The Haigerloch Project

Sig had been watching and listening closely. Involuntarily he let out a deep sigh. It startled him. He had expected Himmelmann's confirmation. But it was quite another matter to hear it spoken so bluntly.

“Who heads the Project?” Dirk asked.

“Professor Reichardt. Dieter Reichardt.”

Dirk frowned. “The name is not familiar. What kind of a man is he?”

“As a scientist he is brilliant. Politically he is naïve,” Himmelmann said. “His standard for measuring intelligence in his colleagues is the degree of their acceptance of his ideas.” He smiled a strange, cynical smile, the corners of his mouth pulling down instead of up. “Brilliance in blinkers.”

“How long have you been involved with the Haigerloch Project?” Dirk asked.

“I have been working in atomic research directly for many years,” Himmelmann answered, his voice flat. He regarded Dirk steadily. “The Project here and now is the culmination of years of extensive research and experimentation at several locations elsewhere in Germany.” He took a deep breath and continued in a monotone. “Early this year the crucial heavy-water atomic pile, the B-VIII, at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute in Berlin, was dismantled and moved by truck convoy to Haigerloch. I came with the convoy. At the end of February, reconstruction of the pile was begun.”

He paused.

“What's the status of the pile now?” Dirk asked. “How — how close are you to being successful?”

Himmelmann's mouth drew downward in his disturbing smile. “Successful?” he asked, bitterness making his voice harsh. “The efficiency of the B-VIII pile has already far surpassed all previous results.” His bleak eyes bored into Dirk's. “A couple of days ago — in the early morning of March twenty-fourth, to be exact — the pile almost went critical. We now have all the answers. Next time — in a matter of weeks, perhaps days — we will be successful.” He looked away. “There is still time to build the Führer's atomic bomb…. Our work has been intensified. Speeded up. On his orders…”

“Have you any—”

Suddenly Oskar banged his stein down on the table, sending droplets of amber liquid splashing over the rim.

“I don't care what you say,” he stated in a loud, emphatic voice. “The switch on number two works one hell of a lot better since they fixed it.”

Dirk looked at him. He took a deliberate pull on his beer and wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand, as he had seen Oskar do.

“That's your opinion, Oskar,” he drawled. “I say it is still an ass-buster.”

Oskar looked after a pleasantly open-faced young man with a grease smudge on his forehead who had just passed by the table. “Gestapo informer,” he said quietly. “Works in the yard. He thinks he is undercover. Otto made him weeks ago.”

Dirk turned back to Himmelmann.

“What about security?” he asked. “How thorough is it?”

The German frowned. “It is strict,” he said. “Strict and all-encompassing. Since Colonel Harbicht took over — even more rigid.”

“Harbicht?”

“Gestapo. Head of the regional Abteilung in Stuttgart. He has only recently taken personal charge of security in the Hechingen-Haigerloch area.”

Dirk and Sig exchanged glances.

“What's he like?” Dirk asked.

“Cunning. Hard. Totally ruthless. He has the no doubt well-earned reputation for missing nothing. Visual or verbal.” Again the man's mouth contorted into his disquieting, downward smile. “Harbicht is that epitome of efficiency — a morally lobotomized professional Gestapo officer.”

“Where exactly is the pile itself located?”

“In the bowels of the mountain. Blasted into a cliff. An old complex of wine caves long ago hewn out of the rock has been enlarged and adapted to hold the pile.”

“Accessibility?”

Himmelmann looked straight at Dirk. “Accessibility? For you?” The corners of his mouth drew down. “Non-existent!”

Dirk returned the German's intense gaze. “Herr Professor,” he said. “One final question. Why are you helping us?”

For a moment Himmelmann stared at him. Then he lowered his head.

“Because — I am a coward,” he said, bitterness grating in his voice. “I abhor the use to which my work is destined. I detest the life I lead. Yet — I am reluctant to give it up. I have not the courage to take action myself.” He looked straight at Dirk. “I know the evil of Adolf Hitler and his National Socialists. They cannot be permitted to control this ultimate source of power and destruction…. You? You are — unknown. So, I will help you destroy the known. You can be no worse.”

Dirk turned to Sig.

“Sig?”

Sig was scowling at his beer. He looked up.

“Herr Professor,” he said, “you say that the Haigerloch Project is indeed concerned with atomic research. With an atomic bomb…. How can we be sure? How can you prove to us that this is so?”

Himmelmann glared at him. Then the crooked smile appeared.

“You are a scientist, I perceive, not merely a — saboteur.” He filled the word with abysmal contempt. “You must be shown before you believe.” He shrugged. “Very well. We will show you — Oskar and I.”