The Reich Device (14 page)

S
ir Hugh Sinclair sat at his desk in the bowels of the SIS building on the London embankment. He tapped his gold Parker pen on the notepad, and then checked his wrist watch for the third time in as many minutes. He eased back in the chair and exhaled, taking comfort from the rich smell of the leather.

Was this a good idea or not?

He wasn’t sure.

In any event, things were in motion. Professor Einstein had come with a recommendation from Churchill; and the President of the United States, no less.

But he was still a
German
.

A timid knock on the door stirred Sinclair from his thoughts.

‘Come!’

His secretary stepped respectfully into the doorway. ‘Sir, Mr Einstein, sorry, I mean Professor Einstein for you.’

Sinclair stood up. ‘Thank you, please show him in.’

The secretary ushered Einstein into the room with a smile, shutting the door behind her.

Sinclair stepped out from behind the oak desk and stretched out his hand. ‘Thank you for coming to London, Professor.’

Einstein shuffled forwards in his ill-fitting dark suit, his eyes glazed over, as if detached from reality. He politely shook Sinclair’s hand. ‘Yes, yes, well I was already at a physics conference in Oxford.’

Sinclair held his grasp. Soft hands, a gentleman. He fixed his gaze on Einstein, and was met by the Professor’s dark impenetrable eyes. It was as if… the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

Something didn’t add up – was Churchill keeping something back?

‘Welcome Professor, please, take a seat.’ He gestured Einstein towards one of the more comfortable chairs on either side of the coffee table. ‘So, how did you find Oxford? This is your first visit to England I believe?’

Einstein shrugged, ‘It was fine. My colleagues there have treated me well.’

An empty pause filled the room. Sinclair decided to tackle the issue head-on. ‘Professor Einstein, you are here because of the Leipzig situation.’

‘Yes… the Leipzig situation,’ repeated Einstein, shaking his head.

‘I understand you know about the
document
… ’

‘Yes, the one we speak of… I read it in Leipzig. Mayer’s work is astonishing.’

Sinclair glanced around the room, and dropped to a whisper. ‘Let me give you my assurance. Our man has recovered the article in question.’

‘Oh, thank God… ’ Einstein closed his eyes, unable to conceal his relief, then sat upright, suddenly alert. ‘There was a draft and a final copy. You have them both?’

‘Yes. We have it all, both copies.’

‘That’s good, very good… ’ nodded Einstein. ‘Thank you, thank you… I cannot tell you how much relief this news brings.’ Einstein let out a long sigh; he had not slept in days. His brow suddenly knotted. ‘Who else knows about this?’

‘Nobody, well, except Mr Churchill, and your friend President Roosevelt. Then, it’s just
you
and
I
.’

‘What about your man?’

‘He was given strict instructions to recover the item, and read only enough to identify the correct document. He can be trusted and will take this secret to his grave. Anyway, he is a soldier not a scientist and would have no idea of the content.’

‘Then it is safe?’ Einstein studied Sinclair’s face for reassurance.

‘
Yes
, it
is safe
. In the personal possession of Mr Churchill, not even SIS will hold this information.’

‘There is more… ’ Einstein rubbed his brow. ‘… My friend, Professor Mayer, Gustav Mayer has gone missing. I am not sure where, but his life is certainly in danger. Soldiers have ransacked his office!’

‘Yes, we know. Our man tapped into the secure telegraph in Leipzig. It seems the Professor will be transferred to Berlin: some military installation a few miles south of the city. That’s all we have for now, except that he will be with other physicists and chemists. One of the other scientists is a fellow called Von Reichter. I believe you know him? What do you think this means, Professor?’

‘It would seem the Nazis are building something. If Von Reichter is there, then it will be rockets, or something else that uses similar technology.’

‘Do you think they know about Mayer’s work?’

‘No, Gustav would die rather than reveal this to the Nazis.’

‘I don’t know… ’ Sinclair shook his head, ‘… every man has his breaking point. If they interrogate him enough… well… he will surely talk.’

‘Interrogation! My God! We must get him out!’

‘My team is drawing up some plans as we speak, we will do what we can.’

‘Herr Hitler would regard that as an act of war if you used British soldiers to attack a German military installation on the edge of their capital city.’ Einstein’s shoulders slumped.

