Josef von Alvensleben – son of Ludolf von Alvensleben, the SS Gruppenführer who had run the infamous Valley of Death, an SS extermination camp in Poland – wasn’t about to be bullied by anyone. His father hadn’t exterminated hundreds of thousands of Polish Jews and communists for his son to scare easily.
‘We share your sense of urgency,’ he continued. ‘The world must be purged of the Untermenschen. We Aryans must take our rightful place. And we will, of course. But cautiously. And with proper planning. Don’t mistake our caution for reluctance to act.’
Kammler fought to suppress a sneer. He had grown accustomed to their reticence. To the snail’s pace at which they tended to act. To their cursed caution. And he abhorred it.
‘Eight devices; that we are agreed upon,’ von Alvensleben continued. ‘But do we have enough raw material? How much was retrieved from the tunnels at St Georgen?’
‘Two hundred and forty kilos,’ Kammler volunteered. ‘That was before the idiot film crew stumbled upon the tunnel complex. From that we hope to isolate a hundred and twenty kilos that is highly enriched and usable.’
‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but each device requires twenty kilos of HEU?’ The speaker was Walter Barbie, son of SS and Gestapo officer Klaus Barbie, the so-called ‘Butcher of Lyon’.
At war’s end, Klaus Barbie had been recruited into the CIA to serve as an agent in South America. He’d led a long and happy life, raising a family in the southern Argentinian town of Bariloche. Hence Walter, his eldest son, spoke German with a strong South American accent.
‘It does,’ Kammler confirmed.
‘Eight devices each of twenty kilos: the St Georgen haul leaves us a shortfall, does it not?’ Barbie pressed.
Kammler found the inquisitorial tone grating. He did his best to hide his resentment. ‘It does. Hence the need to go ahead with the deal offered by our friends in Moldova. Once we take delivery, we should have more than enough for our plans.’
‘You are to be congratulated,’ von Alvensleben remarked. ‘This is certainly progress.’ He paused, running his gaze around the others in the room. ‘But we also understand your plans have altered somewhat. Is that true?’
Kammler’s eyes grew cold. ‘Plans evolve, Josef.’
Von Alvensleben’s gaze didn’t falter. ‘Yes, and with each evolution we need to be kept informed. Fully briefed. We are your paymasters, your protectors. You know the protocols.’
‘Those who have money will always make money, no matter what catastrophe may befall humankind,’ Kammler remarked by way of answer. ‘The more dire the catastrophe, the more money there is to be made. This we all understand. And crucially, we have unrivalled finances and we will have ample forewarning.’
‘That’s as may be,’ von Alvensleben countered. ‘But still we need to be kept informed. We are hitting purely military and political targets, as agreed? That has not changed?’
‘It hasn’t,’ Kammler confirmed.
‘So what has changed?’ von Alvensleben pressed. ‘I have word that you have altered our plans significantly.’
Kammler eyed von Alvensleben. Who had given him word? Could there be a mole in Kammler’s set-up; a leak? He would check. Root it out mercilessly.
He brought himself to his full height. ‘It is a work in progress, Josef. Eight INDs simultaneously detonated at the targets we have agreed upon. I’m proud to say that we have managed to accurately predict the radiation envelope from each strike. We can now forecast precisely where the devastation will fall.’
Von Alvensleben gave a curt nod. ‘This is only as we intended.’
‘But it means we can better protect ourselves. Greater safety equals greater predictability for us all. A vital evolution, as I think you’ll agree?’
‘This is an improvement,’ Von Alvensleben conceded. ‘This is what we had hoped for.’
‘It is.’ Kammler smiled. ‘As for those who are not forewarned – those who are not the chosen – the results will be exactly as we intend.’
‘But this is still nothing new,’ von Alvensleben pressed.
Kammler feigned a smile. ‘I was holding back the best to last. Consider where the blame will fall. I have made certain arrangements so that responsibility will be placed at the feet of the North Koreans. Or at the very least, rogue elements in the North Korean regime.’
He gazed around triumphantly. ‘By fingering North Korea, we prove how communism really is a scourge on the earth. Doubly fertile soil for fascism to triumph. A stroke of genius, don’t you think?’
‘A stroke of genius,’ a figure sitting to the right of von Alvensleben confirmed. It was Wolfgang Eichmann, son of Adolf Eichmann, one of the chief architects of the Holocaust. ‘But how will you achieve it?’
‘North Korean teams are building the devices,’ Kammler replied. ‘Their expertise has proved critical. Without it, our plans are impossible to achieve. I’ll make sure the evidence is in place to reveal their involvement.’
The Kameraden nodded their approval. The North Korean factor was indeed a stroke of genius.
With it, Kammler figured he was winning them over.
25
‘We shall light a fire,’ Kammler announced, excitement burning in his eyes. ‘In the chaos and panic that ensues, we will seize power in all the ways we have planned. Between the eight of us in this room, we control a good slice of the world’s media. We will pump out the message even before the dust starts to settle: it is time for a new world order, one that only we can provide.’
Kammler gesticulated wildly. ‘Economies will lie in ruins. We will show that iron law and order is needed to build a sustainable future. And that is something that only we – the global Nazi brotherhood; fascism – can deliver.
‘The world’s public – bloodied, reeling, thrust into a terrible recession – will be ready! At last, right-thinking people will be ready. The message of liberalism and tolerance – of equality – will be exposed for what it is. A sham that has robbed the Aryans of our birthright.’
‘And the targets – they remain the same?’ von Alvensleben queried pointedly. He was nothing if not persistent. His repeated circling back to this question was starting to grate. Maybe he did know something.
‘They do, Josef, as I’ve already said. Why would they have changed?’
‘The countries to be attacked?’
‘We’ve been through all of this before,’ Kammler snapped.
‘The countries?’ von Alvensleben pressed.
‘China. Russia. The US. Britain. France. Canada. Then Israel, as the grand finale. You’ll be pleased to know the prevailing winds will ensure that much of Israel is enshrouded in fallout.’ Kammler flashed a thin smile. ‘Gentlemen, what Hitler began, we will finish in one fell swoop.’
‘That’s seven by my count,’ von Alvensleben pointed out. ‘Seven nations. Eight is the sacred number.’
‘China will be hit by two.’
‘Why China?’
‘The Americans and British like to perpetuate the myth that they won the war. More lies. The single greatest loss of life was suffered by China. Over twenty million dead. In essence, the Chinese – along with the Russians – bled us dry. For this, we will make them suffer disproportionately.’
‘And the targets – they remain exclusively political, military and economic?’ von Alvensleben pressed. ‘There will be no mass murder for mass murder’s sake?’
Kammler eyed the man. He was nothing if not sharp. ‘Correct.’
‘Please send me an up-to-date target list. Indeed, you might circulate it to all.’
‘Gladly.’
‘Timings,’ von Alvensleben remarked. ‘Has there been any impact upon the schedule?’