monsters you believe, we’ll even provide civilian shoes.”
“So you really think you can recreate whatever hocus-pocus old Blomberg pulled off? How long will it take?”
“Respectively my replies are ‘Perhaps’ and ‘I don’t know.’ Dr. von Blomberg was a genius. He had much more formal education than I, and he possessed uncanny intuition regarding multiple fields of science, some of which don’t yet have names. We have no guarantee that I, or anyone else, can duplicate his results. I, however, am the only scientist who read any portion of his records before they were destroyed. How much time will it take? That’s anyone’s guess. Months? Years? Never? Who knows?”
“And you’re going to tackle this all by your lonesome self?”
Kossler strolled to a mantel clock sitting on a shelf behind one of the two desks. He picked up a key and began winding it. “No, not alone. I’ve requested an assistant to help me.”
“Say, make it a female assistant. Somebody who looks like Rita Hayworth. Or maybe Betty Grable. Sure would be nice to have a face prettier than yours to admire.”
Kossler laughed lightly and swung shut the glass plate of the clock. “You Americans. The fountain of your humor never runs dry. Unfortunately for your fantasies, the chosen assistant is male. Werner Neumann is his name. They tell me he is bright and insightful. Equally important, he is fully dedicated to the party.”
Roger reached for his jacket, unsnapped one of the front pockets, and retrieved his green aviator sunglasses. “Another heel-clicking Hitler fanatic? I can hardly stand the suspense.”
Kossler’s face clouded. “A little humor can be admirable, Captain. Misguided jesting becomes insolence. I warn you, although we want you alive, I can still punish impertinence.”
“Yeah? Well, mairzy doats and dozy doats.”
Kossler’s eyebrows lowered. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Maybe I expressed my opinion in secret code, developed by the U.S. Army Signal Corps to protect top-secret information. Don’t expect me to translate.” He held up the sunglasses, then straightened a bend in one of the temples.
Kossler sniffed. “You may keep your precious code. I guarantee your U.S. Army won’t receive any messages from this bunker.”
Through the bars, Roger observed Kossler’s crossed arms with satisfaction. His words had struck the target of opportunity. “Thanks for the warning, Doc. Now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll get a little shuteye. You know how moving to a new prison cell always wears me out.” He slipped on the sunglasses and settled into the armchair, which felt cozier than he wanted to admit. Would Kossler feel indignant that it was he, the prisoner, rather than himself, who had signaled the end of their conversation? Who cared? Let the mad scientist feel snubbed. For now, fatigue was tugging Roger’s brain toward dreamland.
C HAPTER 15
W EDNESDAY , O CTOBER 11, 1944
T HE K OSSLER ESTATE , G ERMANY
S tanding in the salon of his home, Dr. Otto Kossler stared into the ice-blue eyes of SS Colonel Heinrich Wolf. Kossler struggled to absorb the information the colonel had just told him.
“Surely you cannot be serious? The government—”
“Dr. Kossler, I’m not a man endowed with an overly active sense of humor.” Judging from Wolf’s inhumanly frigid gaze, the colonel was also not a man blessed with a soul, if such a thing existed. “The Third Reich’s future can now be numbered in months, if not weeks. Germany is dying, shriveling on the vine, and the military can do little to prevent it. You would have foreseen the same truth had you not been so preoccupied with your test tubes and microscopes.”
“But the news reports. What about the secret weapons being developed? The Führer has promised—”
“Propaganda for the masses. Those weapons are too little, too late. Even if we had more time for research and development—which we don’t—the Allies have obliterated most
“So you really think you can recreate whatever hocus-pocus old Blomberg pulled off? How long will it take?”
“Respectively my replies are ‘Perhaps’ and ‘I don’t know.’ Dr. von Blomberg was a genius. He had much more formal education than I, and he possessed uncanny intuition regarding multiple fields of science, some of which don’t yet have names. We have no guarantee that I, or anyone else, can duplicate his results. I, however, am the only scientist who read any portion of his records before they were destroyed. How much time will it take? That’s anyone’s guess. Months? Years? Never? Who knows?”
“And you’re going to tackle this all by your lonesome self?”
Kossler strolled to a mantel clock sitting on a shelf behind one of the two desks. He picked up a key and began winding it. “No, not alone. I’ve requested an assistant to help me.”
“Say, make it a female assistant. Somebody who looks like Rita Hayworth. Or maybe Betty Grable. Sure would be nice to have a face prettier than yours to admire.”
Kossler laughed lightly and swung shut the glass plate of the clock. “You Americans. The fountain of your humor never runs dry. Unfortunately for your fantasies, the chosen assistant is male. Werner Neumann is his name. They tell me he is bright and insightful. Equally important, he is fully dedicated to the party.”
Roger reached for his jacket, unsnapped one of the front pockets, and retrieved his green aviator sunglasses. “Another heel-clicking Hitler fanatic? I can hardly stand the suspense.”
Kossler’s face clouded. “A little humor can be admirable, Captain. Misguided jesting becomes insolence. I warn you, although we want you alive, I can still punish impertinence.”
“Yeah? Well, mairzy doats and dozy doats.”
Kossler’s eyebrows lowered. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Maybe I expressed my opinion in secret code, developed by the U.S. Army Signal Corps to protect top-secret information. Don’t expect me to translate.” He held up the sunglasses, then straightened a bend in one of the temples.
Kossler sniffed. “You may keep your precious code. I guarantee your U.S. Army won’t receive any messages from this bunker.”
Through the bars, Roger observed Kossler’s crossed arms with satisfaction. His words had struck the target of opportunity. “Thanks for the warning, Doc. Now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll get a little shuteye. You know how moving to a new prison cell always wears me out.” He slipped on the sunglasses and settled into the armchair, which felt cozier than he wanted to admit. Would Kossler feel indignant that it was he, the prisoner, rather than himself, who had signaled the end of their conversation? Who cared? Let the mad scientist feel snubbed. For now, fatigue was tugging Roger’s brain toward dreamland.
C HAPTER 15
W EDNESDAY , O CTOBER 11, 1944
T HE K OSSLER ESTATE , G ERMANY
S tanding in the salon of his home, Dr. Otto Kossler stared into the ice-blue eyes of SS Colonel Heinrich Wolf. Kossler struggled to absorb the information the colonel had just told him.
“Surely you cannot be serious? The government—”
“Dr. Kossler, I’m not a man endowed with an overly active sense of humor.” Judging from Wolf’s inhumanly frigid gaze, the colonel was also not a man blessed with a soul, if such a thing existed. “The Third Reich’s future can now be numbered in months, if not weeks. Germany is dying, shriveling on the vine, and the military can do little to prevent it. You would have foreseen the same truth had you not been so preoccupied with your test tubes and microscopes.”
“But the news reports. What about the secret weapons being developed? The Führer has promised—”
“Propaganda for the masses. Those weapons are too little, too late. Even if we had more time for research and development—which we don’t—the Allies have obliterated most
Similar Books