‘Don’t worry, we are well versed in this kind of work.’ Sinclair gave a wry smile.

‘Gustav
must
be saved. There can be no delay. The knowledge he holds is far too important,’ affirmed Einstein.

‘The military base is well defended, so a more subtle approach is needed, something that will not draw attention to Professor Mayer.’

‘It all sounds very risky,’ worried Einstein.

‘My man is working up a plan.’

‘A plan… yes… yes… good idea, an escape plan.’

‘Professor Einstein, we will do all we can, but if what you say is true, should the mission go wrong… we
could
not let Mayer remain alive.’

‘I cannot condone the killing of another human being.’ Einstein folded his arms in protest.

‘We may not have a choice,’ warned Sinclair.

Einstein knew that the argument was logical, but he also knew that Gustav was his friend. A friend who had entrusted him with possibly
the
greatest discovery of the next hundred years. That was a trust that he could not break. ‘Save him. Your man must find a way.’

‘It seems that you have some influential friends. Mr Churchill has already reiterated the importance of the mission. We are putting all of our resources and our best man behind the operation. We will do everything we can.’

There was nothing more that could be said.

Einstein and Sinclair rose from their chairs and shook hands again. Einstein held Sinclair’s grasp and stared into his eyes.

‘Please,
please
save him. You
must
save him.’

Sinclair changed his estimation of Einstein. This was probably one of the most important operations the SIS was ever likely to conduct, or so it seemed.

Nash waited inside Braithwaite’s tea shop. The Victorian opulence of Burlington Arcade filled the air with expectation. He fidgeted discretely in his chair, trying to relieve the uncomfortable itching of his Sunday best. It wasn’t working; the starched shirt rubbed his armpits and neckline.

He tugged at his collar to loosen the stranglehold of the tie, and exhaled. It didn’t seem to make any difference.

He stared at the flowery tablecloth, bone china cups, and the crisp white doilies. It was an idiotic idea, what the hell was he doing? Trussed up like the Christmas turkey, and for what?

His answer walked in through the door.

Dressed to perfection in a pink and white floral dress, her hair up in an elegant net. The pearls around her neck showed off her delicate features. She looked radiant; an English rose blossoming in the height of summer.

Nash’s heart melted. Emily was the daughter of an English gentleman. She was out of his league – and he knew it – but at that moment it didn’t seem to matter.

Nash jumped to his feet, and offered her the vacant chair at their cosy table.

‘Emily… you look… well, lovely.’ Nash smiled as she sat down. He inhaled gently, lingering on the fragrance. Her lavender scent soaked into his soul.

‘Thank you Danny, I don’t think I’ve seen you looking so smart in a long time.’ She smiled back.

Nash took his seat, grinning like an idiot.

‘Danny, I must say, this is a wonderful treat. I haven’t been here for years… well not since Mother left.’

Her radiant glow faded a little.

Nash thought it best to change the subject. ‘Darjeeling or Earl Grey?’

He beckoned the waiter over.

The young lad looked like a stuffed penguin in his serving outfit. Nash couldn’t help a smirk at the thought that suddenly popped into his head:
You and me both pal.

‘Would you like your afternoon tea now, sir?’

‘Yes, please. Emily, what will you have?’ Nash beamed.

‘Darjeeling please, thank you.’

The waiter nodded courteously, and scurried off to get their order.

‘So, Danny, you’ve been away again?’

Nash shifted his gaze, trying not to look Emily in the eye. ‘Yes, yes, I have.’

‘I don’t suppose you can tell me where. Another secret mission for my father?’

Nash absently picked up a silver teaspoon from the table and started fiddling it through his fingers. ‘Something like that… you know how things are in Whitehall.’

‘What happened to your face?’

She raised a hand to the scratches and splinter marks on his cheek. The silky touch of her fingers instantly raised his pulse.

Nash struggled to keep still. ‘Nothing much, just some flack.’ His mind flashed back to the dense woodland, and the scrape of the branches after diving out of the train from Leipzig. ‘You should have seen the other guy!’ Nash forced a comic cheesy grin.

‘Oh, stop it Danny! It isn’t funny!’ She tilted her head in mock disbelief and laughed.

Nash joined in the laughter.

