Chapter Five: Berlin, 1949
Hans didn't care to admit it, certainly not in front of his charge, but he was bored.
The last two days had been a headache, so much so that Hans was counting down the days until they returned to the rocket complex. Von Braun attended meetings and briefings, gave lectures and went to parties he wasn't supposed to know existed, hosted by people Hans knew Himmler would prefer had nothing whatsoever to do with Von Braun. Hans had heard rumours about perverse, even deviant, sexual tastes at the very highest levels, but he hadn't believed them until he'd seen the parties himself. Naked dancing girls were the very least of it, with young girls mingled in with men old enough to be their grandfathers, a level of perversity that shocked even Hans. Himmler, at least, was free of such tastes. Hans gritted his teeth and told himself they wouldn't last forever. The rats were only brave enough to indulge themselves when the
Führer was ailing, and when Himmler became the second
Führer they would be purged. They deserved no less. One could not build the New Order on such filth.
It was hard to keep himself from dragging Von Braun back to the Science Commission, after a meeting with Hermann Göring that had turned into an orgy that would have disgusted the Romans. Göring's reputation for indulging himself – if he could eat it, drink in, smoke it, or stick it where the sun didn't shine, he'd done it – was clearly understated, given the conditions in which he kept himself. Hans promised himself such a deviant would not become the next leader, no matter what it took. The odds were good Göring wouldn't survive long enough to throw his hat in the ring. Hans had watched dispassionately as
Untermenschen were drugged repeatedly, their bodies pushed to the limits to determine just how far the doctors could go, and they'd often died of overdoses. It was just a matter of time before Göring went the same way.
He didn't have a team of doctors carefully measuring each and every dose.
Hans kept his thoughts to himself, even when Von Braun returned home – two nights in a row – with a couple of young and impressionable female students and took them to bed. The silly girls thought their degrees would get them somewhere in life, particularly if they had the backing of someone like Von Braun, but they'd be lucky if they were allowed a certain degree of choice in who they married. The university was closely supervised by the SS as part of the
Lebensborn Program, to ensure that Germanic girls of above average intelligence were bred with equally smart German men, and no matter how smart the girls were the regime would never consider them anything more than mothers for the next generation of German
male scientists. It was ironic that Von Braun had never had any children, despite being a fervent womaniser. Perhaps one of his conquests had borne his child and passed it off as her husband's. It wasn't uncommon, although it was incredibly illegal. There was nothing more important than monitoring bloodlines and ensuring the purity of the Germanic
Herrenvolk.
And quite a few men have come home to discover their wives had children without their input, Hans reminded himself.
Those women went straight into the camps.
He was quietly relieved when Von Braun turned down an invitation to a gathering hosted by Joachim von Ribbentrop, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, even if it did mean attending another lecture. Ribbentrop wasn't anything like as perverse as Göring and his faction, but he made up for it by being incredibly boring and wilfully misinformed, perhaps even ignorant. Hans had served in Russia and he knew Ribbentrop had been wrong about a great many things, when he'd bored his captive audience to tears by making a speech about Russia's future prospects as a German territory. Hans wouldn't have trusted Ribbentrop to guess his weight, let alone provide reliable counsel on the
Reich's relationships with Britain, Turkey, and a handful of other countries. He'd heard that Ribbentrop's influence was declining – and that he'd lose what little he'd kept when Hitler died – but it was hard to be sure. If the succession crisis ended in a truce, Ribbentrop might manage to keep his post – and even expand it. Who knew?
The lecture hall was packed with hundreds of students, a security nightmare even though the vast majority of attendees had been vetted already. A student could not enter the university – dodging military service at the same time – without a pure-perfect bloodline
and an equally perfect record of political reliability. Hans rather thought that failing to report for military service was clear proof of the
lack of any sort of reliability, let alone patriotism, but Himmler disagreed and Hans had to admit he had a point. Von Braun and his peers could be irritating at times, no doubt about it, yet they were also vitally important to the future of the
Reich. A scientist or engineer who developed the next panzer tank, or jet aircraft, or rocket engine was worth a thousand infantry, no matter how loyal or fanatical. The
Reich was locked into an arms race with Britain and America, a race it had to win. And if that meant putting up with students who might lack political reliability ...
He shrugged, mentally, and forced himself to sweep the hall as Von Braun talked. He could be inspiring, Hans supposed, but no man was a hero to his minder. His eyes roamed across young men who were keen to emulate Von Braun, and young women who dreamed of being the first female rocket scientists ... or, perhaps more likely, hoped to find a suitable partner amongst the brain trust. The handful of older men – returnees from the front, most crippled – paid close attention, Hans saluted them as he passed.
