The double doors slammed against the wall like gunshots. Everyone jumped, and a file of SS troopers double-timed into the room and spread along the walls, weapons at port arms. Shocked silence filled the canteen. Bethwig, as the senior official present, strode to the SD officer who stood with hands on hips surveying the startled scientists.
‘What is the meaning of this interruption?’ Bethwig’s voice whipped through the silent room, and the officer, a hauptsturmführer, surveyed him lazily. ‘I have orders to…’
‘Stand to attention when you address a superior,’ Bethwig snapped, and the captain stiffened in reflex. Technically Bethwig’s pay grade as an army employee made him equal to a full colonel, but the SS was subject neither to military nor civilian control.
‘The next time you disrupt a scheduled meeting with your childish tactics, you fool, I will make you regret it to your dying day. Now, state your business immediately!’
The SS officer’s face went red as he struggled to retain control of himself.
‘State your business, sir,’ Bethwig demanded again, staring directly into the man’s protruding eyes.
‘I am ordered to arrest engineer Ernst Mundt immediately.’ The captain choked.
A shocked murmur ran through the room, and Mundt stood in confusion. Immediately two SS men ran forward to grab him, but Bethwig’s angry shout brought them to a halt as they began to hustle Mundt from the canteen.
‘You, sir – ‘ he addressed the officer – ‘will state the reason for this arrest and the authority by which it was ordered.’
The hauptsturmführer was on firmer ground here and knew it. ‘Engineer Mundt has been accused of aiding an enemy of the Reich, complicity in the murder of four security personnel, and consorting with the enemy. My orders are to bring him to SD headquarters for interrogation.’
Bethwig exploded. ‘Your orders are shit, Captain!’ he roared. ‘You have no jurisdiction here. Mundt is not a party member; only the state security police may charge and arrest him. Leave this canteen at once or I’ll see you on the eastern front by tomorrow night!’
The SS captain hesitated. He knew who Bethwig was, and his connections were rumoured to be extremely powerful. But he had his orders and they allowed no equivocation.
‘Stand aside, sir,’ the captain snarled, one hand going to his holster. The movement only enraged Bethwig further, and he would have grabbed the officer by the throat had Dornberger not arrived at that moment. Accompanying him were the senior SS officer at the facility and another man in civilian clothing whom Bethwig immediately recognised as Major Jacob Walsch. Bethwig ignored Walsch and made his protest to the senior SS officer. Dornberger joined in vigorously, the officer mumbled an angry order, and the SS troops filed out. Walsch had watched with a cynical smile, and when the SS had gone, he arrested Mundt and took him away. The staff meeting was cancelled. Dornberger and Bethwig dashed through the rain to a waiting car and drove in silence to Gestapo headquarters down the coast at Zinnowitz.
A massive storm of near hurricane proportions had broken during the night, and as they drove along the flooded coastal road broken and uprooted trees were everywhere, as were ragged POWs working with saws and axes to clear the debris under the watchful eyes of SS guards in rain gear.
‘Bastards,’ Bethwig ground out, slamming a fist on the dashboard. ‘How dare they…’
Dornberger started to observe that he and von Braun had brought it on themselves with their insistence on obtaining high political backing for their pet project, but wisely kept silent rather than provoke a further outburst. Covertly he studied Franz; over the past months the scientist had become increasingly morose, to the point where his attitude verged on sullenness. He had tried more than once to discover the cause, but Bethwig refused to be drawn. Even his relationship with von Braun had been badly strained of late. His work had not suffered yet, but his standing with staff was deteriorating at an alarming rate. First that outburst at Himmler last spring, and now this. He had better learn, and soon, that the SS was untouchable. He could not continue to attack and obstruct unless he wished to end up in a concentration camp. Bethwig was correct in his judgement that the SD had no jurisdiction over Mundt, that this morning’s nonsense was no more than another ploy to increase their power at the expense of the army. But there were other, more effective means of handling that kind of situation. Domberger had no doubt that if Bethwig had continued to interfere, the captain would have shot him dead on the spot – and, under SS guidelines, would have been perfectly justified in doing so.
Rain lashed the windows of Gestapo headquarters, and by leaning against the glass Bethwig could watch the waves crashing against the breakwater below. He was only half listening as a very confused Ernst Mundt described his conversations with a Belgian contract worker who, it appeared, had murdered four SD security men and was now missing. When Mundt finished, the thin Gestapo officer gave him a ghastly smile, meant to be reassuring, and indicated the stenographer.
‘Your statement will be typed shortly, Herr Mundt. I would appreciate it if you would wait to read and sign it. I will then have one of my drivers return you to your office. I appreciate your candour, and you really have nothing to worry about. It would appear that your actions were correct and that nothing has been revealed that should not have been. In any event, we will soon have the man, and that will take care of that.’
Mundt, now greatly relieved, was ushered out, but the Gestapo officer signed to Dornberger and Bethwig to remain. When the door closed, Walsch regarded them both with a trace of contempt.
That man is a fool. He has no conception of the political realities of war. It seems I have made this point to both of you before,’ he finished, eyeing Bethwig.
‘That man is an engineer and a scientist,’ Dornberger snapped. ‘He is not concerned with politics. That is your department.’
‘No, Herr Generalmajor. It is our collective responsibility. You and your staff…’
‘Enough of this nonsense,’ Bethwig snapped. Tell us what harm if any has been done, so that we will know what actions to take.’
The Gestapo officer stared at him for a long minute, then indicated the chairs before his desk. ‘Sit down, please.’ A long rumble of thunder muttered in from the sea, and the rain beat down even more insistently.
‘Perhaps you do not recall that in 1938 I had occasion to warn you about an English agent and loose talk?’
‘Yes, quite clearly. Your manners were insufferable then, and…’
Dornberger cut him off sharply and Walsch smiled. ‘Also, last year in Berlin you, Herr Doktor Bethwig, and I had a conversation in a cafe about a similar subject. I recall that you called me an incompetent ass. Well, Herr Doktor, it would seem that this same espionage agent has been here, at Peenemunde, working for Doktor Mundt. He is the man who murdered the SS officer and the three enlisted men who attempted to arrest him.’ The greyish light served only to heighten Walsch’s extreme gauntness by carving great hollows beneath his eyes and in his cheeks so that, for a brief moment, his face became a leering skull.