'The one run by Wernher von Braun.'

'Correct, Colonel.'

'And when Wernher von Braun left to go to Peenemnde?' 'Wilson took over the larger hangars at k.u.mmersdorf.'

'Do you know what he was working on?'

'Some kind of highly advanced, radical aircraft.'

'Did you find out anything about it?'

'No. He sometimes talked about it, but I didn't understand what he was saying. He was an engineer, an aeronautical scientist, and such talk just bewildered me. I only understood that he was after an aircraft that could go straight up and down, like a helicopter, but could fly a lot faster. He said it was shaped like a saucer remember that much. In fact, the research program was called Projekt Saucer, which confirms what I say.'

Bradley thought of the hangar in Iowa, then of the Foo fighters, and knew he was heading in the right direction. 'Did von Braun know anything about Wilson's project?'

'I don't think so. It's possible, but I doubt it. I know from what Wilson told me that he'd contributed considerably to von Braun's rocket program by pa.s.sing on certain of his technical innovations. And I think that because of that von Braun believed that Wilson's experiments were related solely to the V-1 rocket program.'

'Who did know about Wilson's work?'

'The people who worked with him: an old Italian, Belluzzo, two German engineers, Habermohl and Miethe, and a Luftwaffe engineer, Flugkapitn Rudolph Schriever, who was obsessed with pleasing Himmler and tried stealing the credit for Wilson's work. While at k.u.mmersdorf, they were all under the supervision of an SS offlcer, Lieutenant Ernst Stoll now a captain, I think.'

'Is Wilson still at k.u.mmersdorf?'

'No. Conflict between him and Flugkapitn Schriever, with Schriever gaining Himmler's trust, led to the research team being split into two groups. One group, headed by Schriever, Habermohl, and Miethe, were sent to somewhere in Bohem, in Czechoslovakia, and the other, headed by Wilson alone, went to the Harz Mountains.'

'Whereabouts in the Harz Mountains?'

'I don't know exactly. He mentioned a place called Nordhausen, though I don't think he was actually going there, but to somewhere close to it.'

That made sense to Bradley. British and American aerial reconnaissance and local resistance intelligence had already confirmed that some kind of huge rocket production centre was located underground, near Nordhausen, in Thuringia. As that area was also part of the n.a.z.i's planned Last Redoubt, it was logical that anything related to secret weapons would be transported there.

Trying to hide his excitement, he forced himself to look at the heavily bandaged Greta Bernecker and asked, 'Is what when you and Wilson separated? When he was moved to Thuringia?'

'Yes,' she replied bitterly. 'We weren't married and only SS wives could go, so I was left in Berlin.'

'Yet ended up in Cologne.'

'Yes,' she said, still sounding bitter. 'The SS offered me a pension or the chance to work in one of their hospitals. Since the pension was laughable, I accepted their offer of work here. This was an SS hospital, Colonel, before you people came here.'

Bradley studied the woman carefully or what he could see of her. Her visible features were hard, the lips sensual, slightly cruel, and her gray eyes, though hardly filled with warmth, were admirably fearless. She might be paralysed for the rest of her life, but she was not seeking pity. You had to admire that.

'How did you come to be living with Wilson?' he asked her.

'I was working at the time as a nurse in a secret, experimental hospital just outside Berlin, and Wilson went there more than once to have some operations.'

'What do you mean by an "experimental" hospital?'

'It was devoted to Himmler's so-called anthropological experiments, mostly under the auspices of the Ahnenerbe, the Inst.i.tute for Research into Heredity. Normally, the experiments were carried out

often under appallingly crude conditions and without aesthetic on inmates from the concentration camps; but Wilson was obsessed with extending his life, and as soon as an experiment produced results, he made personal use of it, no matter how painful. He used himself a lot, in fact: gave his blood and urine and s.h.i.t and even s.e.m.e.n; underwent numerous tests and experiments. He had operations on his failing heart, on his stomach and joints; he even had some basic plastic surgery to make him look younger. He was a man obsessed, Colonel.'

'And no longer like a seventy-five-year-old.'

'No, the pig looked much younger.'

The vehemence was startling, but Bradley knew he could use it. 'Why did you move in with him,' he asked, 'if you detested him so much?'

'Because he asked for me,' she said. 'It was an SS hospital and he had a lot of influence. I wanted to have a few small luxuries, so I moved in with him.'

'Why did he want a woman at his age?'

Greta Bernecker, swathed in her bandages, actually managed a smile. Bradley didn't like her, but he had to admire her guts. The combination of bandages and courage reminded him of Gladys in the ambulance in Paris. Thank G.o.d, she was now back in London and writing letters again.

'It wasn't romance,' Greta said, 'if that's what you're thinking. No, he needed a trained nurse, one who understood his needs, and since I'd been looking after him for so long, I was an obvious choice... He was a vigorous man, Colonel those operations had done him good but he wasn't interested in normal s.e.x. What he wanted was his own s.e.m.e.n for the experiments, nothing more and since I'd already done it for him, he wanted me to m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.e him and then bottle his s.e.m.e.n and arrange for its delivery to the hospital. I did the same with his p.i.s.s and s.h.i.t and blood. It was a job and I did it.'