Echo of the Reich

4

20 July 2012

The first car arrived early in the afternoon and parked inside the large underground garage that formed part of the basement of the house. Within twenty minutes, two other cars had parked beside it, and three more were standing on the graveled driveway outside the double garage doors.

The last car to arrive, a black BMW, drove quickly along the ruler-straight Rothen Road to the north of Spreenhagen, a large village to the southeast of Berlin, then slowed and made the right turn off the road, bordered on both sides by thick woodland, and down the driveway leading to the house. The driver was the sole occupant of the car, and he was a few minutes late because he’d been held up by a minor traffic accident en route.

He parked the car, nodded to the two men who were standing by the double doors, and strode quickly into the garage. As soon as he’d done so, one of the men pressed a remote control and the doors closed behind him with a metallic clatter.

Inside the property, the man walked briskly, tracing a familiar route. At the end of the corridor leading from the garage was a flight of stairs he took two at a time; then he walked down a corridor to a large formal dining room. But there was neither food nor cutlery on the long polished walnut table, around which half a dozen men in dark suits were seated.

Apart from the absence of laptops, briefcases and writing pads, it could have been a typical board meeting. It had been their rule from the first that no writing or recording materials of any sort were allowed in the room, and the room itself was swept for bugs at least once a day.

The new arrival muttered his apologies, then took the last remaining seat.

“Let us begin,” said the man at the head of the table.

He was just over fifty years old, slimly built, with fair hair, a pale complexion and light blue eyes. Apart from his height-he was well under six feet tall-he could have been cast from the classic Aryan mold, and he was clearly the dominant personality in the room. That was immediately obvious from the way the other men looked at him and had refrained even from chatting among themselves whilst they’d waited for the last member of the group to make his appearance.

“Not all of you will be aware of the progress we have made and how close we are to achieving our goal,” the man went on, his voice surprisingly deep and resonant, his German formal and grammatically correct. “ Die Neue Dammerung is on track and on time as I speak, though we do have one problem that I will address at the end of our meeting. First, and to ensure that you are all thoroughly familiar with all aspects of our operation, I would like Klaus to outline what we have achieved so far.”

The man sitting on his right, a solid-looking, dark-haired individual with craggy features, nodded and sat up straighter in his seat. He had acted as second-in-command to Marcus for the last twenty years, and was just as dedicated to ensuring the success of the operation.

“Thank you, Marcus,” he began. “I will start with a bit of history. Most of you are aware of the events that took place in Poland at the end of the last war. You will know that the SS Evacuation Kommando-which was, of course, under the command of Marcus’s grandfather-successfully retrieved the device upon which so many of the hopes and dreams of the Third Reich rested. You may also have heard that it was successfully transported to Bodo in Norway and then flown on to South America to ensure that none of the enemies of the Fatherland could take possession of it. The few scientists deemed essential to the project traveled with the device, and all other people with any significant knowledge of what we were trying to achieve were eliminated.”

Klaus Drescher looked swiftly around the table. Several heads nodded knowingly. “At that time, the regime in Argentina was sympathetic to our cause, and work was able to continue on the device without hindrance. Great strides were made both in increasing the effectiveness of Die Glocke and in the process of miniaturization, though there remained a number of significant technological hurdles to be overcome. In fact, it took over half a century before a new generation of our scientists was able to create a fully functioning and reasonably portable version of the device. That triumph was finally achieved only five years ago, and we now have six weapons concealed in secure locations here in Germany.”

He paused for a moment, and then smiled slightly.

“In fact,” he went on, “that’s not strictly true. We actually only have five weapons in storage, because the sixth one is about to be deployed, and where we position the other five devices will largely depend upon what happens after this first, live test. If we have to take further action, most of the targets are fairly obvious: Paris, Madrid and Rome, certainly, and probably Brussels as well, and that will still leave us with one weapon in reserve. And as you all know, because of our recent activities, the first weapon of our arsenal will be triggered in London. The Olympic Games is simply too good an opportunity to miss.”

A heavily built man on the opposite side of the table shook his head. “You know there will be reprisals. If the British discover that we were responsible, military action against Germany is possible, perhaps even probable. And the United Nations and America might also become involved.”

