Most crucial of all, the bombers hadn’t hit Silbervogel. The spacecraft was in two adjacent work sheds: one containing the engine assembly, the other the unfinished fuselage. Neither was so much as scratched. When von Braun saw this, he felt his knees grow weak, and he had to grab Dornberger’s shoulder for support. If Silver Bird had been destroyed, the entire project would have come to an end; there was not enough time or money to start over again. And he didn’t want to even think about the Führer’s reaction. Hitler was notorious for not accepting failure even when it was for reasons beyond anyone’s control.
All the same, it was obvious that Silbervogel had to be moved from Peenemünde. The RAF could return at any time, and the next raid might not miss the most important targets.
Only a few weeks ago, Himmler had come through on his promise to find a launch site. Von Braun hadn’t yet taken a close look at the SS memo that had landed on his desk, but apparently it involved a couple of abandoned railway tunnels that had been carved into a mountainside somewhere in the Harz Mountains. There were also proposals to put the launch site in Poland or Austria, but both Dornberger and von Braun were opposed to this; it would be difficult enough to transport the spacecraft by rail across Germany, let alone to another country.
For now, though, the most immediate concern was cleaning up from the air raid. Von Braun set up a temporary headquarters office in his living room; Walter and Lise had found clothes by then, and both were working with him to organize the salvage operations. That would take a while, of course, but once that was done, the next step would be to work out a plan for relocating the entire project from the seacoast to the mountains.
Perhaps it was too soon to even begin thinking about such things, but von Braun needed the distraction. He felt numb, body and soul, from the violence of the night before; many people were dead, among them one of his oldest friends, and he was all too aware that the bombs had been meant for him, too. If he thought about it too much… No, it was better to work and exhibit the leadership the survivors needed just then.
He and Lise had only begun, though, when the rumble of motorcycles heralded the arrival of a motorcade. Von Braun had no sooner risen from his desk than the front door slammed open, and two soldiers stomped into the front hall. And right behind them, resplendent in a tailored white uniform, swaggered the bloated figure of Hermann Goering.
“Wernher!” A broad grin stretched across the general’s fleshy face. “So good to see that you’re still alive!”
“Da, Herr Reichsmarschall.” Ignoring the friendship Goering pretended to share with him by using his first name, von Braun took a formal stance, back straight and arms at his sides. As usual, Dornberger came to attention, his right arm snapping forward in a brisk salute that Goering didn’t seem to notice. From the corner of his eye, von Braun saw Lise stiffen. His secretary had once confessed to him, following one of the Luftwaffe leader’s earlier visits, that she could practically feel Goering’s eyes crawling over her. She’d begged von Braun never to leave her alone with him, and von Braun knew why. There were rumors about Goering’s sexual appetite, and rape was not beneath him.
“And I’m pleased to see that your lovely secretary is safe as well.” Goering hadn’t forgotten her, and Lise blanched when he favored her with a smile. Removing his white kid gloves, Goering found an armchair big enough to support him and sat down heavily. “I don’t suppose she could bring us coffee, could she?”
“Fraülein, bitte?” Von Braun dismissed Lise with a glance, and she disappeared through a swinging door into the kitchen. He hoped for her sake that she’d take her time. “So, Herr Reichsmarschall… what brings you here?”
Goering raised an eyebrow. “Come now, Herr Doktor. You don’t think I’d abandon you in your moment of crisis, do you? As soon as I heard about the raid, I drove here straight from Berlin.” Frowning, he shook his head in commiseration. “Horrifying. Utterly horrifying. England will pay dearly for its temerity.”
“As you say.” Von Braun had to work at keeping a straight face. It was well-known that Goering’s stature within the High Command had taken a major blow when the Luftwaffe failed to bring about Great Britain’s surrender. His planes could no longer cross the English Channel without being intercepted, and since he had forced Peenemünde to abandon the A-4 in favor of the far more ambitious Silbervogel, it was hard to see how he could make good on his threat.
Goering nodded. His pig eyes never left von Braun’s face; Wernher knew that he was being studied, assessed for any sign of disloyalty or weakness. “Quite,” Goering said drily. “I take it that you’re following Herr Himmler’s advice and preparing to move your operations to a less vulnerable location, yes?”
“As we speak, I’m preparing to determine how long it will take for us to relocate to…” Von Braun paused. “I’m sorry, but the name of this place escapes me.”
“Nordhausen. That’s the town nearby, but we will be calling the facility something else… Mittelwerk.”
“Yes, thank you for reminding me. May I…?” Goering gave him the slightest of nods, and von Braun resumed his seat behind the desk. “It may be some time before we can leave, though. Most of our casualties were among the labor force. Not just the foreign workers, but also the war prisoners we’ve been using lately. Without them…”
“I’ll requisition more soldiers to assist you with the relocation effort. And you need not concern yourself with finding a source of labor at Mittelwerk. Herr Himmler has seen to this as well.” Goering shrugged. “I’m sorry, though, but we’ll no longer be employing any civilians who aren’t German citizens. The security risk is too high… and I’m convinced that one of the reasons why the British were able to strike us with such accuracy is that they had spies among the foreign workers. We caught two already.”
“That’s entirely possible, Herr Reichsmarschall,” Dornberger said, still standing at attention beside von Braun’s desk. “However, I’d like to point out that, since late last year, we’ve been careful to keep foreign workers away from the vital facilities. I doubt very strongly that the British or their American allies have learned anything about Silbervogel.”
Goering shook his head. “Perhaps so, Colonel, but we cannot take a chance based on that assumption. I’ve consulted Admiral Canaris, and on his advice, I’ve ordered the Abwehr to take active measures that will prevent the Americans from engaging in any countermeasures.”
“Active measures, Herr Reichsmarschall?” Von Braun blinked. “My apologies, but I fail to understand what you’re talking about.”
“In the past, you’ve told us of the American scientist who’s their key expert in rocketry… Dr. Robert H. Goddard, I believe?” Von Braun nodded, and the monster sitting across from him smiled. “You won’t have to worry about him for very much longer. The Abwehr is taking care of that particular problem. Herr Doktor Goddard will be found and liquidated.”
Von Braun felt a chill of horror. He suddenly wished that he’d never said anything about Goddard to Goering. He had nothing against Goddard; in fact, he greatly admired him even though Goddard had deliberately ignored Hermann Oberth’s request to share technical information with the VfR.