of a nation involved in a war for survival. If we lose, we will disappear into oblivion in the worst bloodbath the world will ever know. If we win, we become masters of the world. With such stakes, your personal desires and feelings are of no importance.’
Heydrich picked up his brandy glass and stared at them over the rim. ‘The schedule I gave this afternoon will be met. It is not open to discussion. If you cannot do so, or do not desire to do so, please tell me now. Others can be found to take your place.’ He waited, watching them.
Bethwig knew then how a small bird felt as the snake approached. There was horror, a premonition of what was to come, and, worst of all, the knowledge that there was absolutely no way to avoid one’s fate.
‘Admirable sentiments,’ von Braun snorted, and Bethwig turned to his friend in amazement. Even Heydrich was astonished. ‘You can threaten and bluster all you wish, but it will do no good. The dynamics of technological development refuse to recognise fear as an incentive,’ he went on dryly. ‘Put us in one of your famous concentration camps and threaten us with every punishment you can devise. Perhaps you might gain a day or two, but no more.’
Von Braun picked up his own glass and watched in turn for Heydrich’s reaction. The reichsprotektor shook his head and burst into laughter.
‘What do you think of this, Karl?’ He addressed the aide. ‘I am unable to impress Doktor von Braun.’ The aide permitted himself the trace of a smile. ‘You have convinced me, Doktor. Perhaps my planning staff has failed to take the stubbornness of your technology into account. Let us not argue further. If I can have your assurance that everything possible will be done to speed up the project, I will be satisfied ... for now.’
Just then the door opened and a senior aide looked in to tell Heydrich he had a phone call from Berlin. The reichsprotektor excused himself and left the room, but not before inviting Bethwig for another visit to Prague.
The two scientists left the reception, exiting through the back of the house a few minutes later. A sentry escorted them out to the road, and they walked along in silence.
‘He is even more dangerous than I thought,’ von Braun muttered under his breath. ‘I thought he was intelligent enough to realise that certain things cannot be made to go faster merely because one threatens and blusters. This business of slave labour - how foolish can one be? Such people are not dedicated workers and therefore cannot be depended upon to do things correctly without constant supervision. In addition, they will show no initiative. You know as well as I how much we depend upon the observations of our own trained workers to solve problems.’
Von Braun stopped. Their path had taken them along the edge of a stand of pines defining the border between beach and sea. He stood for a moment, hands clasped behind him, brooding over the waves thundering against the sand. The wind was fresher here, and the air was sharp and filled with the tang of salt and rain. ‘Perhaps you were right when you said I had chosen the wrong man.’
Von Braun’s depression was so obvious that Bethwig clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Come, Wernher. It isn’t that bad. Heydrich is an intelligent and very powerful man, more so than ever now that he is going to France. At least he will be in a position to make certain the group of labourers sent to us contains a large number of trained scientists and technicians. And you certainly showed that you could handle him tonight. He backed off immediately when you stood up to him.’
In the blue light from the hooded blackout lamp above the road Bethwig could see von Braun shake his head. ‘I don’t think so. My impression is that he never deviates once he has set his path. Your visits to Prague are merely one more element in his strategy. He isolates you in that damned castle and persuades you to do things that you know are impossible.’
‘Oh, come now, Wernher . . .’ Bethwig objected. Although he knew von Braun was right, the thought of seeing Inge once more overrode his misgivings.
‘Don’t scoff.’ He faced Bethwig. ‘He is like the devil tempting Christ; he shows you all the world’s treasures, then offers them to you in exchange for your soul. And the damnable thing is, you know that he can deliver. How do you think these people gain and keep the allegiance of so many people? Simply by bribery. What do you want? Money, power, women? Once they have you hooked, they threaten you, and their threats are very real. Very real! No, don’t look at me like that. He has done it to us, Franz. He’s offered us what we want most; the opportunity to build a rocket capable of reaching the moon. How long have we dreamed of that? Haven’t we schemed and connived for more than fifteen years to bring it about? He has given us what we want in exchange for our souls - and he means to collect. Wait and see. And if we refuse to pay, well ... you’ve heard the stories just as I have.’
Spring was in full bloom, Bethwig noted as the Mercedes limousine swung through the streets of Prague. Heydrich had sent his own car this time, a singular honour. The reichsprotektor’s aide engaged him in polite conversation concerning the amenities and shops available at Peenemunde and opportunities to visit Berlin or nearby Denmark until it dawned on Bethwig that the officer was probing subtly into the condition of his wardrobe. If von Braun was correct in his assessment of Heydrich’s reason for inviting him to Hradcany Castle, he could expect a visit from a tailor for which he would never see a bill. Inclined at first to refuse the gift, he quickly changed his mind. Good clothing was becoming expensive, so why not take advantage?
The tailor indeed appeared and departed with an order for three suits, a dozen shirts, a dinner jacket, several pairs of shoes, and a riding outfit. ‘A gift from the people of Bohemia and Moravia,’ he was told.
