‘This is… impossible,’ Wolfensohn said. ‘How can this be?’
‘With respect, Herr Obergruppenführer,’ Eisen said, ‘the science is rather too complex to explain. Suffice to say, Månsson and I have between us developed a method to defer death …to imbue the dead with the control of the living.’
‘It’s a relatively simple process, actually,’ Månsson began to explain. ‘One just has to identify the chemical compounds responsible for—’
Scherler silenced him with a wave of his hand.
Wolfensohn approached the captive man again, edging nearer, but ensuring he remained just out of reach. ‘The implications are vast… incalculable. The Führer will be pleased. This discovery of ours will alter the course of the war.’ He edged closer still, as if taunting the reanimated corpse, teasing it. The dead man duly reacted, pulling hard against his shackles. A prisoner showing such fearless dissent when facing a senior SS officer – it was unheard of.
‘An undefeatable army,’ Wolfensohn mused. ‘A soldier who cannot be killed because he is already dead, a warrior who acts without fear or hesitation… the enemy will have no answer to an unstoppable force such as this.’
‘It is more than that, Herr Obergruppenführer,’ Eisen said. ‘Witness the full change in our subject’s character. Just a few minutes ago, this man barely had the strength to hold up his own head. Now look at his fury. Look at his anger. His hatred.’
Wolfensohn glanced back at the rest of the room. Some of his underlings were nodding and agreeing obediently. Others seemed quite unable to process everything they were witnessing.
In the brief moment Wolfensohn was distracted, the dead man lunged again. This part of Polonezköy was dilapidated and rarely used, and the unnatural strength of the corpse was sufficient to yank several rusted screws from the plaster and brick wall. A few extra inches of reach was enough, and the emaciated cadaver grabbed hold of Wolfensohn. The two of them stumbled down to the ground together. The SS officer was caught off-guard, but fortunately the prisoner was yanked back by the one arm still chained to the wall. The dead man’s teeth snapped inches from Wolfensohn’s face, spraying blood-tinged spittle. The Nazi forced one leather-gloved hand up and gripped tight the crazed creature’s painfully thin neck. He hefted the body up and away, helped by SS-Unterscharführer Ruprecht Weigle who happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. All Weigle wanted to do was run, but the consequences of failing to help the Obergruppenführer did not bear thinking about.
Scherler tried to help Wolfensohn up, but the senior officer brushed him away and used an upturned chair for support instead. He stood upright and cursed the state of his once-impeccable uniform, now drenched with the dead prisoner’s rancid blood.
‘The tenacity of this monster is remarkable,’ Wolfensohn said. Even now the damn creature was still struggling, still fighting to escape its bonds.
Professor Eisen crept forward again. ‘Do you understand now, Herr Obergruppenführer? We can create a race of super-soldiers which are impervious to pain and which want nothing more than to kill.’
Wolfensohn, his composure returning, pointed at SS-Unterscharführer Weigle. ‘I want to see you fight that creature. One on one.’
‘But sir…’
Wolfensohn was in no mood for dissent. He glared at one of the stormtroopers who’d chained the prisoner to the wall. ‘Remove his chains,’ he ordered, ‘and the rest of you keep back. I want to gauge the ability of Professor Eisen’s creation.’
Without hesitation, a bubble of space formed around SS-Unterscharführer Weigle. The shackles were removed, and the prisoner came straight at him. Weigle side-stepped, and the dead man flew into the space where the young Nazi had just been, then kept going and collided with the wall. His head left a bloody mark on the grubby plaster, but his injury seemed not to bother him in the slightest as he turned around on leaden feet and fixed Weigle in his sights again.
Weigle had a new-found confidence now. Buoyed up by his opponent’s slothful reactions, he wondered whether this was as dangerous a situation as he’d originally thought. The dead prisoner came at him a second time and, once again, he was able to slip out of the way.
‘I ordered you to fight the prisoner, not dance with him.’
Nervous laughter echoed around the room in response to Wolfensohn’s jibe, but Weigle wasn’t laughing. He had his rifle ready now, and as the dead man came at him for a third time, he opened fire.
It was the prisoner’s speed which caught him off-guard. Although he blasted the man’s pelvis and one knee, and hit him in the neck and once more in the chest, the drug-fuelled monstrosity had enough forward momentum to keep coming through the gunfire. The prisoner grabbed hold of Weigle, gripped his tunic tight, then pulled himself close enough to sink his yellowed teeth into the unterscharführer’s neck. Blood poured from the vicious wound and the Nazi dropped to the ground, buried under the dead man’s relentless attacks.
With a casual nonchalance, Wolfenson grabbed the prisoner by the scruff of his neck and lifted him up. He continued to twist and writhe, but the Nazi’s strength was sufficient to keep snapping jaws at bay. He raised his Walther again, held it to the dead man’s temple, and blew a hole in his head. He immediately became limp – as if a switch had been flicked – and the Obergruppenführer dropped him and wiped his bloody hands. ‘Most interesting…’ he said as he paced the room. Scherler and Professor Eisen followed close behind, scurrying after him nervously. He stopped. ‘There is some potential here.’
‘Forgive me, Herr Obergruppenführer,’ the professor said, sounding nervous yet excited, ‘but there is more than just potential. Our work will change the direction of the war.’
The Nazi turned to face the professor who visibly cowered. Despite being several inches shorter than the willowy scientist, his aggression, rank and physical strength was clearly intimidating.
‘Professor Eisen, may I remind you that almost the entire world is presently at war. May I also remind you that there are many directions on a compass.’
‘I do not follow…’
‘A change of direction is one thing, but do not allow your parlour games, as impressive as they may be, to give you a false sense of security. The direction we take must be the direction the Führer wishes us to take. We must not be hasty and choose the wrong option.’
‘But Herr Obergruppenführer—’
‘This serum you have developed,’ Wolfensohn continued, ‘it has potential, but I also foresee risks. We must maintain control.’
‘Herr Obergruppenführer, I can assure you that we will have full control of—’
Wolfensohn roughly shoved Eisen to one side and fired his pistol directly into the pallid face of dead Unterscharführer Weigle who was now back up, coming at them on unsteady feet, a hair’s breadth from attacking the professor. Wolfensohn’s aim was dead-on and the back of Weigle’s head exploded crimson against the grey plaster wall.
‘Professor Eisen, I do not believe you can assure me of anything just yet. I have seen enough to appreciate the potential of this development, but potential alone will not win us the war. You will leave with us for Berlin tonight and continue your work there.’
‘Of course, Herr Obergruppenführer, but I have all I need here. Månsson and I have adequate facilities and all the bodies we need for experimentation. Please allow me to remain here…’
Eisen stopped talking, because it was clear that Wolfensohn wasn’t listening. He’d turned his back and was already on his way out of Polonezköy.