The Hess Cross (36 page)

"My God, John, what's going on?"

"Smithson's dead. Your pal Kohler's dead. Both by my hand. And you've got one minute to tell me what's going on."

"John, for God's sake . . . "

"Where's Hess?"

"He's up in his room. Where else would he be?"

"The stormtroopers?"

"In their room, chained to their beds. John, you've got to listen for a minute. I've been interrogating von Stihl. You know, he's got a head wound and—"

"Your minute's running, Ludendorf." Crown had not lowered the pistol.

"Listen closely, John. Enrico Fermi is in mortal danger at this very moment. I've been trying to get you for ten minutes, ever since von Stihl started babbling about the explosives they stole."

Crown's gun hand lowered slightly. "What about the explosives?"

"Apparently they still had half of it after the raid on the navy station."

"I know that."

"Von Stihl gave it to a technician, one of Fermi's technicians."

"When?"

"He didn't say. He wasn't very coherent."

"Did he tell you the guy's name?"

"No, he just said a technician."

"What else did he say?"

"Well, I'm putting it all in the report, and you can read it later. But he said that when a needle on their Geiger counter reaches the red mark, whatever that is, the bomb will go off."

"The self-sustained mark," Crown said to himself.

"Von Stihl said the technician wired it so none of the other scientists would know."

"Have you called the lab?" Crown said as he slipped the revolver into his waistband.

"Oh, God. I just found this out ten minutes ago, and—"

"Get the keys for Hess's cell."

As they climbed the stairs past the guard, Crown said, "It all makes sense now, Professor. Hess isn't crazy at all. He flew to Scotland and began talking about atom bombs, knowing none of his interrogators would understand a word of his scientific jargon, not even you. So Hess knew he would be brought to wherever the U.S. experiments are, so the top scientists could talk to him. Hess was used to locate the American experiment. He's got no amnesia or stomach cramps.

"Von Stihl supplied the explosives. No wonder they could buy Smithson and that technician and Kohler. German victory depends on it. They probably offered them so much money it overwhelmed them. Weak links are easy to find when tested with that much cash."

"So they're trying to kill Fermi?"

"Yes. If they do, the U.S. experiments will be in chaos. Fermi told me today that the German fission experiments have bogged down. They've made a bad mistake in their calculations. Hitler knows he's losing the atom-bomb race, so he sacrificed his deputy to gain an edge. Killing Fermi and destroying the experiment would give the Germans perhaps another year."

"Hess was just bait?"

"That's right, Professor."

They paused in front of Hess's door while the guard threw the bolts. The professor's face was open, and Crown anticipated the next question accurately.

"I was just a goat, then," the professor said.

"Regrettably, yes. All that fabulous strategic information Hess gave you during your early interrogations in London was designed to make you and the Allies think Hess was insane. His information ensured we would believe him when he began to talk about the German experiments. We swallowed it hook, line, and sinker. And who could blame us? I've never heard of anyone throwing away that many men before. But then, the Germans know they're going to lose the war if they don't get the bomb first. I suppose Hitler and Hess think the men were a small price to pay."

Crown glanced at his wristwatch as the last bolt cleared. "It's fifteen minutes to three. Fermi's experiment could be as early as three o'clock."

Rudolf Hess was sitting in the rocking chair reading an issue of
Life
when Crown entered his room and said, "It's all over, Hess."

Hess didn't look up from the magazine as he rocked back and forth.

"This magazine is much better than anything we've got in Germany," he said in his wandering voice. "Photo journalism. Isn't that what it is called?"

"Smithson and Kohler are dead. I know about the bomb planted at Fermi's experiment."

Hess blinked several times, then recast his face. The deputy führer's eyes transformed from the vacant, staring, shallow pools of a lunatic to the penetrating eyes of one accustomed to power. His jaw firmed, and for the first time in Crown's presence, he did not assume the silly smile of a weak-minded sycophant. Crown saw the Rudolf Hess who could enthrall 100,000 Nazis at a mass rally with visions of
Germany's destiny, and who could plan the invasions of Poland and Czechoslovakia. Power flowed into Hess's features, and in a two-second transformation, he became a commanding presence.

