The Valhalla Exchange - Jack Higgins [35]
The entire project was carried out under conditions of total secrecy, but in the Third Reich nothing was secret from Martin Bormann for long. On making the happy discovery and needing a discreet establishment for purposes of his own, he had announced his intention of moving in, and Eichmann, too terrified to argue, agreed, putting up with the inconvenience of the arrangement until March when he'd decided to make a run for it.
When Bormann and Rattenhuber arrived the place seemed deserted. The front door hung crazily on its hinges, the windows gaped and the roof had been extensively damaged by shelling. Rattenhuber drove along the alley at one side, wheels crunching over broken glass, and pulled into the courtyard at the rear of the building.
For the moment the artillery bombardment had faded and most of the shooting that was taking place was some little way off. Bormann got out and walked down a sloping concrete ramp to a couple of grey-painted, steel doors. He hammered with the toe of his boot. A grille was opened. The man who peered through had SS decals on his steel helmet. Bormann didn't say a word. The grille slammed shut and a moment later the doors opened electronically.
Rattenhuber drove down the ramp, pausing for Bormann to get back in, and they entered a dark tunnel, passing two SS guards, and finally came to a halt in a brightly lit concrete garage.
There were two more SS guards and a young, hard-faced Haupsturmfuhrer. Like his men, he wore a sleeve-band on his left arm that carried the legend 'RFSS'. Reichsfuhrer der SS. The cuff-title of Himmler's personal staff, a device of Bormann's to deter the curious.
'So, Schultz, how goes it?' Bormann asked.
'No problems, Reichsleiter.' Schultz delivered a perfect party salute. 'Are you going up?'
'Yes, I think so.'
Schultz led the way towards a steel elevator and pressed the button. He stood back. 'At your orders, Reichsleiter.'
Bormann and Rattenhuber moved inside, the colonel pressed the button to ascend and the doors closed. He carried his Schmeisser and there was a stick grenade tucked into his belt.
'Not long now, Willi,' Bormann said. 'The culmination of many months of hard work. You were surprised, I think, when I brought you into this affair?'
'No - an honour, Reichsleiter, I assure you,' Rattenhuber said. 'A great honour to be asked to assist with such a task.'
'No more than you deserve, Willi. Zander was not to be trusted. I needed someone of intelligence and discretion. Someone I could trust. This business is of primary importance, Willi, I think you know that. Essential if the Kamaradenwerk is to succeed.'
'You may rely on me, Reichsleiter,' Rattenhuber said emotionally. 'To the death.'
Bormann placed an arm about his shoulders. 'I know I can, Willi. I know I can.' The lift stopped, the door opened. A young man in thickly lensed glasses and a white doctor's coat stood waiting. 'Good evening, Reichsleiter,' he said politely.
'Ah, Scheel, Professor Wiedler is expecting me, I trust.'
'Of course, Reichsleiter. This way.'
The only sound was the hum of the generators as they walked along the carpeted corridor. He opened the door at the end and ushered them through into a working laboratory, furnished mainly with electronic equipment. The man who sat in front of a massive recording machine in headphones was similarly attired, like Scheel, in a white coat. He had an intelligent, anxious face and wore gold-rimmed, half-moon reading spectacles. He glanced round, took off the reading spectacles and got up hastily.
'My dear professor.' Bormann shook hands affably. 'How goes it?'
'Excellent, Reichsleiter. I think I may say, it couldn't have gone any better.'
Fritz Wiedler was a doctor of medicine of the Universities of Heidelberg and Cambridge. A fervent supporter