Designated Targets

That would have happened in 1944 but—

“Pah!”

Himmler chided himself and waved away these idle thoughts. Would have, could have, should have, may have . . . It was all so pointless. What mattered was that they strike a massive coordinated blow against the English-speaking world, to smash them so hard that they would be crippled, if not destroyed altogether.

He knew that Stalin was using the current hiatus to desperately shore up his own defenses, but to no avail— it would never be enough. Russia would burn, and this time they wouldn’t make the mistake of sending millions of troops into the wasteland of the steppes.

A thin, contemptuous smile twisted his features as he thought of the eagerness with which Stalin had accepted the terms of the cease-fire.

The small procession of cars motored through the northern gates of the Wolfschanze, past a checkpoint manned by the finest of all German troops, the Leibstandarte-SS Adolf Hitler. Himmler nodded approvingly as the men snapped out an extra-crisp salute for his car when it glided past.

The outer ring of the complex, which enclosed an area of two and a half square kilometers, was secured by minefields and a double-apron barbed-wire fence, although that was gradually being replaced with electrified razor wire as it became available. The main bunker was located in the north of the compound and sat within a secondary enclosure.

Thousands of workmen still crawled over the eighty or so fortified structures, hardening them against possible Allied air or missile strikes. Almost no evidence remained of the original wooden buildings, which now formed the inner shell of triple-bunkered concrete blockhouses. Himmler missed the old-world charm of the original design. It had felt like visiting a hunting lodge out here in the woods. But such whimsy was for quieter times.

His driver was forced to stop at the inner ring, as his identity was verified, although that did not take long.

Himmler climbed out of the rear seat as a car pulled up from behind, and the Japanese ambassador arrived. The German waited for Lieutenant General Hiroshi Oshima, not really wanting to talk to Kaltenbrunner.

“Reichsfuhrer, a fine day, if a little chilly,” said Oshima. “It reminds me of the forests on Hokkaido.”

“Herr General,” Himmler responded. “Let us hope that the first snows hold off a little while longer, eh?” They shook hands and entered the Lagebaracke, where the July Plot would have—

Himmler sighed again.

He really had to concentrate on what was, not on what would have been.

Albert Speer was talking. Another survivor, even though the evidence against him was even more damning than it had been against Kaltenbrunner. The minister of armaments would have survived the war and not been executed, which Himmler found very suspicious. Unfortunately, the information available on him was even more sparse, and largely second- or even third-hand. There was one reference to a book about him called The Good Nazi, which infuriated Himmler because he couldn’t be sure whether the title was meant to be ironic or literal.

But, the fuhrer had intervened—one of the few times he’d done so. Thanking the Reichsfuhrer- SS for his diligence, he had suggested that Speer was too valuable to condemn, at least for the moment, when they had already lost so many and faced the immense challenge of the coming months. He argued that Heydrich had been allowed to live, despite his Jewish blood, so Speer should be given a chance to redeem himself by bringing the special projects to fruition. He was on notice, the fuhrer had said, and he’d seen what happened to the others. If he could not be trusted, he could at least be watched.

Himmler privately thought the fuhrer was still upset over the business with Rommel.

So Speer was alive, although he never seemed to look Himmler in the eye. To the Reichsfuhrer, he very much appeared to be a man with something to hide.

His turn would come.

“And so, I am afraid the jet program will not reach its maturity in time,” said Speer, never once looking up from his notes.

Goring began to grumble, and curse under his breath as Speer carried on.

“So I recommend that while we continue to invest in the development of these jets, there are other, much more pressing programs in need of our resources. The use of radar, to direct antiaircraft fire, has greatly limited the Allies’ ability to strike at our preparations for Sea Dragon. But we still lag in this area, and while the productive capacity exists, the program lacks the funding needed to achieve its goals.

“I can add fifty percent to our coverage immediately, if the Chancellery will just release the funds. That extra capacity will be crucial. The RAF has changed its tactics, and has begun striking at our radar sites with these wooden Mosquitoes, flying low and fast and firing a new rocket specifically designed to home in on radar emissions. They, too, have accelerated their weapons-development programs. And they posses the Trident, which we do not—”

“We would have such a ship, if it weren’t for our yellow friends,” Goring muttered, a little too volubly.

“Enough,” Hitler commanded. “Let Speer continue.”

Himmler glanced over at the Japanese ambassador but his face was a marble mask. For once, the SS chief agreed with Goring. He didn’t think they should have let the Dessaix out of their grasp, either. It would have been invaluable in the coming operation. But the fuhrer had insisted. They would fight this war as a global conflict. The Japanese were closely coordinating their plans with the Reich, and Yamamoto insisted that those plans turned on the Dessaix. Besides, she had been stripped nearly bare before being sent to the Pacific. She might not play a direct role in Sea Dragon, but some of her weapons systems would.

Himmler listened as Speer mumbled a thank-you to Hitler and pressed on. Still refusing to raise his head.

“The Panzerfaust Two-fifty, a great improvement on the model Thirty, will be ready, but in limited numbers,” he said. “On current scheduling, twelve hundred will be available in the one-use format. There are also two hundred prototype reusable Panzerschrecken, available immediately, with a projected supply of eighteen to nineteen hundred warshots.”

Himmler moved his cold gaze away from Speer for a moment to let it rest upon General Ramcke. The paratroop commander had designs on those weapons, along with the body armor and assault rifles under development at Monovitz. Himmler met the man’s gaze and held it, forcing the Fallschirmjager to lower his eyes. The new SS special units would be receiving those items. They had been in training with the prototypes and mock-ups from the first day of the project.

He went back to staring impassively at Speer. The armaments minister spoke for another quarter hour, outlining the state of all the accelerated programs for which he was responsible. When he was finished, the fuhrer dismissed him, along with all the other minor functionaries.

The room cleared quickly, until only four men remained besides Himmler and Oshima. The fuhrer of course, Reichsmarshall Goring, Herr Doktor Gobbels, and Foreign Minister Ribbentrop, who was one of the few people besides Himmler who had come to enjoy even greater prestige and power since the Emergence. He had negotiated the cease-fire with Stalin, and Hitler considered it to be a master stroke. And more important, like Kaltenbrunner, he had died well in the other history.

Ribbentrop was the first Nazi to hang at Nuremberg, and he had gone out proclaiming his loyalty to the fuhrer. Even Himmler could find no fault in that, although the man remained the most awful preening snob.

With the meeting reduced to the inner core of the Reich, Himmler opened the manila folder that contained his notes. Although he had become comfortable using a flexipad, he still preferred to rely on paper and ink in situations such as this one. It wouldn’t do for his briefing to be marred by a misplaced data file or malfunctioning software. He didn’t understand how this “Microsoft Corporation” could have become so dominant in die andere Zeit. He found their products to be annoying, and entirely unreliable.

“The Demidenko Project proceeds well,” he began. “The Bolsheviks have committed enormous resources, and state that they are satisfied with progress, which of course, remains far behind the joint research we are carrying out with the Japanese government. Demidenko has allowed us to test much of the secret theoretical work