A thin-faced man in an old trench coat stopped by the next table, flipped open a wallet, shoved it under the nose of a soldier wearing an eastern front campaign ribbon, and ordered him and his girl to leave. The soldier started to protest, but the gaunt man asked the girl for her name. They went quickly then, and the man sat down and snapped his fingers for the waiter. He turned and smiled at Bethwig. Captain Jacob Walsch.
Bethwig hesitated. Uncertain, then angry, he got up and approached the table. Walsch, smiling lazily at him, stood. The other patrons had witnessed the scene with the soldier and now stopped their conversations to watch.
‘Captain Walsch, I believe?’
The Gestapo officer inclined his head. ‘Major, Herr Bethwig. I received a promotion a year ago.’
‘My congratulations, Major. Cream rises to the top, they say. But then, so does sewage. I was speaking about you just the other day, to Reichsführer Himmler.’
Walsch nodded, on guard now. ‘I am most flattered that you remembered me.’
‘Yes,’ Bethwig went on, his voice rising a bit so that the other patrons could hear. ‘I believe I told Herr Himmler that you were an ass.’ Bethwig chuckled into the sudden silence. ‘An incompetent ass, I think I said.’
Tension was palpable in the tiny restaurant, and the head waiter started as if to intervene, but another waiter wisely held him back.
‘I am sorry that you retain such a poor opinion of me…’
‘You brought the charges against Herr Doktor von Braun, did you not?’ Bethwig continued. ‘Only an incompetent ass would present such a monstrous series of lies in the form of an indictment. You, Major Walsch, are a disgrace to the position you hold and to the Reich.’ Bethwig had carried his half-empty glass with him, and as he finished speaking he threw the contents into Walsch’s face. The Gestapo officer jumped back, tripped against his chair, and fell over backwards. Bethwig calmly extracted a five-mark note from his wallet and tossed it on the table.
‘That will pay for cleaning your coat, Major. Good day.’
He turned and walked out of the restaurant to the spontaneous applause of the other patrons as waiters rushed to help Walsch. One began dabbing his coat with salt and water, but Walsch pushed him away and went to a telephone.
It was a foolish thing to do, Bethwig thought as he strode along the busy street. A cloud had passed in front of the sun, easing the heat but increasing the mugginess. The city had suddenly become stifling. He returned to his hotel room and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening sitting by the window with his shirt off, enduring the heat and the uncertainty. The summons to Himmler’s office came the next morning.
Himmler was standing with his back to the room, peering through the heavy curtain behind his desk. The single ray of sunlight dispelled some of the gloom, enough anyway to permit Bethwig to see von Braun sitting in the chair before the desk. A second chair had been placed two metres away, also facing the desk. Von Braun half turned to see who had entered; his face was expressionless.
‘Please have a seat, Herr Doktor Bethwig.’ Himmler dropped the curtain and turned, twisting the pince-nez between his fingers. He took a gold pocket watch from his trousers, snapped the lid open, and gazed off into space as if considering. Then, having decided, he shut the lid and put it away.
‘Come, come. I haven’t much time. I must leave shortly for a tour of our resettlement camps in the Government-General of Poland. My staff expects to demonstrate their latest procedures.’ He was smiling now as he motioned to the chair.
‘But then, you two gentlemen do not wish to hear about my administrative problems. I am certain that you have sufficient of your own.’
Bethwig sat down, glancing cautiously at von Braun, who was staring at Himmler with a look that Bethwig could not quite describe. There was a bandage on his forehead and several bruises about his chin. When he moved his head, he did so as if his neck were stiff. The image of Inge’s battered body flashed across his mind.
‘I suggest, then, Herr Himmler,’ von Braun rasped, ‘that we stop all needless conversation and get right to the point.’
Himmler raised an eyebrow at him but only murmured, ‘As you wish.’
Von Braun turned by twisting his upper body so that he was looking at Bethwig. ‘Herr Himmler has made an interesting proposition. I refused to give him an answer until you could hear it as well.’ Himmler nodded in agreement. ‘Basically he is offering to allow work on the A-Ten to continue, but under his sponsorship and direction. Herr Himmler is convinced that Reichsprotektor Heydrich was doing the correct thing when he instituted the project.’ Von Braun’s voice had a sarcastic tone that Bethwig had never heard before. ‘We are to meet the time schedule laid down by Heydrich.’
‘That’s all?’ Bethwig glanced at Himmler, thinking that Heydrich had won after all and that this had all been a charade… to a point.
‘All? What more would you expect?’
‘The charges, Herr Reichsführer. What about them? Does Doktor von Braun remain under – what is your fancy legal term? Schutzhaft, protective custody?’
Himmler waved a hand. ‘Ah, the charges. Probably nonsense as you suggested the other day. In due course the investigation will be completed and, if warranted, the charges dismissed. In the meantime I see no reason why an eminent scientist such as Doktor von Braun should not, with the proper security supervision, of course, continue work that best serves the Reich.’
‘With the proper security supervision? I understand that political prisoners and Jews are allowed to function under those conditions. Not eminent scientists.’
‘Well, young man, you must keep in mind that Doktor von Braun has been charged with a serious crime. I would be derelict in my duty if I neglected to order such supervision, particularly when the person in question is engaged on a project of the highest importance to the Reich.’
‘Of course,’ Bethwig murmured. ‘Derelict.’ He turned to von Braun who was staring down at his hands. ‘What do you think, Wernher?’
Von Braun nodded without looking up, and Bethwig noticed that a bruise on his cheek was fresh enough to show a crust of blood. ‘Was that necessary?’ He swung back to Himmler, who seemed to know exactly what he meant. The Reichsführer shrugged.
‘You must understand that the SD deals with the worst sort of animal, the traitor. Because they are exposed to this filth so often, they tend to become overzealous.’ There was no hint of apology in his voice.
Bethwig restrained a comment. ‘As I understand it, then, the project will be allowed to continue as before. Will the army not have something to say about such interference?’
Himmler smiled. ‘The OKW has agreed with my assessment and stand ready to co-operate. As Doktor von Braun remarked, I believe that my good friend Reinhard made a wise choice. Yes, the project must continue, on the schedule as modified by the Reichsprotektor’s planning staff.’
That was too much for Bethwig and he started to protest, but von Braun held up a hand. ‘Never mind, Franz, we will do our best.’
Himmler bounced to his feet then as the door opened and the ubiquitous aide stepped in.
‘I apologise for my haste, but I do have to leave. An officer will be assigned to act as co-ordinator. Webel here will provide the details.’ Himmler stopped half-way across the room and turned once more to face them.