Waffen-SS or
Heer, they had seen the elephant. The Russians drew no destination between the two, and neither did Hans. There was no room for such nonsense in combat.
The lecture finally came to an end. A handful of students hurried out – they'd probably been ordered to attend by their superiors, a practice Von Braun had tried to ban – but the remainder crowded around Von Braun. Hans hid his concern with an effort, hoping and praying none of the students were carrying knives. It wouldn't be
that hard to get a weapon into the university, despite the security precautions, and Von Braun
was a target. Hans didn't like the older man very much, but he had to admit Von Braun had few peers. His death would be a blow to the rocket program, as well as to Himmler's ambitions.
He sighed, inwardly, as Vin Braun finally disengaged, a woman dangling from his arm. Another poor bitch ... contraception was explicitly forbidden in the
Reich, and if she got pregnant it would be a disaster. For her. How would she prove paternity? How would she convince her husband that the child was his? Who knew?
Hans shrugged. It wasn't his problem.
We'll be back at the complex soon, he thought, tiredly.
And then we can put an end to all this nonsense.
***
Kathleen felt dangerously out of place as she slipped into the lecture hall and listened to Von Braun's speech. It was surprisingly detailed, for such a highly-classified subject as rocketry, but most of the high points were already common knowledge. The
Reich had made no attempt to classify the original technical papers, she thought, and most of the students had been vetted already. She wondered, idly, how many of them would go on to join the rocketry program, combining science theory and engineering practicality into one. They'd all want to work with Von Braun, she was sure, but most would be disappointed even if Vin Braun didn't flee the
Reich. The Nazis were expanding their rocket program, if intelligence was correct, and most of the newly-graduated students would be assigned to the newer missile complexes.
She gritted her teeth as she moved down towards the crowd of students surrounding Von Braun, trying not to respond to the handful of 'accidental' touches. It was an open secret that most of the female students were there to prove their intelligence, rather than go on to have careers of their own, and they got very little respect from their male peers. Kathleen had heard all sorts of horror stories, from students ordered to pair up by the administration to women being told to keep their rapist's baby, and she had a nasty feeling the stories were – if anything – understated. The Nazis had no qualms about kidnapping children from their conquests, if they were sufficiently Germanic, and bringing them up as Germans. Kathleen knew their eugenics program was nonsense, dangerous nonsense, but the Nazis believed they could breed a master race. She was mildly surprised Von Braun hadn't been ordered to sire hundreds of children. He really was as brilliant as the propagandists claimed.
Von Braun nodded to her, shortly, as she came up to him, and put a hand on her arm. Kathleen allowed herself to relax into his grip, even though she felt weirdly disgusted by the whole thing. A number of male students backed off quickly ... she grimaced inwardly, trying to hide her revulsion. It was just ... sick. Von Braun had claimed her, silently, and the younger men were surrendering to his claim. Kathleen couldn't help feeling sorry for the female students, even the ones who were clearly ardent Nazis, as Von Braun tugged her away. Britain wasn't perfect when it came to respecting women's rights, and she had lost count of the number of times she'd been talked down to by men who didn't have a tenth of her experience, but it was so far superior to the Third
Reich that it simply wasn't any contest.
Up close, Von Braun smelt of alcohol. Kathleen hoped to hell he'd splashed it on himself – an old trick – rather than actually drinking it. They'd need clear heads, if they were to put the plan into action. She leaned into him, keeping her eyes open without making it obvious, as he steered her through a maze of corridors. The
Reich University was huge, clearly designed for far more students ... she winced, inwardly, at just how many young men were doing their military service, or being assigned to plots of land in Poland or Russia with orders to turn them into functioning farms. She had been told that going to university was regarded as vaguely dishonourable, perhaps even cowardly. She hoped it was true. The German reputation for engineering wouldn't last long if all their best minds refused to go to university.
She leaned closer to Von Braun as they left the outer building, cold air slapping their faces, and stumbled towards the Science Commission. Her hands twitched, wanting to draw her pistol even though she
knew it would be suicide. Von Braun had assured her the guards didn't search the women he brought back to his apartment, every night, but if they were suspicious ... she stayed close to Von Braun, letting her hands roam over his body, as they passed through the gate. The look the guards shot her was envious, not suspicious. Kathleen didn't show her relief openly as they entered the building and headed up the stairs. The interior was brightly lit, but it also felt deserted.
Sweat prickled down her back as she kept going. British Intelligence had never been able to get a spy into the Science Commission, and they had very little to go on beyond second-hand reports that might not be particularly trustworthy. The upper levels of the Third
Reich were bewilderingly complex, without any sense of neatness or clear lines of authority; the Science Commission reported to the SS, she'd been told, but it wasn't actually part of the SS. Or was it? The SS was a murderous nightmare, but it was also a bureaucracy and bureaucracies had a tendency to grow.
