Doctor Who_ Just War - Lance Parkin [11]
‘The German avionics expert,’ Kendrick offered.
They both shook their heads.
‘Used to be a racing driver, built his own cars?’
Chris apologized, but still didn’t recognize the name.
‘I’m surprised. Perhaps he’s a bit before your time. We’re expecting a lot from Hartung in the future, though. He’s an expert in all sorts of fields: aerodynamics, physics, rocketry, mathematics, metallurgy, even radio waves. A genius. They usually keep him very safe. Rechlin, is it, George?’
Reed looked up from the folder he had been flicking through. ‘That’s right, sir, on the Mueritzsee, north of Berlin.
He has his own team of boffins there. He’s been there since November 1936 and the Luftwaffe give him anything he wants — men, materials, money. We’re not even sure what he’s working on these days. This is the first time he’s left Rechlin since Christmas ‘39.’
‘He could be taking part in the landing trials,’ Forrester suggested. Kendrick didn’t acknowledge her.
‘It’s not what I’d expected at all. Even with the number of paratroopers they have, the Germans couldn’t possibly launch an aerial assault on the British mainland, it would have to be naval. Besides, there hasn’t been anything like the build-up of planes they would need. George, show Lieutenant Cwej and Captain Forrester to the File Room. See what you can come up with. Hartung may be a red herring, but it can’t hurt to check. You know what it might mean if it isn’t.’
Chris watched George’s reaction. The two men were keeping something from them. Hardly surprising; he and Roz had only been in the job for a week so he didn’t really expect to be privy to the deepest secrets of British Intelligence straight away. Still, it was something to keep in mind. A glance at Roz confirmed that she was thinking the same thing.
The File Room was in the sub-basement, far below the reach of any bomb. Reed knew that it was the first time that either Cwej or Forrester had been down there. He hoped they wouldn’t be disappointed. Bare bulbs cast pools of harsh light across the large room. Row upon row of metal shelving strained under the weight of piles and piles of identical buff folders. Every so often the pattern was broken by a small box of index cards. A handful of men and women, some in uniform, some in neat dark blue suits, stood at strategic points, rummaging through boxes, sorting through reams of paper. The air smelled musty, and a thin layer of dust coated every surface. George effortlessly navigated his way through this colourless world. To the untrained eye, this might not have seemed like much, but this was one of the most important rooms in the world: a repository of knowledge about the enemy. Information from this room had saved thousands of lives, and it might yet turn the course of the war.
‘How are things filed?’ asked Cwej. Reed grinned; the Canadian lad seemed genuinely keen to learn.
‘At the end of the day, someone brings the box down with all the papers in. Hopefully, it’s in some kind of order.
Analysis, reports written by someone here, aerial Photographs, that kind of thing, is in the grey files, information from the field is in the buff ones. It’s not quite as crazy as it sounds. Normally Kendrick would fill in a docket for you, and one of the office girls would get the file you wanted, but they don’t start until nine-thirty.’
‘What a wild and wacky world you lead,’ he heard Forrester mutter. Reed glanced over to her. The African woman was staring into space, arms crossed. Forrester was an odd one, he thought. She was unlike any woman he had ever known, and was certainly very different from the few other negro women he had encountered. She was jolly civilized, and knew so much, but she seemed so distant. Roz was an African who knew as much physics as their own boffins. But it wasn’t just that: Reed recognized something in her unique to those who had seen active service. Cwej was strong and well trained, but Reed