Franz had been impatient to get the fittings over with, but now that the tailor was gone, he had no idea what to do next. On his three previous visits Inge had been waiting for him in the suite. He supposed that he could ring down to reception and enquire about her, but that would certainly be considered bad form. The only other alternative was to wait. He poured a stiff cognac from the well-stocked bar and wandered out on to the balcony. His room was on the third floor overlooking the gardens behind the castle. Standing by the railing in the soft sunshine, sipping his drink, he gazed out over the carefully tended lawn and forest thinking that from this vantage point one would never suspect that half the world was engaged in a war to the death.
As the afternoon waned, Bethwig’s impatience grew. He quickly exhausted the possibilities of the balcony but was afraid to leave the apartment in case she should come. By four o’clock he was beginning to wonder if he had misjudged the nature of this visit. To occupy his attention, he opened his portfolio and, replenishing his drink, tried to lose himself in calculations for a new nozzle design based on the latest wind-tunnel tests describing supersonic flow.
He found he could not concentrate. His mind kept turning again and again to Inge, recalling every detail of previous visits. She was not, as he had first thought, a mental defective; rather she lived in a world of her own, and he had pieced together enough of her background to understand why.
Inge was born in Thuringia to elderly parents who had died within months of one another when she was quite small. A cousin inherited their farm, along with the responsibility for Inge’s care and education. The cousin was a drunkard, his wife a chronic invalid, and before she was twelve, Inge had been raped repeatedly - a not uncommon story in the more isolated rural areas of Germany.
The child was removed from the farm after neighbours protested to the authorities. Silent and withdrawn, she was several times placed in foster homes but continued her slide into a world of silence and inaction. Finally, she was placed in an institution for mental defectives where she remained until it was taken over by the SS in 1939. Because of her physical beauty she was spared the various ‘experiments and training sessions’ and became instead a plaything for the senior SS officers at the facility. How she had come to Hradcany Castle, Bethwig never found out, as Inge herself did not know. She had no sense of time, cared nothing for anything beyond the parameters of her existence, and was an intensely physical being. Bethwig did not know enough about psychology to do more than guess at an interpretation of her condition, but he had to believe that her nymphomania was in fact a reaction to her treatment as a child and later as an adult by the SS. Whatever, for reasons derived as much from sympathy as sexual need, Bethwig found that he very much cared for the girl.
Yet there was little that he could do to change her situation; the SS, by virtue of their special legal position, were virtually immune to the normal processes of German law. They were a physical and legal entity apart, and only one man, Reinhard Heydrich, had the power to release her. To obtain that release, Bethwig must please Heydrich.
Restlessly he pushed himself away from the desk and went out on to the balcony. The sun had swung deep into the west, and a golden haze lay across the vast sweep of lawn. The air was fresh, and the grass was that incredible spring green. Standing on the balcony, Bethwig thought the setting as pleasant as any on Earth.
‘Hello, Herr Doktor Bethwig.’
He turned so fast that cognac spilled from his glass. For a moment he was speechless. Inge, wearing only a flowing, diaphanous negligee, was standing in the doorway, more lovely and desirable than he could remember.
Light was fading outside when Bethwig lit a cigarette and offered it to Inge. He propped the pillows against the headboard and smiled as she shook her head, stretched languorously, and burrowed against him. ‘Good,’ she murmured.
Her propensity for framing questions as statements intrigued him. She was so certain of herself, and with good reason. He muttered an answer, and she nipped at his ribs with sharp teeth- He protested and wriggled away. Giggling, Inge pursued him across the wide bed until he was trapped on the edge; then she swarmed over him, all legs and arms and teeth, until he was laughing so he could hardly stand it. She stopped then, and they began to make love again, more slowly and with deeper pleasure than before.
‘I understand that dinner was served in your apartment last night.’ Heydrich smiled, I trust you found everything to your satisfaction?’ He was obviously enjoying Bethwig’s embarrassment. ‘Inge is a very lovely woman.’ Heydrich frowned, then went to the window and stood with his back to the room.
‘This is difficult for me,’ Heydrich said with some hesitation. ‘I do not want you to misunderstand my meaning. I do not want it to sound like a threat, only a fact, a fact we must all live with.’ He turned back to see Bethwig waiting politely and thought to himself that he had not misjudged this one. Von Braun was a brilliant man but a fool where politics were concerned. This one, a realist, seemed to understand the game. Certainly his father was important enough for him to have learned early. And he is also greedy for what I can give, his stupid moon rocket and the whore.
‘So let us get down to cases. Your friend von Braun has become an obstruction. He must be removed as the director of the A-Ten project.’
Bethwig laughed in spite of his knowledge that it was dangerous to provoke this man. He could not help himself.
‘Herr Reichsprotektor, I would not presume to tell you how to rule Czechoslovakia. You are the expert here. So why, then, do you persist in telling us how to manage a scientific project? In any effort involving groups of people there must always be one person with the ability to make all elements work. Doktor von Braun is that person at Peenemunde. Take him away and your project will never be completed - at least before this war is over.’
‘I had it in mind,’ Heydrich said, ‘to appoint you project director in von Braun’s place.’
Bethwig stared at Heydrich in surprise, then shook his head, ‘It would do no good. I am not a leader. Von Braun is. Colonel Dornberger will tell you the same thing.’
As if accepting Bethwig’s opinion, Heydrich stretched in the chair, yawned, and patted his mouth with one carefully tended hand. ‘Then what do we do?’