V2 A Novel of World War II - Robert Harris Page 0,85

the pale, emaciated figures that were hurrying everywhere – always hurrying, never moving at a normal pace. And amid it all, the immaculate figure of Kammler, attended by his black-capped officers, striding along the middle of the newly completed Tunnel A, pointing out this or that achievement. In a month and a half, it had to be granted, he had worked a dark miracle. The lineaments of a giant production line were already beginning to appear: cranes, workshops, assembly areas, test stands, repair shops. He conducted the engineers right the way through the mountain and out the other side into the clear autumn afternoon light.

‘Well, gentlemen, what do you think?’

Graf lit a cigarette.

Arthur Rudolph, the only one of them who had been a Nazi right from the start – even from before Hitler came to power – said immediately, ‘It’s fantastic.’

Klaus Riedel, the liberal utopian who had learned to keep his political opinions to himself, stared at the ground and muttered something about being overwhelmed.

Von Braun said, ‘I wouldn’t have believed it possible.’

‘Dr Graf?’ Kammler looked at him expectantly.

‘I’m speechless.’

‘I shall take that as a compliment! Now, let us go to my office in Nordhausen and have some refreshments, and we can discuss the production plans in more detail.’

As they walked towards the waiting cars, Graf fell into step beside von Braun. ‘I should go back to Peenemünde. I’ll be of more use there.’

‘No. We have come a long way to reach this point. None of us is turning back now.’

He strode ahead. Graf stopped and looked back at the mouth of the tunnel, then up at the sky. He felt himself to be like one of the rockets – a human machine, launched on a fixed trajectory, impossible to recall, hurtling to a point that was preordained. He finished his cigarette and flicked it away, and walked on to join the others.

The night was clear. There was no traffic. Low above the black mass of trees, seemingly far out over the North Sea, a bright crescent moon lit the road ahead. Now that he was out of Scheveningen, Graf put his foot down. The moon seemed to keep pace with him. Frau im Mond. They had kept the movie company’s cheerfully erotic symbol painted on the fuselage of the rockets all the way through the tests at Peenemünde. Only when the missiles went into mass production did such whimsy become impossible.

He reached the outskirts of Wassenaar and slowed down, looking out for the turning. He spotted it, braked and swung left. He was stopped at once by the barrier. The inevitable SS guards emerged from their hut.

He showed his identity card and pass. ‘I need to get through to the launch site.’

‘No one is allowed beyond this point.’

‘This is an emergency.’

One of the SS men laughed. ‘I’m sure it is! If you’re trying to get to the brothel, forget it.’

The other said, more sympathetically, ‘Leave it, Doctor. There’s nothing you can do.’

From somewhere in the woods came a long burst of machine-gun fire – fifteen or twenty seconds. The SS men turned to look. For half a minute there was silence. Then came another, shorter burst, followed by half a dozen single shots.

Graf rested his forehead on the rim of the steering wheel. The guards went back to their hut. He stayed like that for a while, feeling the ticking-over of the engine vibrating through his skull, before wearily reversing onto the main road and returning the way he had come.

16

KAY WOKE, TURNED OFF THE alarm, rolled over and glanced at the other side of the bed. It was too dark to make out whether he was still there. She reached under the blanket and put out an exploring hand. The mattress was cold. He must have left a while ago. She couldn’t remember him going.

She slipped naked from beneath the covers and felt her way along the wall to the light switch. The room was in a mess that told its own story. Her shoes, coat and jacket were in a heap next to the door; her shirt and skirt at the foot of the bed; her underwear and stockings strewn across the bedspread along with her tie, which he had struggled to unknot and which had been the last thing to go. She went around gathering it all up. In the bathroom she dashed her face and neck with freezing water and considered herself in the mirror.

He had been tender, passionate, anxious. Once, when she made a