Vengeance 10

Memling found his new working arrangements very curious. In 1939 Dr R. V. Jones had been co-opted from Clarendon Laboratory on the recommendation of Sir Henry Tizard who then headed the Committee for the Scientific Survey of Air Defence (Great Britain). He had been assigned to keep track of German weapons research but had been granted neither staff nor secretary. Until Simon-Benet ferreted him out in the mysterious and trackless wastes of Whitehall, Jones had plugged along from year to year doing an amazing amount of work to which no one paid the slightest attention. The two men had come to an arrangement: Jones would supply the scientific expertise to evaluate new discoveries, and Simon-Benet would provide the data and, whenever possible, on-site investigation through his extensive connections with the miscellany of intelligence services that infested London.

Several times Dr Jones had tried to move them out of the decrepit building in Red Lion Square, but each time the ministry had turned him down. The walls were bowed with age, the gaps between the floorboards were large enough to hide cockroaches — and did — and the windows opened grudgingly, if at all. The building’s only advantage lay in the fact that it was no more than a brisk walk from Janet’s flat in Montague Street.

Memling also discovered that Simon-Benet had a powerful enemy in Professor Frederick A. Lindemann, Viscount Cherwell, the Prime Minister’s scientific adviser. Viscount Cherwell maintained that Germany lacked the resources to undertake such a massive rocket project as well as to develop and supply the vast volumes of fuel that would be needed. In the first two meetings he attended at which Viscount Cherwell was present, Memling had argued that if Germany was capable of producing synthetic petrol she could certainly produce one of three possible rocket fuels — ethyl alcohol, petrol, or hydrazine — in sufficient quantity. Cherwell disagreed.

Simon-Benet then arranged for Memling to present a paper describing the selection of ethyl alcohol as the likeliest fuel. Memling prepared his notes carefully, fully conscious of the fact that Viscount Cherwell was supremely confident of his own abilities and opinions and would likely dismiss him as an uneducated upstart. It was work he had never liked, and a long succession of beautiful summer afternoons slipped past while he struggled to assemble the required facts in the reading room of the British Museum or in his dingy office. But in the long twilight evenings there was Janet to make it all worthwhile.

The designated day arrived, and Memling, conscious that he was an interloper, presented his data to a silent and, as he expected, resentful committee. Anxious to be finished, he summarised the paper quickly: ‘The characteristics desired in a rocket fuel are: one, availability of raw materials; two, high combustion heat for the greatest combustion chamber pressure; three, low molecular weight of the resulting gas; four, low freezing point for the greatest temperature range of operation; five, high specific gravity; six, low toxicity and corrosiveness to avoid the need for equipment and clothing; and seven, low vapour pressures for long storage life.

‘Given this set of conditions, gentlemen, ethyl alcohol appears the logical answer. The farmlands of East Prussia and Poland are particularly well suited for the cultivation of potatoes, which are easily converted to ethyl alcohol, making an easily renewable resource. Calculations based upon thrust-to-fuel consumption curves, coupled with an analysis of the number of rockets required to make a significant impact upon the course of the war — some twelve hundred per month — require fifty-seven hundred and sixty to sixty-six hundred tons of ethyl alcohol monthly. Ethyl alcohol is also easier and cheaper to produce than petrol or hydrazine, and it possesses the requisite low toxicity and high stability to make it a natural choice. It does have one undesirable characteristic,’ he added, trying desperately to inject some humour into the inquisition; ‘it is drinkable.’ It did not work.

Viscount Cherwell, acting as chairman, thanked him for his presentation, remarked upon its preciseness, disparaged his conclusions with personal opinion, and dismissed him. Simon-Benet nodded as he stood, and as Memling shut the door he heard the brigadier’s voice rising to levels it had probably never reached before.

Memling, who had been up against just such entrenched opinion since the beginning, doubted it would do much good. But the brigadier, returning from the meeting several hours later, was in an excellent mood. He clapped Memling on the shoulder, sank down in the old armchair used for infrequent visitors, and propped his feet on the desk that had been well scarred before the Boer War.

‘Think we made some progress today, damned if I don’t!’

Memling, still sulking, grunted.