He continued to watch as civilian and military catering staff moved quickly about, undeterred in their haste by the fact that it was close to midnight. He didn’t know what it was, but it was obvious from all the activity that some kind of significant function was to be held at the headquarters judging by the amount of preparation. Trucks had been arriving steadily in convoys over the last three days to unload food and supplies, while the flat fields beyond the main buildings that served as an airstrip had seen an equal amount of activity as transports from all over Occupied Europe had converged on the Reichsmarschall’s western headquarters.
The sound of the door opening at the far end of the main stable area alerted him to the fact that someone was coming long before he heard the approach of soft footsteps outside his room. Making no effort to turn around, he sagged visibly and a pained grimace flashed across his face as displeasure at yet another visit from the pestering Müller swept through him.
“Forgive me if I’m somewhat abrupt, Joachim, but I’m really not in the mood for a chat tonight,” he began with an exasperated sigh.
“No doubt Herr Müller would be shattered by your rejection, Doctor Lowenstein, however I suspect you will want to speak to me tonight, once you’ve heard what I have to say…”
The unexpected, English-speaking voice caught Lowenstein by surprise, and he whirled to find himself staring at a man standing in the open doorway to his room wearing the regimental dress uniform of an SS standartenführer.
“What is it you want?” The scientist asked plaintively, his voice wavering as he was filled with a sudden sensation of fear. “You lot tortured everything you wanted to know out of me years ago… I’ve nothing so say to you now…”
“That’s fine, Samuel… may I call you ‘Samuel’…?” Brandis asked genially as he stepped inside, hands clasped behind his back as if maintaining an ‘at ease’ position. “This’ll only be a short chat this evening, and it’s I who’ve come to do the talking, although I’ll warrant you’ll have a few questions for me before we’re done. Shall we sit down… we need to get on with this quickly… it would do neither of any good for me to be caught here with you alone tonight.”
“What are you talking about?” Lowenstein demanded, still apprehensive but also now somewhat intrigued by the man’s strange words and demeanour. The man was dressed in an SS uniform, but he carried none of the usual swagger or arrogance of an officer of the Schutzstaffeln.
“Please… sit…” Brandis urged, taking his own seat at the foot of the man’s bed. “I’m only supposed to be on a cigarette break, and questions will be asked if I’m not back soon. I need to give you this,” he added, reaching inside his dress jacket and drawing out a tiny automatic pistol with a short, stubby silencer screwed to its muzzle. He tossed it onto the bed beside him as Lowenstein looked on in horrified disbelief.
“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” He blurted out, self-control faltering. “You think I’m stupid enough to pick that up? If you wanted to shoot me, why not just get it over with? Surely there’s no need to fabricate a motive of self defence?”
“I sincerely hope you’ll not think to use that on me, Samuel… you may well need every one of the six rounds in this thing’s magazine. I’d suggest you save them for tomorrow night instead… far better idea…”
“What’s going to happen tomorrow night?”
“The OKW is having a huge conference tomorrow as part of last-minute invasion preparations, and part of that will include a rather large black-tie dinner in the evening. I’ve had a terrible time working to ensure we’ve had enough linen to cater for all of these incoming guests… I’ve been so overwhelmed by the whole thing that I’ve sent a few of the requisitions out in plain, un-coded language by ‘mistake’…” He smiled faintly. “I can scarcely imagine what MI6 must think, listening to all that silliness on the other side of The Channel.” The smile disappeared once more as he got back to business. “Anyway, some time after sunset, that dinner will be rather rudely disrupted by an aerial attack from an F-35E stealth fighter.” Most of Lowenstein’s suspicions evaporated as he heard that last sentence, and hope flared in the back of his mind once more. There were only two groups who could possibly know that a ‘stealth fighter’ was, and he was dead certain no one from New Eagles would be coming to him to speak of one, or to warn him of an impending attack.
“How could you know this…?” The scientist asked in breathless anticipation, finally dragging across a chair and seating himself in front of Brandis. “Who are you…? Where are you from…?” He paused, then rephrased as a far more pertinent question. “When are you from…?”
“Nowhere and everywhere,” Brandis replied with a wry smile. “Neither who I am nor where I’ve come from is particularly relevant at the moment… all you need to know is that this whole place will be thrown into chaos within 24 hours, and that will be a perfect opportunity for you to escape. You need to take that pistol and keep it hidden somewhere… you’ll know when to use it when the time comes…”
“Where shall I go? The area will be swarming with Germans, and I’m in the middle of occupied France… how far do you think I’ll get, even with a gun?”
“One of the servants here is a man by the name of François Reynard… he’ll be waiting for you as soon as you make it out of this stable. He’ll have a change of clothes and identification papers prepared for you. How’s your French?”
“Little used in the last twenty years, but I remember enough of it to pass for a native if I’m questioned by some idiot Jerry private.” Lowenstein gave a wry smile of his own. “‘Mother of Invention’ and all that… it’ll come back to me quick enough…”
“It’d better: the soldiers and officer’s you’re likely to be challenged by if you do get bailed up will be far from idiots.” Brandis gave that one warning before moving back to the subject at hand. “Once you make it clear of the area, you’re to head due south… there’s a small wood about a thousand metres away, and François will have a motorcycle waiting. From there, you’ll head east and be taken into the care of the French Resistance.”
“And after that…?”
“After that, we do nothing other than to keep you safe out of harm’s way for the time being,” Brandis answered quickly, ignoring the fleeting look of dismay that flickered across the other man’s features in the faint lighting of a single candle burning atop the bookcase nearby. “Britain will be invaded within two weeks, and will fall by the end of the year… there’s not going to be any point in getting you back across The Channel right now, and it would be too dangerous at the moment for us to try and take you south to Spain, or east to Switzerland. Once things have quietened down a bit, we can look at getting you somewhere a bit more permanent.” He glanced quickly at his wristwatch. “I have to go… I’ve already stayed longer than is safe…”