"I see," he said in his deep, resonant voice, devoid of the flecks of insanity. "So you have discovered our operation, Mr. Crown."

"Get your coat."

"My immediate superior will not be pleased."

"You'll never see him again, anyway."

"No, but nevertheless . . . " Hess's voice trailed off as the full meaning of Crown's words surrounded him. "My trip to Scotland has gone for nothing. All those soldiers we forfeited. Well, it was a gamble." He tied his shoelaces. "I want you to know, Mr. Crown, that we weighed all the risks. We knew what this mission would cost. The Führer and I did not go into this venture with our eyes closed."

"Hurry, Hess."

"It's important that you understand. We Germans are losing the war. It has gotten much worse since I left Germany. You've heard of our Russian-front debacle? That's the beginning of the end. I'm sure of it. The Führer is more far-sighted than you believe. He knew we had to have the atom bomb. The fate of the Third Reich was the stakes. Can you understand this?"

Crown nodded, to hurry him. Hess wrestled into his raincoat.

"I want you to know, I want at least one person to know, that I'm not insane and that I acted with purpose and forethought. History will record me as a deserter and a lunatic, but you'll know the truth."

"Do you know how the bomb is wired?"

"I have no idea."

"What's the technician's name?" Crown asked as he took Hess's arm to guide him out of the EDC house.

"If I told you that, I would truly be a traitor."

"I can simply have Fermi postpone the experiments to look for the bomb."

"Any delay is better than none for Germany."

"Get into the car."

Three minutes later they arrived at the Stagg Field grandstand. Crown was pushing it now, knowing the explosives would go when the needle hit the self-sustained mark. Fermi had said between three and four o'clock. It was 3:10. With his identification card in one hand and Hess's elbow in the other, Crown hustled Hess through the door on the south wall of the lobby. Crown rapped on the inner door with the same code Fermi had used several days before. A guard admitted them and then opened his fingerprint pad.

"I don't have time for that," Crown said without breaking step. He pushed on the next door, but it remained closed.

"I'm afraid everyone must be printed and checked," the guard said. He was wearing a brown business suit two sizes too small for him. His ink-black hair was carefully combed.

"Do you know who I am?" Crown asked, his voice stiffening.

"Sure, Mr. Crown, but this is procedure here . . . "

The guard stopped mid-sentence as the barrel of Crown's pistol bit painfully into his lip.

"Open the door. Now."

The guard forgot procedures as he clicked the signal switch and the iron door swung open. "You'll get reported for this, Crown," he yelled after them.

They descended the steep stairs to the court observation level. The piles of graphite that had lined the walls during Crown's tour had disappeared. The hall was dim and dank and smelled of mold. An army guard leaning against the hallway wall nodded to Crown.

"Has anyone come out of the observation room in the last few minutes?" Crown asked.

"No, sir. Not for an hour or so. They got all the scientists
in there watching the experiment. Today must be the big day. None of them is going to miss it."

"One of them will try. We'll wait here."

A small smile crossed Hess. "So you are not calling off the experiment, Mr. Crown," he said in a low voice suitable for the sparsely illuminated hall. "Perhaps my mission will be successful, after all."

"Don't count on it, Hess. I'm a great believer in the instinct for survival."

As the echo of Crown's words died in the hall, the observation door opened, and a white-coated technician walked into the hall. Crown recognized him as the curly-dark-haired white-coat he had seen working on the components at a table during his tour of the court. Crown waited until he tried to pass them, then slapped the corner of the technician's eyeglasses. A thin stream of blood spurted from the side of the white-coat's nose where the spectacles' nose rest dug into the skin. The technician grabbed for his glasses, but Crown hit his wrist with the pistol barrel. When the technician opened his mouth to cry out, Crown's pistol barrel hit his jaw. Any movement produced pain, so the technician stood still, and Crown said, "Running away from something in there? Let's go back and find out what."

