Krebbs was genuinely surprised. It had been long years since he had thought of his days at Peenemünde.
“I was,” he acknowledged. “I—”
“And today you are still active in rocket research,” Scharff interrupted. “Electronics, primarily. Am I correct?” He knew he was.
Krebbs nodded. “Quite correct, Herr Oberst.” He sipped his brandy. He needed time to collect himself. Von Braun? Peenemünde? “Really on a consultant basis these days,” he continued. “It—”
“Of course.” Scharff flashed his switch-on smile at him. He plowed on. “In the forties, when you were developing the V-2, you had a colleague named Marcus, yes?”
For the second time, surprise startled Krebbs. Theo? So many years ago…
“Yes,” he said. “Dr. Theodor Marcus. A most—”
“Exactly.” Unsmilingly Scharff broke in. “I presume you know that Dr. Marcus went with von Braun when he — eh, transferred his loyalties to the Americans in 1945?”
Krebbs was suddenly flooded with apprehension. He felt the nervous sweat collect in his armpits. He knew Theo had—“defected”—to the Americans. He also knew he himself would have done the same, had he been offered the chance. Had in fact solicited it. Did Scharff know that? What had Theo to do with his sudden forced night visit to this Colonel in the State Security? What did they want of him? After all these years? Was it, once again, guilt by association? No matter how long ago? He squirmed in his chair.
“I–I was aware of it,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm, and not entirely succeeding. “I–I have not been in contact with Dr. Marcus since — since—”
Scharff flashed him one of his switchcord smiles. “Oberammergau. Quite, Herr Doktor. I am aware of that.” He did not feel it necessary to tell Krebbs of his own involvement with Marcus so long ago. When Richter had come up with Dr. Wilhelm Krebbs as one of the erstwhile colleagues of Marcus, he'd recognized the name, of course. He'd been curious to meet “the one that got away.” Although, he thought — with the familiar and bitter chagrin that had plagued him ever since he'd learned of the splash Marcus had made in the American scientific community—he was the real “big one” that got away. And he, Scharff, had had the man in his net. It continued to gall him and he was eager for another chance to gaff his prey.
This time not the man himself — but his life's work.
It would be fully as satisfying…
Again he leaned toward his visitor. “But — to the point, as I promised you. Working with the Americans, Dr. Marcus has developed a — a certain device for them. A device that could be immeasurably important in the — eh, scheme of things. We have known of its existence for some time.”
He let the intelligence sink in.
“I see,” Krebbs said. He was deeply worried. Why tell him this?
“It is vital for our security, Dr. Krebbs — I am certain you understand — and that of our allies, of course, that we learn everything we can about this — eh, device.” Scharff sounded deadly earnest. He contemplated the scientist sitting in awkward discomfort across from him. “Now, Herr Doktor—and this is in the strictest confidence, of course — we have just been informed that this, eh, Marcus device was being tested, mounted on one of the newest and most sophisticated American fighter planes. The test flight took place only hours ago. The plane crashed.” He gave a short laugh. “Nothing we can take credit for,” he said. “An accident.”
He spread his hands. “We have been informed — reliably, of course — that the pilot survived. But — curiously — he is lost somewhere in the mountains of Southern California.”
Krebbs looked genuinely puzzled. “Herr Oberst,” he ventured, “I am afraid I don't—”
With a quick gesture Scharff silenced him. “You will, Herr Doktor. You will.” Again the quick, disconcerting smile — which almost at once turned into a look of solemnity. “You see, we are interested in enlisting your expert help, Dr. Krebbs. Let me explain. There is a possibility, a bare possibility, mind you, that I — that we may come into possession of the — eh, Marcus device. The physical device, that is. At the moment it seems to be—‘up for grabs,’ as the Americans so picturesquely express it. In what state is unfortunately impossible to tell.” He flashed a smile. “So of course we at once thought of you, my dear Herr Doktor Krebbs. A former close colleague and friend of Dr. Marcus who undoubtedly is quite familiar with his way of thinking — and working.”
Krebbs was taken aback. “But — I—”
Scharff firmly cut him off. “Now, Herr Doktor, straight to the point. If we should find ourselves in a position to furnish you with — eh, certain material, what would you need to be able to — to reconstruct the work of Dr. Marcus? Outside of his blueprints, of course.” He gave an unpleasant little laugh.
“Need?” Krebbs was dumfounded. He thought quickly. There did not seem to be any direct threat to him, after all. Some of his apprehension left him. Need? “Well,” he said pensively, “the device itself would certainly be a great help… or as much of it as possible, as you indicated. We might—”
Scharff interrupted impatiently. “I understand. If that proves unfeasible — what else? Any other possibilities? What else might be of help to you?”
Krebbs frowned in thought. He was beginning to get caught up in the challenge. “Notes,” he said. “Theo's — Dr. Marcus’ notes. They—” Scharff made a negative gesture. “Or perhaps an operations manual,” Krebbs went on. “A repair manual, that sort of thing. Procurement orders?” Scharff was listening. He said nothing. Krebbs continued. “Someone who had worked on the project might be of value. Or — the pilot. He would have had to be thoroughly familiar with the device in order to test it effectively.”
Scharff sat up, suddenly wholly interested.
Krebbs went on. “That would certainly have been the case with the top technicians conducting the tests at Peenemünde. If we could get a chance to question the pilot, we might learn enough from him to accomplish a reconstruction of the device.” He was suddenly aware that he was allowing himself to be carried away with the problem. Easy… “Only a possibility, of course,” he added lamely.
Scharff looked thoughtful. “Of course,” he echoed. “A possibility.” Sudden menace crept into his voice. “Though it may have to be a little more than that, my dear Herr Doktor.”
It was perfect, he thought. If they were not able to find the device itself in the wreckage before the Americans got it, they might be able to get the pilot. The Americans did seem to be having trouble finding him. If he “disappeared,” no one would wonder why — or how. He would simply have perished in the desert. Somewhere. Never to be found. It was perfect…
He stood up. “Until we know exactly how matters develop, I must ask you to hold yourself immediately available.” He flashed his disturbing smile. “In fact, I have taken the liberty of having some of your things brought here so you can be close. I am certain you will be — comfortable.”
Krebbs paled. All his apprehensions crowded back upon him. He, too, stood up. He looked at the Colonel. He had to play it out.
“Colonel,” he said. “This — device. I shall have to know what its purpose is — if I am to attempt a reconstruction.”