V2 A Novel of World War II - Robert Harris Page 0,93

sodium permanganate, which reacted with the hydrogen peroxide to produce the steam to power the turbine, was removed from its heated container and tipped into an opening in the tail unit. The compartments were closed. The tankers withdrew. The arm of the Meillerwagen was lowered. The igniter was fitted. Finally the surveyors moved in to turn the rocket on the launch table so that the number one fin was precisely aligned on a bearing of 183 degrees.

Graf pulled his back away from the tree and made his way over to the firing control vehicle as the klaxon sounded. He pulled the heavy door of the armoured car shut behind him. Seidel was peering out of the hatch in the roof. He closed it and slid down into his seat. In his hand he held a stopwatch. ‘Twenty-three seconds, right?’

‘That’s it.’

He picked up a telephone. The radar station in The Hague announced that they were clear to launch. He nodded to the sergeant. ‘Begin the procedure.’

Graf braced himself as the countdown started. Through the thickened glass he saw the familiar spectacle – the shower of sparks, the spreading flame, the sudden rush of noise and heat as the rocket reached full power. Seidel pressed the stopwatch the instant the missile erupted out of sight.

He spoke into the telephone. ‘Stand by to cut off engines. Twenty seconds … fifteen seconds …’

18

IN MECHELEN, A TELEPHONE RANG. It made them jump. In the confined silence of the bank vault the clang was as loud as a fire alarm.

Kay looked up hopefully. Waiting for something to happen had started to prey on her nerves. A dozen pairs of eyes went straight to the Signals Corps corporal as he lifted the receiver.

He listened, raised his hand. ‘They’ve launched!’

The bell sounded briefly. Kay picked up her pencil.

The corporal began his incantation: ‘Contact bearing one eight three; altitude thirty-one thousand; velocity three two two zero feet per second …’

‘Hang on,’ muttered Knowsley. He looked at the corporal, puzzled. ‘One eight three? That can’t be right.’ He grabbed a protractor, propelled himself out of his seat and strode over to the map.

Kay kept her head down, writing.

‘Contact bearing one eight three,’ said the corporal, ‘altitude forty-seven thousand, velocity—’

Knowsley interrupted him. ‘Request confirmation of the bearing.’

‘Can you confirm that bearing, please?’ The corporal waited. ‘Bearing confirmed.’ He listened to the voice on the other end. Now he too looked bewildered. ‘The missile’s rising but they aren’t picking up a track, sir.’

‘No, that’s because it’s coming straight at us.’ The wing commander’s voice was calm. ‘Sound the air raid warning. Everyone take cover.’

The V2, its engine cut off by radio signal, flashed over Rotterdam in free flight at twice the speed of sound.

All around the room everyone was ducking to find shelter, apart from Kay. She could not believe this was happening to her again.

Barbara said, ‘Kay – get under the table!’ She had to shout again to get her attention. ‘Kay!’

Kay got down on her knees and crawled into the cramped space. The howl of the air raid siren carried from the street outside. Barbara said, ‘Well, this is thrilling.’ They lay on their stomachs, side by side. Kay turned her head to look at Barbara. Beneath her cheek the parquet floor smelled sickly sweet of beeswax polish. Barbara gave her an encouraging smile, took her hand and squeezed it. Kay placed her other hand over the crown of her head to protect it – as if that would do much good, she thought. She closed her eyes. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death …

The air raid siren stopped.

Time seemed to stretch and tauten, to elongate further and further: unbearably far.

Suddenly, a change in the air pressure – the same minute click in the ears, like the whisper of a premonition, that she had experienced in London – followed a beat later by a tremendous bang overhead. Then came the thump of a distant explosion, subsumed in its turn by the avalanche roar of the incoming rocket.

Kay lay still in the ensuing silence. I have heard that three-part sequence twice, she thought. Not many among the living can say that.

After half a minute, Barbara whispered, ‘Is that it?’

‘I think so.’ She felt a surge of claustrophobia and used her elbows to wriggle out from under the table. The others were emerging from beneath their desks. She stood and brushed the dust from her skirt and tunic. The all-clear wailed