As Reuters and Schiller also stood, the pair made a move toward the bulkhead hatch. Zeigler halted at the opening, turning for a moment to add: “In future, Herr Reichsmarschall, the Directors would appreciate it if you found a little more time for us in your busy schedule: that might go some way toward removing the necessity of unannounced visits such as this evening.”
“Duly noted, Mein Herren…I’ll do my humble best to comply…”
Outside the aircraft, Zeigler and Strauss climbed into the rear of their waiting Maybach limousine, their faces grim as the driver selected first gear and the huge black sedan moved away from the airstrip and back up the mountain toward the nearby market town of Berchtesgaden and their exclusive chalet accommodation.
The Maybach — a Zeppelin DS8 model with an eight litre, V12 engine — belonged to Strauss, and had been his preferred mode of transport since he’d bought the luxury sedan brand new in 1934. Weighing close to three tonnes, the huge machine was nevertheless still capable of over 160 kilometres per hour on a good stretch of flat road.
Oswald Zeigler and Dieter Strauss were both filthy rich. Both owned the rights to numerous worldwide patents for a whole range of industrial and commercial products and inventions that had allowed both men to amass huge fortunes in the years since the end of the Depression. Both were members of a group known as the New Eagles ‘Board of Directors’: a group comprised of seven men who were all equally wealthy and prominent pillars of German industry. Like Reuters and Schiller, both men (and indeed all seven) were also originally from the future.
The Directors had been the group who’d financed the New Eagles’ accumulation of technology and equipment in preparation of the group’s return to the past to change the course of history. It had been the business and scientific connections within the group that had made possible the disappearance of physicist Samuel Lowenstein, along with the bulk of his research notes, and had ultimately brought about the creation of the device known as the temporal displacement unit as a result. An unlikely collection of individuals with quite differing personalities and demeanours, all were bound together by two significant things in common: an unfailing belief in National Socialism and an unquenchable greed.
It was this group of men who’d originally conceived of the incredible idea of travelling back through time and of a triumphant Nazi Germany. It was these men who’d recruited General Kurt Reuters of the Deutsche Bundeswehr, forced into early retirement by the tail-end of a downsizing trend that had swept through armies right across Western Europe in the years following the collapse of Communism and the destruction of the Berlin Wall. It was these men who’d provided the bitter and disillusioned Reuters, an orphan and a product of a Germany shattered by the aftermath of the Second World War, with a new drive and purpose: the opportunity to erase a childhood filled with a nation’s shame and humiliation at the hands of uncaring Allies, along with the oppression and separation of half the country by the Soviet Union.
“He’s progressively becoming a greater liability,” Strauss observed with soft bitterness as the sedan cruised smoothly along the dark, narrow mountain roads.
“He always was a liability, Dieter,” Zeigler countered evenly, more thoughtful than disapproving, “but a necessary one: we could never have accomplished all this without him.” He gave a non-committal shrug. “Of course, no one can ever be considered indispensable. If this war progresses to the successful conclusion we expect, I can easily foresee a not-so-far-off future in which we’ll no longer require the services of our friend, the Reichsmarschall.”
“I think I should very much like to be present when that time comes,” Strauss growled in a decidedly evil tone.
“I’m sure we can work something out, my dear fellow,” Zeigler grinned wryly. “Consider it my gift to you…”
“I feel like I should be carrying a crucifix and hanging garlic from the walls,” Schiller shuddered openly once the pair had gone, only half joking. “It’s like being too close to a pair of hyenas at feeding time whenever they pay us a visit.”
“Fortunately, this aircraft does have a shower,” Reuters added, joining in on the attempt at humour to release the tension he’d repressed throughout the meeting. “I may well avail myself of it shortly.” He gave a faint snort of derision. “With all the dubious alliances I’ve had to forge with Nazis in this era, I regret none of them as much as the unpleasant necessity of dealing with those ‘creatures’ from our own time!” That in itself was a significant statement, and he grimaced as he recalled memories long past. “The number of times we’ve sat through their ‘When We Rule the World’ speeches over the last decade!”
“They’re not going to like it when they find out you’ve talked to The Führer about postponing Barbarossa: they’re as fixated with the idea of invading the USSR as he is.”
“Of course they are, and for the same reasons, albeit on a far smaller scale: Russia’s where they’re all going to build their personal little ‘empires’… as if the fortunes they’ve amassed here in Germany aren’t huge enough already.” He let out another derisive snort. “Fortunately, we are in the business of making decisions based upon sound tactical and strategic principles rather than irrational actions born from an overwhelming desire for economic gain.”
“And they’re just going to take that lying down are they?”
“Oh, I suspect they’ll probably try to have me killed… you too, most likely,” Reuters replied with a cheery, matter-of-fact tone that did nothing to make his friend feel any better.
“Well, that’s something to look forward to,” Schiller observed sarcastically with a grimace.
“I did say ‘try’,” Reuters countered with a genuine smile. “What’s the point of having a very close relationship with the Reichsführer-SS if you can’t make use of the resources he has at hand once in a while.” His smile became thin and quite evil as he spoke. “We’ve already compiled enough evidence on the personal activities of four of them to have them shot, and guilt by association should well be sufficient to take the rest of them along for the ride.” The Reichsmarschall shrugged. “They’re support and their money are both vital to Germany’s industrial capabilities at the moment, and that in turn makes them indispensable… for the moment. That’s not going to go on forever, though, and it’d take just one word in the right ear and the whole lot would be rounded up within twenty-four hours, should the ‘Directors’ decide to make themselves too much of a problem.”
“It’s such a pleasure to watch you work sometimes, Kurt,” Schiller observed with a sly grin of his own, shaking his head at his superior’s growing talent for backroom wheeling-and-dealing. “I’m just glad I’m on your side! It’s the Brits I truly feel sorry for…”
Wehrmacht Western Theatre Forward HQ
Amiens, Northern France
Wednesday
July 3, 1940