1945 (27 page)

"They've lost us. They're calling in a probable crash," Bachman announced in a shaky voice. "A very understandable error, in my opinion."

"Well, let's just follow the river a little farther, then weave our way home."

"You are a madman."

"This was a lark," Skorzeny replied. "You don't know what madness is." As he spoke he unmounted the camera from its brace and stashed it in its case. There had never been a second in which to do that until now. He hoped no one had noticed it.

April 17 Oak Ridge

Major General Leslie Groves, overall commander of the Manhattan Project throughout the United States, tossed the photographs of Skorzeny back across the conference table toward Harriman.

"You're sure?"

"I'd give it ninety percent at a minimum, sir. Martel here identified the body of one of his closest henchmen." Harriman pulled another photo out of a folder and slid it over to Groves.

"Little the worse for wear, isn't he?" Groves quipped to Colonel Charles Soratkin, head of security for Oak Ridge, as he slid that photo over to him as well.

"This man, Hans Freiter," Harriman said, "washed up in Charleston Harbor four days ago. He was Skorzenys personal bodyguard and batman. If he was bobbing around in Charleston Harbor, that means that Skorzeny was with him, and is therefore now in the United States."

"Why?"

"Sir, aside from the fact that Freiter was his personal aide, Skorzeny tends to keep operational control firmly in his own hands. While operating behind Russian lines he once walked right through the middle of Baku, dressed as a Soviet officer, for no other reason than to thumb his nose at Russian security and prove he could do it,"

Soratkin stirred angrily. "If that bastard shows his face within ten miles of this facility, he's a dead man. Every one of my people has his photograph as of this morning. They'll nail him."

"Sir," Martel said quietly, "I think he's already been in here. Our guess is that he made Knoxville by the morning of April 16th. He most likely assumed that we were starting to get a tail on him and, given the way he operates, we think he would have decided to do a personal recon."

Harriman looked over at Mason and nodded.

"General, I did a profile study on this man just after the war with Russia ended. He's courageous to the point of being suicidal. He leads from the front, always. He never sends his men into something; they follow him in. Nor is he the type to sit back and just wear his medals. He's con-standy seeking an ever-bigger challenge. If you examine his missions, you'll see that every single one was more spectacular and risky than the one before. He's compelled to push beyond the edge of what is thought possible. In other words, he's a lunatic, but a very functional lunatic."

"You'll notice the facial scars," Harriman added.

"Prussian dueling scars?" Groves asked.

"Yes, sir. He later said that when he got the first one he was thrilled because it didn't hurt as much as he expected and, more importantly, he didn't flinch. No matter what we do, this man will not flinch. Die, yes; he's only human. But flinch? Never. Trying to scare him would be pointless."

"So what the hell are you suggesting?"

"Nothing, sir," Harriman replied calmly. "I'm just trying to give you the background, that's all. You and your people are the security experts here, not us."

"So who exacdy are you people?" Soratkin asked pointedly. "You said the White House sent you, but where are you from? OSS? And who exacdy sent you?"

"I never actually said who sent us," Harriman said. "But you know as well as I do that there is only one place that can issue our boss orders, and that's the White House."

"But you
are
OSS ?"

"Our boss is William Donovan. Let's just leave it at that."

"A little outside your territory, aren't you?"

"Look, we're all on the same team here," Martel

interjected, ignoring Soratkin and looking over at Groves.

Groves held his hand up. "Enough of that, for now. Let's get back to our Aryan superspy. You say this character has already been in and out of the project area."

"What we are trying to say is that he's penetrated behind Russian lines on a number of occasions—behind the lines of a police state engaged in war. By the very nature of their system they can secure themselves in ways that we wouldn't dream of, even if we were at war. He beat them consistently. Frankly, penetrating here, before his photograph was distributed, would have been child's play. Not the plants, maybe, but the city."

"We also think he might have been behind that flight early this morning," Mason added.

"We've had student pilots off course before," Soratkin said reasonably, "Why not this time?"

"The same pilot was so unskilled a navigator he couldn't keep on course—and so skilled an aerobat he could evade fighter planes with flying circus maneuvers and fly under bridges?" Mason asked dryly.

"We're checking on it," Soratkin replied. "If there's anything behind it, the FBI will get whoever did it. You don't work here day to day, I do. If I got worked up every time a plane went off course I'd have been dead years ago. I could show you a stack of reports five feet high regarding planes off course over this area and usually they're some damn stupid pilot who couldn't piss north after you show him Polaris. The FBI is checking every airfield within a hundred and fifty miles, and if they get a lead, they'll haul the idiot in.

"As for the fighter report on the acrobatics, well, they lost him, didn't they? Of course they'd say he was superman in a plane. Chances are he was some kid thinking he was a navy pilot." Soratkin stared straight at Martel and smiled. "And as for Skorzeny, he hasn't beat us yet. We've already been briefed by the FBI on this, and I should add that they've been working with us since this project started. We've yet to have a serious security breach and I intend to make sure that record stands.

"Now, answer my question: Just what the hell are you people doing here?"

"As I told General Groves, we've had dealings with Skorzeny before," Harriman said calmly. "Mason here has met Skorzeny and several men of his team. Martel's met him as well, though only briefly. We just wanted to put ourselves in a position to offer our assistance. We're the only people working for an American security agency with the experience of personal contact. After all, our job is intelligence and counterintelligence, and that falls under what must surely be part of Skorzenys mission."

