The Haigerloch Project

“Yes, sir.” Reed turned to Rosenfeld. “It is a plan of operation designed to take the Hechingen-Haigerloch area — if necessary. Colonel Pash, who has commanded Alsos from the beginning, will be in charge. It will be an airborne operation. The Thirteenth AB Division will be dropped to secure the area. Alsos scientists will be brought in by plane under heavy air escort. Pash himself will be dropped with a paratroop battalion to seize the actual target… as soon as we know what it is. A number of C-46's will be used to evacuate the Alsos personnel and any captured German scientists — and whatever equipment and matériel may be deemed important.”

“Trouble is,” McKinley added. “We don't know what he'll run into. We could be landing in a hornets' nest — or dropping a juicy orange in Aladdin's turban!”

Rosenfeld nodded. “I can see that,” he said. “Unless we know with absolute certainty that the operation is worth it, the risks might well be too great…”

McKinley sighed. “Any chance at all that your Gemini boys might still come through with some concrete information?”

Rosenfeld shook his head slowly. “I strongly doubt it, sir. We must write them off….”

“That leaves only Pash….”

McKinley fell silent.

The telephone on the desk broke into the heavy silence. McKinley picked up the receiver.

“Yes, Barnes,” he said.

He listened, his face drawn.

“Tell them I'm on my way,” he said. He replaced the receiver. He looked at Reed. “That was General Groves' office,” he said. “It does not look good for Operation Effective. It seems the strike against the Hechingen-Haigerloch Project will be called off.” He stood up. “You will excuse me, gentlemen. I am wanted in the office of the Chief of Staff.”

He started for the door, hesitated and turned to the two officers watching him solemnly. “An Army Group Task Force may be formed,” he said quietly. “A major effort. To seize the Hechingen-Haigerloch area in strength.”

Reed looked at him. “Major effort,” he said with concern. “That means — time! Sir, it may be too late. When—”

“Last week in April,” McKinley interrupted him. “No sooner.”

He turned and quickly walked from the room.

Reed looked at Rosenfeld. “Three weeks,” he said, his voice flat. “The world was created in only one week. Are we going to see it destroyed in three?”

* * *

The steady clackity whirring of Anna Weber's old sewing machine seeped into the dismal little back room — an incongruous accompaniment to Dirk's anger.

Wanda was gone. She had died at last the day after the disaster at the railroad yard Oskar had buried her in the little garden behind his sister's shop. Her headstone was a row of empty seed packages stuck on twigs and planted in the dark earth. No one would dig up a people's vegetable garden. Had not the Führer himself decreed that they be planted?

Dirk found himself reluctant to breathe deeply. The smell of terror and human decay still lingered in the air.

They were all there. He and Sig. Oskar and Gisela. And Himmelmann. Dirk glared at the scientist angrily.

“Why the hell did you call this meeting?” he asked, antagonism grating in his voice. “You know damn well how dangerous it is for us to run around the streets just now.” He glared at the German.

Himmelmann regarded him, a half-smile of disdain on his lips. “Would you rather have had me come to the Storp house?”

“Oh, shit!” Dirk exploded. “That's a goddamn stupid question and you fucking well know it! The Storp place is the only safe house we have. But roaming the streets of this shitty burg, the asshole of the world, isn't exactly healthy either. Not now. And you know that, too!.. Okay. So you got us here. We'll listen to what you have to say. It had better be good….”

With an air of cool superiority, Himmelmann looked at the angry young American. “If you would listen, young man, instead of indulging in such a masturbatory orgy of words, you might be better equipped to render an opinion,” he said calmly.

“Don't give me any static,” Dirk snapped. “Just spill it.”

Himmelmann shrugged. “Two items,” he said, his voice icy. “We have just received a directive from Wehrkreis VII. That is the Alpenfestung—the Alpine Fortress. All atomic-research capacities from every laboratory in Germany — except Haigeloch; all stock piles of uranium, heavy water, graphite and all materials essential for the production of an atomic explosive device, all equipment and machinery are immediately and on top-priority basis to be evacuated to the National Redoubt in the Alps.”

“Redoubt in the Alps?” Sig was startled. God! They were getting awfully close to home. “What is — the National Redoubt?”