He shoved the white-coat toward the door and grabbed Hess's elbow again. The guard's face reflected his puzzlement, but he wasn't about to question the flying pistol. Crown opened the observation-level door and shoved them through it.

It was a historic scene, one that would be remembered in the legend of science with the Wright brothers' first flight and Galileo's gravity experiments from the Tower of Pisa. Enrico Fermi was bent over the table, peering at the particle-counter needle. His head nodded between the needle and the scientist below him on the squash-court floor, who had his hands above his head, pulling the cadmium rod inch by inch from the graphite pile.

'Try it another inch, Jack."

The rod was slipped out a little farther. The needle climbed almost imperceptibly. "A little more."

Eight or ten scientists and technicians peered over Fermi's shoulder at the gauge. They stood with their hands behind their backs or at their sides, with their fists alternately clenching and relaxing. Like Fermi's, their gazes bounced between the needle and the rod. Occasionally one looked to the platform above the pile, where two technicians dressed in heat-resistant uniforms knelt with buckets of dousing solution in their hands, ready to drench the pile if the reaction became overheated. As Fermi had once mentioned to Crown, stopping a reaction that was slightly overheated was one thing. Dousing an uncontrollable fission reaction may be impossible. No one knew the consequences if it raced out of control.

Tension was palpable in the squash court. This moment was the culmination of years' work. These scientists were on the verge of unlocking America's energy destiny, and, more tangibly, altering the war's course. Other than Fermi's tense commands, no one spoke. Only the counter marked the tension, with its eerie, erratic ticking.

"Another inch, Jack."

The needle moved slightly more toward the red mark, and the ticking increased. The scientists and technicians inhaled as one. The men on the rigging never looked away from Fermi, waiting for the order to dump the solution.

None of the scientists noticed Crown and Hess and the returning technician.

"It goes off when the needle hits the red mark, Hess," Crown whispered.

"I'm aware of that."

"We're going to get our asses blown away."

Hess nodded "The Führer and I went to a lot of difficulty to have that bomb placed there. You don't think I will order it diffused just because I will die with the others, do you?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Fermi played with a dial on the instrument panel and called for another inch to be pulled out of the pile. Once again, the dial moved closer to the red line, and the ticking increased. The sound was less erratic now and was beginning to dominate the room.

"You are a dedicated and dangerous man, Crown," Hess said, looking intently at the dial, "but I do not think you want to die today."

Crown shrugged his shoulders.

"Does a million dollars mean anything to you, Crown?"

"We're going to be blown away in a minute, Hess. We won't even know what hit us. It'll ruin our whole day."

"One million dollars. I could have it to you within twenty-four hours. Think of it."

The technician was breathing hard, and his forehead was beaded with sweat. He kept glancing at a panel of controls on his left.

"All you have to do is walk away with me from here right now. You don't have to let me free," Hess said anxiously. "Just walk away."

"Once again, Jack." Fermi's voice was on edge now. His right hand tapped the table nervously. The needle moved again. It was an inch from the red line. The ticking increased, so that it sounded like radio static. The squash court seemed steamy. "We're just a little away."

"No one would ever know the difference, Crown. They will all be dead. One million. That's everything you've always wanted."

Crown heard the tremor in Hess's voice. They were thirty seconds from being vaporized, and all it was was a tremor. Shit. Not enough. The technician might break, though. He looked ill with terror.

"Look at the needle, Crown. We can make it if we move now. Your whole life depends on the next half-minute,"
Hess said. There was worry in his voice now. "No more waiting for your government paycheck month after month."

Fermi was very quiet. "Half an inch more. Be careful, Jack. Get ready up there."

The scientists leaned forward to watch Jack gingerly pull on the rod. The ticking increased slightly, and the needle climbed higher. No one breathed.

Hess wiped perspiration from his forehead. "Crown, think. This is our last chance. Let's go." Almost hysteria.

Crown's face was indifferent, and his feet were firmly planted. He was going nowhere. The technician was swaying, on the verge of fainting.

"Just a fraction more, Jack. Then we'll have it."

The needle moved and almost touched the red. Hess panted like a thirsty dog. Five interminable seconds passed.