Overbeck spread his hands in the air and glanced up at the ceiling, as if speaking to G.o.d. 'I wasn't at Kahla that day,' he said, returning his gaze to Bradley. 'I normally worked there, but not that day. One of the wives here the wife of an SS officer wanted help in the house, and since the prisoner who normally did it fell ill and was therefore shot, I was dragged out of the queue waiting for transport and given to her instead. It's was as simple as that.'

Bradley studied the floor. It had the look of something solid. He needed it because his head was swimming in a whirlpool of madness.

'When did they leave?' he asked.

'Early this month,' Overbeck replied. 'Apparently Kammler went first, taking the scientists from Nordhausen '

'Who?'

'The scientists from Peenemnde.'

'But not Wilson?'

'No. Then Camp Dora was evacuated and the prisoners returned to their former camps. And finally, on the fourth, fifth, and sixth, the scientists from Kahla departed, one group each night.'

'Do you know where they went?'

'Prisoners working at the railway stations can confirm that the three trains, one each night, were all heading for different destinations: the first one marked to terminate at Rostock, the second for Lbeck, via Rostock, and the third and last for Hamburg, via Hanover. Since all of those places were in the line of the Allied advance, it can be a.s.sumed that they were only halfway houses and that the final destination would be on the Baltic.'

'Peenemnde?'

'No,' Overbeck said, stubbing his cigarette out with obvious unhappiness, then breathing deeply, as if yearning for another. 'Since the Soviets are advancing at great speed toward Peenemnde and were even then the only other possible destination would be a port of escape, most likely Kiel.'

Bradley straightened up in his chair. This priest who looked like death was pretty smart.

'Can you tell me anything else?' he asked.

'Just go to Kiel,' the priest said.

Bradley glanced through the window, saw the gallows and streaming smoke, shivered, and pushed his chair back and stood up to leave.

'Thank you,' he said.

'My pleasure,' Overbeck replied, his smile exposing his pain.

Bradley nodded at McArthur and they both left and walked back through Buchenwald. Bradley kept his gaze focused on the ground and prayed to G.o.d for deliverance... deliverance from hatred.

His new hatred for Wilson.

'I'm going to Kiel,' he said.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT Berlin was h.e.l.l on earth. The black-charred ruins stretched away as far as the eye could see, the air was thick with smoke and dust, people were queuing hopelessly for food and even water, bombs fell constantly from the Allied planes overhead, and from a mere thirty-two kilometres to the east, the guns of the Soviet army roared ominously.

Ernst's final visit to the Fhrer's bunker made him feel that he had entered an insane asylum. Goebbels had encouraged his unfortunate wife and six children to come and die with him and his beloved Fhrer when the city fell. Goring had fled to Karinhall, where his butler was waiting with fourteen carloads of treasures and expensive clothing. Bormann, after demanding the execution of Goring as a traitor, had telephoned his wife at Berchtesgaden, to inform her that he had found a hiding place for them in the Tyrol, that she was to pose as a director of refugee children, and that he had kidnapped six youngsters from the kindergarten in Garmisch to make their escaping group look more plausible. And, finally, the Fhrer was still babbling about secret weapons, accusing everyone of trying to betray him, ordering the arrest of that traitor, Goring, discussing the distribution of cyanide tablets with his frightened mistress, Eva Braun, veering wildly between chalkfaced exhaustion and outbursts of paranoid anger, and hoping to prolong the battle for Berlin until at least May 5, because he could then die on the same day as Napoleon.

All of this was taking place beneath the garden of the Chancellery, upon which Allied bombs were falling with the consistency of rain.

Himmler had been to the bunker that very morning to pay his respects to the Fhrer on his birthday, but had then left to return to Dr Gebhardt's sanatorium. Ernst made the 120-kilometre drive to Hohenlychen, pa.s.sing columns of marching German soldiers and trucks and tanks that were being bombed relentlessly by Allied aircraft.

Eventually he found himself in Himmler's study, which was practically dark. The Reichsfhrer was tapping his front teeth with his fingernails and looked gla.s.sy-eyed.

'I have not given up on negotiating peace,' he babbled without prompting from Ernst. 'I have instructed my ma.s.seur, Felix Kersten, to fly to Eisenhower's headquarters and discuss an immediate cessation of hostilities. I myself braved the pouring rain to meet with Norbert Masur, the representative of the World Jewish Congress, in an attempt to solve the vexing Jewish problem, explaining that I have already turned the camps at Bergen-Belsen and Buchenwald over to the Allies, have arranged the evacuation of nearly forty thousand prisoners from the camp at Sachsenhausen, and have authorized the release of another one thousand Jewish women from Ravensbruck and still the Schweine was not impressed!'

He glanced wildly around the room, as if expecting to see Soviet troops bursting through the walls, then tapped his front teeth with his fingernails again and took a deep breath.

'Nor have I forgotten Count Bernadotte, of the Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs, with whom I am still having consultations regarding a peace-making formula. I met him yesterday and will be meeting with him again. Failing that, I will arrange a personal meeting with Eisenhower, who may be more reasonable.'

He removed his pince-nez, rubbed his gla.s.sy, dazed eyes, blinked and put the spectacles on again, and glanced nervously about him.

'It's not fair,' he whined. 'Everyone wants something from me. Kersten and Sch.e.l.lenberg want me to overthrow the Fhrer with a coup d'etat. Von Krosigk has begged me to seek peace through the Pope. Meanwhile, I'm supervising secret negotiations elsewhere and now the Fhrer and those Schweine surrounding him in the bunker suspect me of treason. Have they arrested that imbecile Goring yet? I hope so. They should shoot him!'

He pushed his chair back, paced the floor, stopped to tap his front teeth with his fingernails, then sighed and sat down again.

'All hope is not lost,' he said. 'We still have our secret weapons. My stars tell me they'll be ready just in time to turn the tide in our favor.'

Ernst heard the Soviet guns. They were only sixteen kilometres from here. He wondered how Himmler could have managed to convince himself that his secret weapons, even if they existed, could be produced in time, and in sufficient quant.i.ties, to hold back the Soviet and Allied advance, let alone turn the tide.