Drescher shook his head, the smile still in evidence.

“We have taken steps to ensure that that will not happen. The vehicle to be used for the transportation of the device will have no connection to Germany whatsoever, and we are also employing measures to suggest that the real culprit, the author of the atrocity, is a much older and far more dangerous enemy than Germany.”

He smiled more broadly as he looked around at the other men.

“It is just possible that our action could rid the world of a contagion that has existed since the beginning of recorded history.” He paused again, and then continued. “Because, gentlemen, we are going to make it clear that the perpetrators of this attack have made their home a long way to the east, on stolen ground. We are going to blame it on the Jews.”

There was a brief silence, and then another of the men spoke: “How?”

“The details are not important, but rest assured we can achieve it. Once the attack is over, we will make absolutely certain that the Jews are identified as the perpetrators. The international backlash against the Zionist state should be enough to finish the task that the Fuhrer started.”

“And what about the effectiveness of the London weapon? What degree of lethality are you anticipating?”

Drescher shrugged his shoulders.

“That is very difficult to predict because we do not know how many people will be within the lethal radius when the device is triggered. But the weapon will be activated during the opening ceremony, so we anticipate that at the very least there will be thousands of casualties, possibly tens of thousands, in addition to the long-term effects caused by radiation damage-effects that are, of course, impossible to predict.”

Klaus glanced back at Marcus, who nodded.

“Thank you, Klaus.” Marcus now turned to the man seated on his left. “Hermann, can you bring us up-to-date with the situation regarding the vehicle?”

“Of course. Our people have already identified a suitable organization that will be sending a team to cover the Olympics, and we have our own vehicle prepared. We have agents watching the company, and as soon as they are ready to dispatch their lorry, we will move into position. We do not anticipate any difficulty with the substitution.”

Marcus nodded again.

“I have personally overseen the testing of the weapon,” he said, “up to a very low power setting, of course, and it worked exactly as we hoped.”

“Did you use test subjects?”

“That was the only way we could confirm its effectiveness. We picked up a handful of vagrants and used them. The results were entirely satisfactory.”

“Unfortunately,” Klaus Drescher interjected, “there were no Jews available.”

All the men smiled at that remark, and a couple of them laughed.

The meeting continued for another half an hour as various members of the group reported on their particular aspects of the operation, and then Marcus moved on to the other matter that he felt they needed to know about.

“And now,” he said, “we have a small problem that I am in the process of resolving. One of our recruits was discovered attempting to pass information to the police here. Fortunately, he was detected and stopped, but it is clear that we need to know if he was acting alone. My men will start their questioning in the cellar in a few minutes, so we have just got time for a drink beforehand.”

Five minutes later, Marcus led the way into a subterranean whitewashed room. Four men armed with pistols stood just inside the doorway, their attention focused on a man whose arms and legs were lashed to a stout wooden chair, the legs of which were bolted to the concrete floor. He was blindfolded and gagged, and was tugging frantically at his bonds, but to no avail. The leather straps were pulled tight, and held him immobile.

Two rows of seats had been placed along one wall of the room and, with the exception of Marcus, the new arrivals walked over to them and sat down. Most were still carrying small glasses of schnapps, and a couple of them had coffee as well.

Marcus gestured to one of the armed men, who moved across and stood beside the wooden chair, awaiting further orders. When he was satisfied that everything was ready, Marcus nodded his first command.

Without hesitation, the man leaned down, seized the little finger of the captive’s left hand and in one swift and brutal movement bent it backward. The snapping of the bone was audible to everybody in the room, and was immediately followed by a muffled but agonized howl of pain.

“That is just the start, my friend,” Marcus said, “just a taster to show you that we are serious. You will tell us whatever we want to know. Every time we think that you are lying or not telling us the whole truth, I will instruct my associate to break another of your fingers. When we run out of fingers, we will begin amputating your toes. It can take you days to die.”

Marcus glanced at the seated men along the wall. Every one of them appeared eager for the show to begin, their eyes fixed on the bound man.

“So now we’ll start,” Marcus said. “Take off the gag.”

The moment the gag was removed, the captive screamed his agony, then began sobbing, his desperation obvious to every man in the room.

And then the questions started.