He waited for the connection, and then listened carefully to the unanswered dialling tone. He was now anxious. It had been over a month since he had last heard from Fleischer. He slammed down the receiver, as Igor re-appeared with the coffee and handed the cup to him. ‘There we are my friend. I have put some of the strong stuff into it as well for you.’
Muller took it and thanked the baker. They then chatted about the rocket tests and Muller’s well-earned upcoming holiday. He had planned to take his wife and son to the Bulgarian resort of Varna on the Black Sea, a popular holiday destination for the Soviet military. He finished his coffee. The baker said his goodbye, however, on this occasion, although fully stocked, Muller did not receive any gifts of bread from his friend. He shrugged, then walking out of the shop, he came to an abrupt halt.
In front of him, two men stood in black raincoats and fur hats. They were in front of a black Zil saloon car, and in unison, both stared threateningly at the German rocket engineer. One of them lit a cigarette, and then formally, he addressed him. ‘Comrade Dieter Muller?’
Muller nodded. ‘Yes, I am Muller.’
The man took another puff on his cigarette. ‘You are to come with us. We have some questions, we would like you to answer.’
The other man opened the back door of the car. ‘Please get into the car, Mr Muller.’ It was more of a demand rather than a request.
Muller stared into the dark interior. Inside, he could make out another figure, hesitantly, he walked over and climbed in. He then saw the third man inside. The man turned to him. ‘Mr Muller, my name is Serinov. You are to accompany us on a plane to Moscow’
The German was suddenly conscious of something amiss. ‘May I ask comrades, why I have to go to Moscow? My work here is important to the Politburo, and my absence will only delay our developments with the N1.’
Serinov turned to him. ‘That has been all taken care of Mr Muller. You are no longer assigned to the N1 project.’
Muller suddenly began to feel agitated, as to why these men wanted him. ‘My wife, she has been informed of my call to Moscow?’
Serinov nodded. ‘Yes, she has, and she has been most co-operative with us. In fact, I have her full report in this briefcase.’
Muller gave the man a puzzled look. ‘Report?’
‘Why, Yes, Mr Muller. Your wife has continued her duty as the surveillance officer, for which she was recruited. And, with full commitment, she will receive an honour. You will not be seeing her, or your young son again.’
Muller swallowed. He had lived this double life, yet he still felt betrayed.
Serinov studied his man carefully, noticing the all-too familiar combined look of guilt and despair. ‘Yes, Mr Muller. You are suspected of being a traitor to the Motherland. There are many questions, we need to ask you, before we decide what we will then do with you. And, of course, your co-operation will be something that may be taken into consideration, if you go to a Court Marshall.’
As the car pulled away from the kerb, the German looked out of the window and through the streaks of rain on the glass, he saw his old friend, staring at him, as he stood in the doorway of the bakery shop. Then, Serinov waved at him. Igor had monitored every call, Muller had made, the transcripts having then been typed by the baker’s unseen wife, then communicated to an office in The Aquarium, the Moscow headquarters of the GRU.
Muller sighed. He realised that all this time, ever since he had got himself deliberately captured in May 1945, to be in the position to carry out his mission, he had been closely watched and then tricked by the very people, he had falsely given his service to. He now feared that the rocket failures for which he had always been present, he would now be held responsible for. Later, as he sat in the cabin of the Antonov AN-2 transport plane, he contemplated his fate. After the questioning, would it be a quick bullet? Or would he spend the rest of his days freezing in the Gulag, and yearning for news of his only child?
For the Kennedy Space Centre, the early hours of the morning, usually meant that few people would be present, and a skeleton shift would man the establishment, until the arrival of the main workforce at 9am. However, it was close to launch day, and men and women were walking about in all directions, like ants disturbed from their nest. Occasionally, the odd siren sounded, and a multitude of messages for various personnel, were called out over the speaker system. Every thirty minutes, the announcer also reminded everyone of the countdown to the launch.
In the computer room, Weisemann’s hands were shaking. Having relieved the other operator for a break, he knew that he had to act fast. He removed the panel at the back of the IBM 360/Model 75 mainframe unit, placing the screws neatly in a row.
As he studied the wiring and the connections, he thought of the lunar module crashing into the Moon, disintegrating into fragments. The new data would upload into the modules on board the Apollo Guidance Computer (AGC), as it sat in its position at the top of the Saturn V. The effects of this, would cause the module to miscalculate distance, and give a false reading to the astronauts, regarding their altitude from the surface. Would the television companies around the world, stop the broadcast to allow the families of the astronauts to grieve in private? He thought to himself. He didn’t really want innocent people to come to harm. He had met all three of the astronauts on numerous occasions, working alongside them, as they assisted with the construction and testing of the space vehicles. The objective was just to destroy the machine, but unfortunately the crew would be part of it; there was nothing he could do. The days of the unmanned missions were over. Having totally memorized the procedure, he took hold of the cables and followed them up to the connectors. At the connector unit, he unplugged them and switching them around, inserted the two crucial plugs back in the alternate sockets. This would now confuse the distance calculator, and although a warning would light up in the module, at the speed of their descent, it would be all too late for the astronauts to do anything about it.
Satisfied with his work, he replaced the panel onto the back of the unit and re-inserted the screws. He looked at his watch and walked towards the command centre complex. Smiling to himself, he would contact Fleischer, to inform him that his work was now done. He placed the screwdriver back into the pocket of his long white work coat and sat back down at the monitoring console.
A few minutes later, the technician returned from his break. ‘Anything happen while I was in the canteen?’
Weisemann still stared at the monitor. ‘Nothing has happened,’ he said casually. He turned his head and smiled. ‘Everything is A-O-K, as you Americans say.’
Launch controller, Jed Gorman shouted across the control centre floor. ‘Where’s Peter Weisemann?’
Lars Brauer stood up. ‘I saw him about an hour ago in the canteen.’
‘Then, please could you go and find him, as I would like to speak with him,’ Gorman bellowed. ‘That English guy who called about a possible sabotage plot, has just phoned from the Titusville Police Precinct, and we may have a problem. He’s coming back now with some cops. His instructions are to get security to hold Weisemann, until they get here.’
Brauer stared in surprise. ‘Why, what has he done?’
‘He didn’t say, but they found a copy of the LEM’s activation manual at his house. Weisemann is a main engine specialist, so what’s he doing with taking home the manual for Eagle?’
Swan sat at the back of the Mercury police car, as the police sergeant showed his pass to the security guard, at the main gate to the Kennedy Space Centre.
The barrier was lifted, and they drove straight to the main command centre. As the car turned the corner, a ridge, no longer blocked the officer’s view. He glanced into the far distance and saw the gantry to Launch Pad 39A, and the Saturn V standing next to it. ‘Boy, she sure is something. Just wait till I get home, and tell my kids where I’ve been today.’ The car stopped at the main entrance, and the two men climbed out.