"Dad's upstairs," Steven said, indicating the direction with a jerk of his head. He was just about to turn away toward the kitchen when he stopped and suddenly stared intently at Sam. "What was your name again?" he asked. "Dad did tell me, but…"
"Sam Cleave," said Sam. Then, because Steven's gaze was making him uncomfortable, he continued. "From the Edinburgh Post."
"Hmm." Steven nodded slightly, then continued as if nothing had happened. "I've got to get Lavinia down for her nap, but I'll bring you two some tea in a minute. Just head up. It's the first door on the right."
People are weird, thought Sam, as he climbed the stairs. When he reached the first door on the right he knocked. A muffled voice called from within, so he pushed the door open and stepped inside. He found himself in a small, book-lined study with a tiny coal fire. Dr. Lehmann was seated in a dark-green wing chair by the hearth, leaning forward on his walking stick.
"Ah, Mr. Cleave," he greeted Sam. "So good to meet you. Thank you for coming all this way. Do have a seat."
He directed Sam to a leather chair identical to his own. Sam gratefully settled into it, stretching his frozen feet out toward the fire. Before they could get talking, Steven appeared. "Tea, Dad?" he asked. Dr. Lehmann nodded, then turned his attention back to Sam as they heard Steven's footsteps on the stairs.
"Please, Mr. Cleave," Dr. Lehmann said, "do tell me about this story you are writing. How did you come into possession of these papers? I am a little confused. They belonged to Harald Kruger, you said, but you never met Mr. Kruger."
"That's right," Sam replied. "I got them from a Mr. McKenna, another resident in the retirement home. He told me he was looking after them for Mr. Kruger. He seemed quite worried about what would happen to him if he hung on to the papers, but I got the impression that he wasn't the trusting sort."
And neither are you, Sam thought, as Dr. Lehmann suddenly raised his finger to his lips. The old man began chattering inconsequentially — about Sam's journey, the expected snowstorm, the cost of train travel, anything at all. At first Sam could not understand the change, but then Steven appeared with the tea tray. Interesting, he thought, Lehmann doesn't want his son hearing about this stuff. Sure enough, the stream of chit-chat continued until Steven was back down the stairs, safely out of earshot. It took an agonizingly long time, since instead of going straight back down, Steven chose that moment to stop and fiddle with the plug socket on the landing. After several minutes he got up and left. At once, Lehmann dropped his doddery old man act.
"May I see the papers?"
"Sure," said Sam, reaching into his bag. The folded papers were tucked into a notebook for safekeeping, because Sam had thought it best not to lug the cumbersome strongbox all the way to Berkshire. "I've got some of the metal things that were in the box too." He pulled them out of the zip section and spread the complicated bits of brass on the table while Dr. Lehmann poured tea.
"Please, help yourself to milk and sugar," the old man said, picking up a couple of the machine parts. He turned them over and over, scrutinizing them. "Wolfenstein?" he muttered to himself. "And this… No… no, I'm afraid these are unfamiliar to me. As I recall, Mr. Kruger and I were in very different fields at Peenemünde. What was it he did, aeronautics? Ballistics? They could be bomb parts, I suppose. Rocket science was my field. I had the immeasurable privilege of working with Wernher von Braun, you know…"
He picked up the typed papers. "Ah, yes, I recognize these. This one is notifying Mr. Kruger that he will be posted to a new location at the beginning of 1939. I can't tell you where, since that part is in code and I'm afraid it's not somewhere I knew the code words for. It may be possible to work it out — this little note in the margin here, it's a number puzzle. We used to come up with these as a way of disguising the—"
The door opened again. Dr. Lehmann immediately went silent. He shot a look at the papers. Sam could have sworn that he was looking for a swift way to hide them. He found himself getting ready to lunge forward in case the old man threw them on the fire.
Steven Lehmann strolled in, a plate in his hand. He set it down on the tea table. "Forgot the biscuits," he said with an icy smile. "Mr. Cleave?" Steven turned his attention to Sam. "I believe you're here because Nina Gould sent you?" He looked Sam up and down, presumably jumping to conclusions about Sam's relationship with Nina and not liking them. "Hmm. Well, when you see her, tell her I send my love, won't you?"
Sam had never heard a greeting that sounded so much like a threat, not even from people who had been pointing guns at him at the time. He and Dr. Lehmann watched silently as Steven slipped out of the room again, leaving the door slightly ajar.
"My son is not a happy man," Dr. Lehmann said softly. "I wish it were otherwise. But he has made… unfortunate choices. I believe that he regrets not having the nerve to leave his wife and marry Nina when he had the chance. If, indeed, he did have the chance… I do not think that Nina trusted him after she learned that he had lied to her about being married. A pity. I should have liked to have her for a daughter-in-law. I do sincerely hope that you will be able to make her happy."
Sam nearly leaped out of his seat. "What? Me and Nina? No, sorry, Dr. Lehmann, I think you've got the wrong end of the stick. I've only just met her! No, we're just friends. Well, acquaintances. I ran into her at a university thing and ended up telling her about these papers in the hope that she'd help me. She's translating Kruger's notebooks at the moment."
"His notebooks? There are more?"
"Yup. She's only had a brief look at them, but she said his notes were about some kind of Nazi ice station that they were going to build for whaling or something. Does that sound about right?"
Dr. Lehmann was still and silent for a long moment. Sam watched with growing concern. Is he ok? He's very still. Should I get his son? Is he having an aneurysm or something? Then at last, he picked up his cup and took a slow sip of tea.
"Mr. Cleave," he said gently. "I would advise you and Nina not to pursue this any further. I can tell you that there was an attempt to build an ice station in New Schwabenland, and that many have died attempting to uncover its location. To do so now would simply be folly. It is perhaps the most hostile terrain on Earth. A station abandoned in 1945 would leave very little trace by now. Your safest bet is to leave well enough alone. There are secrets that are best left as secrets."
I bet there are, Sam thought. He could feel this case tugging at his interest despite his determination to keep his distance. Stop trying to recapture the glory days, Sam, he told himself. You don't have the balls for the investigative stuff anymore. If this gets any more challenging than chatting to old men about their wartime experiences, you'll be curled up under the nearest table, sobbing like a baby.
"Purely academic interest, I promise," Sam reassured the old man, sliding the handwritten papers toward him. "Can you tell me anything about these?"
Dr. Lehmann did not even lean forward this time. He cast a cursory glance over the top sheet, then shook his head. "No," he said sadly. "I cannot help you with these. My eyes are not what they used to be, and the writing is too cramped. I am sorry."
Nothing further came of Sam's chat with Dr. Lehmann. They made polite conversation as they finished their tea and biscuits, but no matter how hard he tried, Sam could not draw out any further information about the contents of the strongbox. Still, Dr. Lehmann seemed a nice old boy, and he told Sam a little about his experiences after Operation Paperclip. He had worked for the Americans, he said, as they battled to win the space race. When Armstrong had landed on the Moon, Lehmann had celebrated with so much champagne that he finally worked up the confidence to propose to Steven's mother. As old men's reminiscences went, Dr. Lehmann's were among the more interesting. Sam listened, trying not to give in to drowsiness in the warm study.