The corridor was lined with black-and-white photographs, each one showcasing the
Reich's scientific might. A propeller plane, a jet plane, a set of rockets – each one bigger than the last – and devices she didn't recognise; other photos, seemingly darker, showed experiments carried out on humans and animals alike, the placards underneath praising the researchers for their success in developing medical treatments and prosthetic limbs, without mentioning how many concentration camp inmates had died before the scientists had finally figured out how to make them work. Their success was built on a pile of corpses ... she wondered, suddenly, just how many doctors had their own doubts about the program, just how many would consider defecting if they thought they could get away with it. Not many, she feared. The SS only allowed volunteers to work in such programs. Anyone who had doubts would have removed themselves long ago.
Von Braun opened a door and showed her into a suite. Kathleen looked around with interest. The Science Commission was supposed to have apartments for
all the
Reich's top scientists, from what she'd heard, and it definitely had an apartment for Von Braun. It looked like a fancy hotel, complete with a bell to summon room service and – to her astonishment – a television.
That was vanishingly rare. The
Reich bragged that every house would have a television one day, so the children could watch regime-approved programs that promoted the right attitudes, but so far televisions had yet to enter mass-production. The video player below the television was even rarer. She suspected the only reason Von Braun had it was to watch recordings of rockets being fired from the launch sites in Occupied France.
He bent over the television and slipped a video cassette into the player. The screen came to life, displaying a couple making love loudly and passionately. Kathleen flushed helplessly. Dirty postcards were one thing, but this ... her flush deepened as she realised the man on the screen was Von Braun himself, breathing heavily as he mounted the woman and slipped inside her ...
"We can talk now," Von Braun said, so quietly she could barely hear him over the racket. She had to admit it was a nifty idea. If there were listening ears, all they'd hear was passionate sex. "Is everything ready?"
Kathleen nodded. "Are you ready?"
Von Braun inclined his head, indicating a simple suitcase. "I have everything packed," he said. "We just need to get a body."
"Yeah," Kathleen said.
She studied him for a long moment. Von Braun looked ... fearful, but also determined. She allowed herself a moment of relief. It had been possible, all too possible, that Von Braun would change his mind, that he'd throw himself on the mercy of the SS or simply pretend nothing had ever happened. The paper he'd given her, on their last meeting, had clearly been important, but ... she knew her superiors would never approve admitting its existence, even if it was the only way to take him off the board. And if he had changed his mind ...
"It's time," she said. The clock was ticking. "Let's go."
***
Hans took off his jacket the moment he stepped into the Science Commission, then made his way to the Security Office. If he'd had his way, the entire complex would be wired for everything and the SS would have sole control over who came in and out, but the Science Commission worked hard to maintain a precarious independence from everyone else, balancing its commitments to the SS with commitments to the rest of the military, as well as the Organisation
Todt. It had been hard enough to get the apartments wired, and even
that was unreliable.
The duty officer looked up as he entered. "Not much to report,
Herr Sturmbannfuehrer," he said. "The doctor's gotten busy."
"I'm sure he has," Hans said. He felt a sudden flicker of annoyance. He was a Germanic German with a perfect bloodline, and a record of service that was second to none, and yet he wasn't married ... while Von Braun, a man old enough to be his father, had no trouble finding young women willing to bed him. Hans knew there were services that matched SS officers with young women, but asking to be matched felt almost like admitting defeat. "Anything from the perimeter?"
"No,
Herr Sturmbannfuehrer," the duty officer said. He wasn't SS, but he knew better than to waste Hans's time. "The big brains are in their suites, or in their labs. Some aren't alone."
Hans grimaced. It was
so much easier at the missile complex. He could say no, when the scientists wanted to bring their latest conquests back to the complex. Here ...
They want the scientists to sire children, he reminded himself.
And that means giving them a certain degree of latitude.
"Keep an eye on things," he said. Going by his previous record, Von Braun would screw his latest paramour senseless and go straight to sleep, then screw her again in the morning before telling her to get lost. He didn't have any appointments until the following afternoon ... a cunning ploy, Hans was sure, to make sure he had plenty of time for fun before getting back to work. "And alert me if there's any trouble."
He turned away and headed back to his room. The minders didn't get to sleep next to their charges, not here, nor did they get to share the bedrooms ... something else he would change, if he could. Von Braun was important, too important. He couldn't be allowed to indulge himself much longer, not when the
Reich was facing a multitude of internal and external problems. If the succession crisis turned violent ...
No, he told himself, firmly.
The Reichsführer-SS
has the edge. The others will fall in behind him.
And he hoped to hell, as he climbed into bed, that that was true.