The waiter arrived with their tea and gingerly placed a silver teapot, a round of cucumber sandwiches, and a platter of the most delightful cupcakes that Nash had ever seen on the table.

The laughter subsided.

‘Would you like some tea Mr Nash?’ Emily blushed as she served him tea.

‘Why, thank you, my lady.’ He gave a theatrical nod.

They erupted into childish laughter.

Nash passed the sandwiches, and sunk his teeth into a neat triangle of white bread. The bite of the cool crisp cucumber filled his taste buds with pleasure. Suddenly hungry, he devoured a couple of rounds. His heart pumped as he watched Emily delicately nibble on a slice of bread.

‘Tastes great doesn’t it?’ Nash grabbed another sandwich.

She chuckled between bites. ‘Danny! Your manners!’

He tipped his non-existent hat. ‘Sorry, my lady. It won’t happen again.’

She smiled and gave a mischievous laugh. ‘It’s
will not
… not
won’t
! We shall have to send you off for elocution lessons! Won’t we!’

‘Yes Madame, I’ll be on the next bus to Eaton!’

Emily chuckled. ‘Danny Nash, are you mocking me?!’

‘Certainly not, my lady.’ Nash dropped a sugar lump into his tea, and stirred it vigorously. Lifting the cup to his lips, he took a loud slurp.

‘Danny, that’s disgusting!’ She tittered into her napkin. ‘What would my father think!’

‘I think… I think he would send me on another mission!’

Emily wiped her lips slowly. Her smile dropped. ‘Danny?’

He grinned. ‘What?’

‘Danny, you’re going away again, aren’t you? That’s what this is all about!’ Moisture suddenly filled her eyes.

‘No… no… it’s not what you think.’ Nash reached across the table and caressed the back of her hand. ‘Emily, believe me. It’s not what you think.’

‘But you are going away?’

‘Yes… yes, I am.’ Nash lowered his head, unable to meet her gaze.

‘Danny, why?! First Father, and now you! Why do you have to go away again?’

Nash paused. Reaching inside his breast pocket, he produced a small blue box.

Emily flushed. ‘Danny, what are you doing?’

Nash flipped open the box.

‘It’s your mother’s engagement ring. I had the diamonds reset, with your father’s blessing of course… ’

‘Oh! Danny, it’s beautiful!’ Her white teeth shone through her perfectly plump lips. She cradled the little box in her palm, admiring the diamonds.

‘Emily, I… I have to tell you something, before… you know… ’

Her face soured. ‘Danny, say it… Danny!’

‘You’re right. I do have to go away again. I am not sure how long. But I thought… ’

‘You thought what Danny? You could marry me and then make me a widow the next day?! You’re just like my father. All the damned wars! The sudden absences, not knowing whether he was alive or dead! It destroyed her… ’

She began to sob.

‘Emily, no, it won’t be like that! I promise! I… I… ’

‘No Danny!’ She abruptly closed the box and tossed it across the table. ‘No Danny, I can’t marry you! You see… you’re already married to King and country – and my bloody father!’

She erupted in a flood of tears, and hastily pushed back the chair.

‘Emily, please!’

‘Danny, I can’t… I am sorry… ’

She dashed out of the tea shop, sobbing.

Nash slumped in the chair, the sound of the doorbell reverberating around his skull. The shop fell silent.

Numbed, he slowly picked up the blue box from the table, and dropped it back in his pocket. He closed his eyes against the pain, and reverted to type.

The shutters came down.

Emily was right: soldiering, King and country, were everything.

N
ash checked his watch – three in the morning – not too bad considering. Things were more or less on schedule. He wound down the window on the stolen German staff car, sucking in deep breaths of the cold night air, and gazed up at the sky. Utter blackness. Thick clouds blotted out the moonlight. There was no sound, save the gentle creak of the pine trees and the odd scurry of wildlife. The narrow forestry track had been a good choice; concealed from the road but, equally, not far from the target area – Kummersdorf.

He fidgeted in the driver’s seat, scratching at the stolen German uniform. It would have to do. He checked it over again for bloodstains. He wouldn’t pass as a German officer with a dirty uniform. He brushed off a grubby mark on the labels, and glanced at the corpse in the adjacent passenger seat; the guy looked well and truly dead. It was all part of the deception.