Wernher talked for nearly fifteen minutes, interrupted occasionally by his superior’s exclamations of delight. And each time this happened, the captain transferred his measuring stare to Dornberger for a moment, before returning to von Braun.
Von Braun suddenly leaned over and clapped his friend’s arm, startling him. Bethwig had been so engrossed in watching the strange captain that he had lost track of what was being said.
‘So I would say that Franz here was completely correct, as usual.’
Dornberger jumped up to shake his hand. ‘By God, Franz, I don’t know what I would do without the two of you!’ He slapped a fist into the palm of his other hand. ‘This may well solve the last major technical problem. Now we can proceed with the A-Three design.’
‘A-Three?’ Walsch murmured. ‘I do not…’
‘Our first large rocket,’ von Braun explained, his voice eager. ‘You see, we have not been able to build a rocket motor that was powerful enough or would last long enough to raise a really big rocket vehicle. But with Franz’s development we could build one large enough to travel to the moon if we wanted to!’
‘Ah.’ Walsch nodded and turned back to Dornberger as if von Braun’s statement was of no consequence.
‘You see, Captain,’ Dornberger said, glancing uneasily at Bethwig, ‘I told you these two are the most valuable on my staff. I had word yesterday that General Werner Fritsch, the army commander, will attend a rocket firing demonstration when we are ready. That means that we will probably be allowed to proceed to full-scale development shortly.’
Bethwig exchanged a puzzled glance with von Braun. It was not like Domberger to gush so, and to a total stranger.
‘Perhaps the general will reconsider when he discovers that two of his most valuable scientists cannot be trusted to control their tongues.’
Bethwig looked around so sharply that cognac spilled from his glass. ‘Captain,’ he said slowly, frowning as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. ‘Captain of what, may I enquire?’
Walsch favoured him with the ghost of a smile. ‘Certainly. I am with the Secret State Police Office, Division Three.’
‘Gestapo,’ von Braun exploded. ‘What have we to do with such people?’ he appealed to Domberger.
The scientist had jumped to his feet and now advanced on Walsch who snapped, ‘Sit down, young man. You are in serious trouble.’
Von Braun stopped short, face flushed, breathing heavily. He towered over the Gestapo agent who stared grimly back. Trouble? How could I be in trouble with… you?’
‘Division Three is, if I recall correctly, counterespionage, is it not?’
Walsch nodded in reply to Bethwig’s question.
‘And how should that concern Wernher and me? Surely you do not suspect us of being foreign spies?’
The Gestapo officer gave him a sour look and took a small notebook from his jacket. He thumbed through it deliberately until he found the proper page, then shifted to a more comfortable position and began to read aloud.
‘Your full name is Franz Hans Bethwig. You were born in Hamburg, 8 January 1909. Your father is a well-known banker and has been a party member since 1923. You yourself were enrolled in that same year. You were graduated from the Berlin Technical Institute in 1934 and have been employed since then by the Army Research Centre. So you are surely aware of the danger to the fatherland, surrounded as we are by enemies. Yet you deliberately chose to betray Germany.’ Walsch uttered the last sentence without inflection. Domberger, obviously unaware of the exact nature of the charges, goggled at the man. Bethwig laughed. He was thoroughly familiar with Walsch’s tactics.
The Gestapo agent was taken aback but only for a moment. He shot forward in his chair and pointed a finger. ‘You have betrayed Germany by speaking of classified military matters to an agent of a foreign power last evening in Arnsberg!’
At that, von Braun joined Bethwig in laughter. ‘Is that all, Captain? Then you are quite mistaken. The young man with whom we dined last night is an old friend and also a rocket enthusiast. He is a member of the British Inter—’
‘You fool!’ Walsch shouted. ‘We know exactly who this Jan Memling is. He is a member of the English secret intelligence service. He was sent to Germany to spy on our scientific progress. He is a scientist who was trained specifically for this task.’
Von Braun stared at Walsch in consternation. ‘No, you must be wrong. How…’
‘I assure you, Herr Doktor, we are rarely wrong. I myself followed this man on to the train at Aachen. Just before the frontier he was warned by an accomplice and jumped from the carriage. He crossed the border illegally before we were able to apprehend him. Several arrests have been made among the passengers, and we will know more shortly.
There are two questions’ – Walsch scowled at them – ‘which you are required to answer. First, how much of what you told this man concerns classified military secrets? And was it done deliberately?’
This was too much for Dornberger. ‘Captain Walsch,’ he roared, ‘you forget yourself. I protest these unwarranted accusations. I have known these men—’
The Gestapo agent waved a weary hand. ‘Colonel, I am very tired. I was forced to fly through this miserable weather to Berlin to speak with these two… gentlemen. I would rather do so here than at my headquarters. However, if you persist in interfering with my investigation, I shall have no choice but to summon assistance.’
‘I can assure you, Captain,’ Bethwig said evenly, ‘that not only did we not have the slightest inkling that this man was a spy, as you claim, but we did not pass on anything of military significance. I would, however, like to know why, if you were aware of his identity at the time, you did not intervene? It would seem that if there are questions to be answered, you have your share to contend with. For instance, the matter of the man escaping from the train? I would suggest not only that you make certain of your facts but that you be sure of the grounds on which you raise this ridiculous story to cover your own incompetence. Otherwise, you may find a lawsuit, or worse, lodged against you personally and your superiors as well.’
Walsch returned his confident smile. ‘Young man, by law the Gestapo is immune to civil proceedings. You would do well to curb your own tongue. I am aware of your father’s position in the party, and it does not deter me in the least. Do I make myself understood?’
Bethwig stood and bowed stiffly. ‘Completely, sir. We shall, however, have to wait for another time to see how this all turns out.’ He turned to a worried Domberger. ‘Good night, Colonel.’
Memling fumbled his key into the lock and entered. Although the walk from the bus was less than two blocks, he was chilled through. The parlour was cold, but coal was piled on the grate, and the house was spotless. The newspaper and magazines he had left beside the chair were now in the rack, and his sweater, he saw when he opened the cupboard to hang up his overcoat, had been washed. So, Margot had looked in while he was gone. Smiling, he slipped it on and stooped to touch a match to the shredded newspaper under the kindling. The fire caught immediately, and he adjusted the draught. While he waited for the fire to warm the room, he lit the kitchen gas ring and put a kettle on.
The clock showed five-thirty. He had spent most of the day in the writing-room completing his report, and he was too tired to be hungry. The small piece of ham and the cheese, which he found in the pantry, dry as they were, were sufficient. The kettle began to whistle, and he fixed a cup of tea and took the ham and cheese back to the parlour.
As he stood before the fire he glanced at the gleaming walnut and shining blue metal of the over-and-under-twelve-bore shotgun which his father had made. The old man had been well known for his fine shotguns, much good that it had done him. The old, dingy house was his only legacy, that and the gun and his own skills at making firearms.