“Trouble is,” McKinley added. “We don't know what he'll run into. We could be landing in a hornets' nest — or dropping a juicy orange in Aladdin's turban!”
Rosenfeld nodded. “I can see that,” he said. “Unless we know with absolute certainty that the operation is worth it, the risks might well be too great…”
McKinley sighed. “Any chance at all that your Gemini boys might still come through with some concrete information?”
Rosenfeld shook his head slowly. “I strongly doubt it, sir. We must write them off….”
“That leaves only Pash….”
McKinley fell silent.
The telephone on the desk broke into the heavy silence. McKinley picked up the receiver.
“Yes, Barnes,” he said.
He listened, his face drawn.
“Tell them I'm on my way,” he said. He replaced the receiver. He looked at Reed. “That was General Groves' office,” he said. “It does not look good for Operation Effective. It seems the strike against the Hechingen-Haigerloch Project will be called off.” He stood up. “You will excuse me, gentlemen. I am wanted in the office of the Chief of Staff.”
He started for the door, hesitated and turned to the two officers watching him solemnly. “An Army Group Task Force may be formed,” he said quietly. “A major effort. To seize the Hechingen-Haigerloch area in strength.”
Reed looked at him. “Major effort,” he said with concern. “That means — time! Sir, it may be too late. When—”
“Last week in April,” McKinley interrupted him. “No sooner.”
He turned and quickly walked from the room.
Reed looked at Rosenfeld. “Three weeks,” he said, his voice flat. “The world was created in only one week. Are we going to see it destroyed in three?”
The steady clackity whirring of Anna Weber's old sewing machine seeped into the dismal little back room — an incongruous accompaniment to Dirk's anger.
Wanda was gone. She had died at last the day after the disaster at the railroad yard Oskar had buried her in the little garden behind his sister's shop. Her headstone was a row of empty seed packages stuck on twigs and planted in the dark earth. No one would dig up a people's vegetable garden. Had not the Führer himself decreed that they be planted?
Dirk found himself reluctant to breathe deeply. The smell of terror and human decay still lingered in the air.
They were all there. He and Sig. Oskar and Gisela. And Himmelmann. Dirk glared at the scientist angrily.
“Why the hell did you call this meeting?” he asked, antagonism grating in his voice. “You know damn well how dangerous it is for us to run around the streets just now.” He glared at the German.
Himmelmann regarded him, a half-smile of disdain on his lips. “Would you rather have had me come to the Storp house?”
“Oh, shit!” Dirk exploded. “That's a goddamn stupid question and you fucking well know it! The Storp place is the only safe house we have. But roaming the streets of this shitty burg, the asshole of the world, isn't exactly healthy either. Not now. And you know that, too!.. Okay. So you got us here. We'll listen to what you have to say. It had better be good….”
With an air of cool superiority, Himmelmann looked at the angry young American. “If you would listen, young man, instead of indulging in such a masturbatory orgy of words, you might be better equipped to render an opinion,” he said calmly.
“Don't give me any static,” Dirk snapped. “Just spill it.”
Himmelmann shrugged. “Two items,” he said, his voice icy. “We have just received a directive from Wehrkreis VII. That is the Alpenfestung—the Alpine Fortress. All atomic-research capacities from every laboratory in Germany — except Haigeloch; all stock piles of uranium, heavy water, graphite and all materials essential for the production of an atomic explosive device, all equipment and machinery are immediately and on top-priority basis to be evacuated to the National Redoubt in the Alps.”
“Redoubt in the Alps?” Sig was startled. God! They were getting awfully close to home. “What is — the National Redoubt?”
Himmelmann turned to him. “The Alpine Fortress, or National Redoubt, is an area of some twenty thousand square miles of mountain terrain, taking in parts of Bavaria, western Austria and northern Italy. The Führer's personal stronghold, Berchtesgaden, lies within it. It will be the rallying point for all remaining German armed forces, led by the SS. It is here the National Socialist Third Reich will make its last stand. It is virtually impregnable….”
Dirk and Sig were staring at him. He continued.
“The area has been in preparation for a long time. It contains military supply dumps of every kind. Food, gasoline, ammunition, chemical warfare. There are large caches of poison gas. And rocket missiles. There are concrete bunkers, pillboxes, power stations and heavily fortified lines guarding underground bombproof factories connected by a network of tunnel railways. It is here the atomic bomb will be constructed — once the final, vital results of the Haigerloch test are known… the proof that makes it possible.”
Sig let out his breath. “Holy Jesus!” he whispered.
“You mentioned two items,” Dirk said. He felt sheepish. Himmelmann had had a damned good reason for contacting them. Even if contrary to their agreement. He realized he had acted boorishly. He was surprised that the tension inside him should have gotten to him that much. But — he could not bring himself to apologize to the scientist. “What's the second?”
Himmelmann turned to him.
“There has been pressure from the Führerhauptquartier—the Führer's Headquarters in Berlin. The date for the final test of the Haigerloch reactor has been moved up.” He looked gravely from one to the other of the two Americans. “It is no longer April nineteenth. It is now April tenth!”
Dirk was shocked to his marrow. Less than two weeks! There was no earthly way for them to get this vital information to Washington in time, let alone for any action to be taken.
“Will it work?” he asked Himmelmann. His voice was hoarse with anxiety.
“It will,” the scientist answered firmly. “There is no doubt. All inhibiting safeguards and theory will be thrown to the winds.” The corners of his mouth pulled down in his characteristic cynical smile. “We have been ordered to succeed. The pile will go critical. It will become self-sustaining.”
Their eyes were fixed on him. The enormity of his statements beat on their minds.
“And — and after the results are transmitted to that Alpine stronghold, how long…?”
“It is estimated it will take six months to construct the bomb.”
“Six months? Can they hold out that long?” Sig felt nauseated. He swallowed, his eyes still on Himmelmann.
“They can,” the scientist stated flatly.
“Six months,” Dirk said. “Once we know what they're up to, we'll throw everything we've got at them….”
“The Alpenfestung can be defended indefinitely. Have no illusions. No effort will be spared to buy enough time once the bomb is under construction. No resources will remain untapped. The atomic bomb will be produced for Adolf Hitler!”
The words seemed to reach Dirk from far away. He felt physically beaten. Dammit, they had done their job. They had completed their mission. All they had to do was get the information they had obtained back to Corny. One way or another. And now they found themselves with a new job. A real ballbuster. And it was just beginning….