Swan opened the double doors and walked into reception. ‘Alex Swan here, to see Mr Gorman.’
The security guard looked at the two men. ‘I’ll try and raise him for you guys, but he’s going to be kind of busy right now, with less than nine hours to the launch.’
Swan leant forward on the desk, slamming the bulky manual for the Lunar Module down in front of the guard. ‘This is urgent and he already knows I’m coming.’
The guard stared wide-eyed at the book, and suddenly took on a sheepish expression. ‘Okay, Mr Swan, I’ll try and get him for you now.’ He picked up the telephone receiver and dialled.
Inside the main control building, Lars Brauer walked along the corridor, in search of his German colleague. He checked the canteen, but had not seen him in there. He stopped outside a room, and opened the white windowed door. Inside the room, a technician sat at a desk checking some figures on a piece of paper.
Brauer smiled. ‘Please excuse me sir, do you know Peter Weisemann?’
The man looked up. ‘Yeah, the German engine guy, right?’
Brauer nodded, ‘Yes, have you seen him recently?’
The man thought for a minute ‘Yeah, I saw him over at Computer Operations, when I collected this data from the controller.
Brauer nodded in appreciation. As he exited the room, the speaker sounded. ‘Would engineer, Peter Weisemann, please report to the controller’s office immediately. That is Peter Weisemann, to the controller’s office.’ Brauer continued pacing across the floor, headed towards the Computer Room, and walked through the opened door.
The room appeared empty, with just the whirring and bleeping of the regimental blocks of machines. ‘Hallo, is anyone in here?’ Brauer called. He walked around the machines, over to the empty desks, and saw a pair of legs protruding from behind a free-standing console unit. They suddenly moved and Brauer heard a moaning sound. He walked around to see a man lying on the floor, rubbing the back of his head. Brauer knelt down and helped him up. ‘What happened?’
The man sat up, still rubbing his head. ‘That crazy Kraut hit me, I just told him, the LEM guidance data, didn’t add up, and he sat for a second, as if he didn’t hear me. I told him to run a test on the data transfer unit, and as I wrote down the data on my screen, he got up out of his seat and the next thing I remember, was something hitting my head.’
Brauer helped the man up and sat him down on the chair. ‘Please, sit here and I will call for a medic.’
The man nodded. ‘Thanks pal, I aint going anywhere… ouch!’
Brauer exited the room, walked over to the telephone on the wall, and picked up the receiver. ‘Hallo. Please can I have a medical person to the Computer Room, someone has been hurt.’
Swan stood opposite Gorman in the control room as the Launch Controller confirmed with him. ‘So, you’re still saying, that this guy Fleischer was in cahoots with Weisemann, as part of some secret Nazi faction, and that they’re gonna sabotage the Apollo 11 mission?’
Swan nodded. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’ The controller looked at his watch. ‘Jesus H Christ, we’ve gotta find this guy. I need to talk with Houston and delay the launch.’
He walked over to a desk, and picked up a headphone. ‘Houston, Kennedy Control here, we may have a problem. I need to speak with Flight, right away.’
The female operator at Houston instructed Gorman to hold, then she came back to him. ‘Kennedy Control, the Duty Flight Controller is on his lunch.’
Gorman shouted into the microphone. ‘Then page him will you lady? We have a goddamn emergency here.’
He placed his hand on his forehead ‘God damn it!’ He looked across the room at another technician. ‘Has Werner left for Houston yet?’
Weisemann stood inside a room leaning against a fixture. The speaker called out for him again, and he suddenly began to feel nauseous. Behind the door, he could hear voices, as security guards ran past the locked room. He was trapped. He was also aware, he would not be at his post to monitor the Saturn Vs main engines, but, he had no way out of this now. He cursed the Data Controller for noticing the errors.
Brauer walked slowly along the corridor, as armed security guards rushed past him in search of their prey. He started to feel for his colleague, and stopped to think, leaning on a door to a storeroom. Suddenly, he heard a low cough from behind the door. He turned and attempted to open it, realising it was locked. He knocked. ‘Hallo, is anyone in there? He spoke softly through the door, in German, ‘Peter is that you my friend? It is me, Lars,’
There was a pause, then through the door, Brauer heard a reply in German. ‘Please go away, Lars. Leave me. Please don’t tell the guards.’
Brauer looked around and saw that the corridor was deserted. ‘Peter, the way is clear my friend. Whatever it is, we can talk about it, just you and me. Come out, I promise that I am the only one here.’ He listened for a reply. Suddenly, the lock moved and the door opened slightly. He leant on it, forcing it to open further. ‘Peter, please come with me, it is safe.’
At first, Weisemann showed reluctance to the request of his colleague. He hesitated, staring at the floor. Brauer looked at him. ‘Peter? You did well my friend.’
Weisemann stared at him with a quizzical expression. ‘You are Cormorant?’
Brauer nodded, walked inside, closed the door and smiled. ‘Yes Albatross, I am Cormorant.’
A security guard ran alongside the medic, towards the Computer Room. When they opened the door, they saw a man sitting in the chair, wearing a headset. ‘Someone called for a medic,’ shouted the medical officer. There was no answer from the figure in the chair. The officer walked over to him and swivelled him around. The man’s eyes were closed, his face pale.
The medic grabbed the wrist and checked for a pulse, then shook his head. ‘This man’s dead!’ He shrieked to the guard.
Weisemann started to feel better. ‘Mien Gott, I never would have known it was you, Lars,’ he said.
Brauer nodded. ‘Yes, Fleischer did his job well, he managed to protect my identity.’
Weisemann stared at Brauer. ‘I hit the Data Controller, he discovered a problem with the data transfer and I…’
Brauer interrupted, raising a hand. ‘Don’t worry, Peter, I took care of it. The authorities will not discover the programme has been changed.’
Weisemann showed his surprise. ‘You killed him?’
Brauer acknowledged. ‘Yes, I had no choice. He would have alerted the authorities.’ He paced around his colleague, then stood behind him.
‘How did you kill him, Lars?’ He asked, as he felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck.
‘Like this my friend.’
He turned around to see Brauer holding a small syringe, just big enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Weisemann stared at him as his vision began to blur. He felt that he was falling, but his body remained upright. ‘What have you done? Why?’ Weisemann then collapsed, going into cardiac arrest at Brauer’s feet.
Brauer placed his hands on Weisemann’s shoulders, until the convulsing ceased, then as his eyes closed for the last time, he took hold of the dead man’s head, laying him down on the floor. He placed the syringe back into a small metal box that also contained two phials of clear liquid, closed it again, and placed it back into his work jacket. He looked down and felt Weisemann’s neck. Satisfied that the engine specialist was dead, he slightly opened the door to check that the corridor was clear, then walked out of the storeroom, shutting the door behind him.