Читаем Vengeance 10 полностью

‘Do not make the mistake of thinking you are indispensable to Himmler, Franz. No one is.’ She lowered her voice and leaned towards him. ‘There is strong evidence that Himmler may have conspired with British intelligence in the murder of Reinhard Heydrich. At the very least, it is almost certain that he knew of the attempt and did nothing to stop it. If he could throw Heydrich away, he would not think twice about disposing of you.’

Bethwig realised then that she was speaking the truth; it was something he had suspected for a long time. Even Ullman had hinted that Himmler was responsible for Heydrich’s murder. And he was dead now himself. He decided then to tell Hanna about Inge; at least Hanna, as a personal friend of Hitler’s and Goering’s as well as a public hero, would be immune to Himmler’s manipulations. And if he were murdered by Himmler, there would be someone else who knew about her. Hanna might even be able to help him find her….

He plucked the packet from his pocket and took another cigarette. Hanna noticed that his hands were shaking as he fumbled with his lighter. ‘There is a girl,’ he began abruptly. ‘I have never told anyone about her before. I met her in Prague. She… she was an SS hostess.’ He darted a quick glance at Hanna, but her expression did not change even though he realised she knew what the term implied. Everyone did. ‘Heydrich found out and used her to keep me in line.’

He went on to tell her about the girl, how Heydrich had ordered her beaten to show him that he could not disobey an order, how an SS officer on Heydrich’s staff had managed to get her out of the castle in the confusion surrounding Heydrich’s assassination, and finally how she had been incarcerated in a mental hospital. ‘Himmler probably found out about her shortly after Wernher and I offered to continue the A-Ten project under his direction. When I refused to support his idiotic charges against von Braun, he had her taken away. Since then, I know only what Himmler allows me to know about her. Even Ullman is dead now, killed on the eastern front. Himmler is using Inge to force me to accept the position of A-Ten project director so that he can fire Wernher. I suppose he thinks I will be more amenable to his stupid whims.’

Hanna took a deep breath. As far-fetched as Franz’s story sounded, it was not beyond the realm of possibility; anything was possible today. The question was, would it do any good to tell General Dornberger?

Bethwig was staring at the silvered beaches half a kilometre away. The Baltic was calm, and he could see a patrol boat idling along the coast. He thought of his sailboat, unused since the previous summer.

Air-raid sirens sprang to life, destroying the stillness. In the distance, between wavering notes, they could hear the dull, nearly inaudible drone of heavy bombers.

‘The RAF again,’ Hanna murmured. ‘Forming up south of Rugen for another run on Berlin. God help them there,’ she added.

Lights were going off all across the island. The drone of approaching aircraft was louder now. Flashes appeared to the north where the Luftwaffe anti-aircraft defences had opened up on the approaching bomber stream; something they were forbidden to do… unless the Centre were under attack. The crash of the exploding bombs rumbled towards them, and the sky above the trees began to glow red.

‘My God,’ Bethwig exclaimed in amazement, ‘they’re after the Centre.’

Peenemunde had never been bombed before, and it took him a few moments to absorb the idea; then he grabbed Hanna’s arm and ran back into the dining-room and across the floor to join the last of the crowd jostling through the doors. They raced down the stairs and out across the square to where air-raid wardens were waving blue lights and urging people into shelters. The explosions were continuous now, and pillars of flame and debris could be seen as the aeroplanes laid a carpet of bombs across the island.

Inside the shelter Bethwig found a spot against the wall and dragged Hanna down beside him, but she pulled him away. ‘Not against the wall. The concussion of a near miss will kill…’

Her voice disappeared in the devastating roar of bursting bombs. People screamed and struggled, and a blast of furnace-hot air whipped inside as the door splintered. Dust exploded, choking them into fits of lung-tearing coughing and the temperature shot to unbearable levels. The floor shuddered and more dust was shaken loose as the walls vibrated. The red emergency lamp burst, and Bethwig’s head felt as if it might implode as the concussion squeezed. His lips were covered with something hot and sticky, and he experienced the nightmare sensation of quaking earth and vibrating air.