"Until we hear otherwise directly from the President or General Marshall internal security remains the sole responsibility of the FBI and the Army as far as this project is concerned," Soratkin replied. "We can handle this Skorzeny from here. Maybe he was able to pull off his games on the damned Russians, but he's up against another team here, Mr. Harriman, and that bastard is in for a rude awakening."

At that moment an aide appeared at the door.

Groves glanced at the lieutenant and asked, "Yes, what is it?'

"Phone call for Mr. Harriman, sir. From a Mr. Donovan. He says it's urgent."

Groves turned to Harriman. "You can take it in my office."

Harriman nodded his thanks and followed the lieutenant.

Groves, lighting a cigar, looked at Soratkin, started to say something and checked himself, and instead turned to Martel. "Commander, it was you who first put two and two together on this. Maybe you got four, and maybe you came up with five. For argument's sake let's say it was four. So what do you think is the real game here? Just what is your super commando up to?"

Jim paused for a moment in thought. "Sir, I just don't know. It's like a mouse attacking an elephant. No matter how evil its intentions, it doesn't have the means. But just because I can't figure out what he's up to doesn't mean he isn't up to something. In my opinion the weight of evidence has become incontrovertible. I think, sir, that within a week the United States will be at war with Germany. I also think that the war will start right here at Oak Ridge, Tennessee."

Soratkin snorted derisively, but a sharp look from Groves silenced him.

"Go on, Commander. Why here, why now?"

"You're building an atomic bomb."

"Just what the hell makes you think that?" Soratkin shouted.

"It was felt essential that we should know," Harriman, who had just reappeared, interjected. "The clearance came straight from the White House, sir."

"The Germans know about this project," Jim continued, "and for Hitler that is reason enough. Hitler wants to fight us before we have an unbeatable weapon. To achieve that end he must cripple this project. He knows what he would do with such a weapon as you are building here, and assumes the same of us. I suspect the notion of having it and not using it isn't even within his mental universe."

"Not a bad thought at times," Groves muttered. Tt'd be a pleasure to test drop it on that bastard's resort while he's there."

"Given the points I've just outlined," Martel said, fixing Groves with his gaze, "I believe that Otto Skorzeny is not here just to spy or support a spy effort. He's here for sabotage. Furthermore, this action could only be contemplated as part of an overall surprise attack on the United States."

Finally Groves crushed out his cigar and took overt control of the meeting. "You're the third briefing I've received today on this subject," he said. "First, before my damned breakfast, a call from the President's Chief of Staff.

Then the FBI tells me there's a spy loose. And now you.

"Son, I've been on this project for four years. I've lived, eaten and slept with it. I've looked at every angle and so has Soratkin. We've got layers of security on this place you wouldn't even dream of. You're talking about at most twenty commandos running around with this Teutonic superman. Oh, they might be able to penetrate the outer barrier, but we'd have their asses in the wringer before ever they closed on the inner circle. Furthermore, if they've scoped this place out, they know we'll nail them."

Groves's tone turned sardonic. "However, in view of your concerns, which you have so dutifully shared with the President, and he through his chief of staff with me, I've arranged for further measures. I'm bringing in two companies of Rangers. They will be posted inside the key facilities on a twenty-four-hour watch for point defense, and on the perimeter in hunter-ambush teams. If Skorzeny's their best, he'll meet some of our best—and when they're done with him we'll send his scalp back to Adolf as a souvenir of the visit. Does that make you happy?"

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir," Harriman said, snapping his briefcase shut and standing.

Martel looked over at Harriman, wanting to say more but fully understanding that Trevor wanted to end the interview.

"Gentlemen, thank you for your input," Groves said.

"Sir, just one request," Harriman asked.

"Go ahead."

"Our boss expects us to be here and to be available to supply you with advice when and as needed. Those are his orders, sir. Can we at least get security badges to come here, to the administrative area of this base, and a room at the hotel here on base? We just want to be available. I know our boss would view it as a personal favor on your part, and he'd be glad to send our security clearances over to you."

Groves nodded. "For the administrative area and hotel only. Step one foot beyond the permitted area and my people will lock you up so deep it'll be winter before Donovan can dig you out. Is that clear?"

"Thank you, sir," Harriman said with a smile, "perfectly clear."

"Soratkin will assign someone to set you up. I've got other things to attend to. Good day, gendemen."

On their way out Harriman told them, "My call was from our boss. He had a tip for us."

Both Jim and Wayne were suddenly attentive.

The tip comes from Europe. You guys are to check out every airfield in a pie slice due east to east-northeast from Oak Ridge outward as far as it takes, up to one hundred and fifty miles. If you get past the fifty-mile point I'll see about getting you a plane, but you can start out by car."

"Why are we going to do that?" Wayne asked.

"Because, according to Mr. Donovan's informant, at some airfield within that range you will find Otto Skorzeny and his merry men."

"Aren't you going to tell Groves about this?" Jim asked.

"Of course," Harriman replied. "But not while he can decide to detain you two so you can't 'muddy the waters.'"

April 17

Fort Knox, Kentucky Headquarters, 3rd Armored Division

"George, this is MacArthur, how are you?"

MacArthur's voice was distinctive, and easily imitated. For a moment Major General George Patton was tempted to bark an obscenity and slam the receiver down, but at the last instant something stayed him.

"Doug?"

MacArthur chuckled softly, something that both caused Patton's blood pressure to go up a notch and confirmed the identity of his caller. One of the many things Patton disliked was being caught by surprise, even in conversation.

"George, are you alone?"

"Yes,
sir."

"Good. We need to talk."