“That depends on how you mean it,” Keitel said “The people disappointed me in the way they allowed themselves to be seduced, but the common people always lack the discipline to know what is good for them The real cause of our national misfortune… ”
“Precisely — the Americans and the Russians.”
“Mein lieber Gunther, even a united Germany cannot—”
“Yes, it can. If we are to remake the world into our image, Erwin, both of our oppressors must be damaged severely”
'But how?”
“There is a way Can you believe me that much, just for now?”
Keitel drained his beer and sat back He'd helped train Bock At fifty six, it was too late for him to change his ideas of the world, and he was still a fine judge of character. Bock was a man such as himself. Gunther had been a careful, ruthless, and very effective clandestine operator.
“What of our detective friend?”
Bock shook his head “As much satisfaction as that might give me, no This is not a time for personal revenge. We have a movement and a country to save ” More than one, in fact, Bock thought, but this was not the time for that. What was taking shape in his mind was a grand stroke, a breathtaking maneuver that might — he was too intellectually honest to say would, even to himself — change the world into a more malleable shape. Exactly what would happen after that, who could say? That would not matter at all if he and his friends were unable to take the first bold step.
“How long have we known each other — fifteen years, twenty?” Keitel smiled. “Aber naturlich. Of course I can trust you.”
“How many others can we trust?”
“How many do we need?”
“No more than ten, but we will need a total of ten.”
Keitel's face went blank. Eight men we can trust absolutely…?
“That is too many for safety, Gunther. What sort of men?” Bock told him. “I know where to start. It should be possible… men of my age… and some younger, of your age. The physical skills you require are not difficult to obtain, but remember that much of this is beyond our control.”
“As some of my friends say, that is in God's hands,” Gunther said with a smirk.
“Barbarians,” Keitel snorted. “I have never liked them.”
“Ja, doch, they don't even let a man have a beer,” Bock smiled. “But they are strong, Erwin, they are determined, and they are faithful to the cause.”
“Whose cause is that?”
“One we both share at the moment. How much time do you need?”
Two weeks. I can be reached—'
“No.” Bock shook his head. “Too risky. Can you travel, are you being watched?”
“Watch me? All of my subordinates have changed allegiance, and the BND knows that the KGB will have nothing to do with me. They would not waste the assets to watch me. I am a gelding, you see?”
“Some gelding, Erwin.” Bock handed over some cash. “We will meet in Cyprus in two weeks. Make sure you are not followed.”
“I will — I do. I have not forgotten how, my friend.”
Fromm awoke at dawn. He dressed at leisure, trying not to wake Traudl. She'd been more of a wife in the past twelve hours than in the preceding twelve months, and his conscience told him that their nearly failed marriage had not been entirely her fault. He was surprised to find breakfast waiting on the table for him.
“When will you be back?”
“I'm not sure. Probably several months.”
“That long?'
“Mein Schatz, the reason I am there is that they need what I know, and I am being well paid.” He made a mental note to have Qati send additional funds. So long as money kept coming in, she'd not be nervous.
“It is not possible for me to join you?” Traudl asked, showing real affection for her man.
“It is no place for a woman.” Which was honest enough that his conscience allowed itself to relax a little. He finished his coffee. “I must be off.”
“Hurry back.”
Manfred Fromm kissed his wife and walked out the door. The BMW was not affected in the least by the fifty kilos of weight in the trunk. He waved to Traudl one last time before driving off. He gave the house a final look in the mirror, thinking, correctly, that he might not see it again.
His next stop was the Karl Marx Astrophysical Institute. The single-story buildings were already showing their neglect, and it surprised him that vandals had not broken windows. The truck was already there. Fromm used his keys to let himself into the machine shop. The tools were still there, still in hermetically sealed crates, and the crates were still marked Astrophysical Instruments. It was just a matter of signing some forms he'd typed up the previous afternoon. The truck driver knew how to operate the propane-fueled forklift, and drove each crate into the container. Fromm took the batteries from the trunk of his car, and set them in a final, small box, which was loaded on last. It took him an additional half hour to chain things down in place, and then he drove off. He and “Herr Professor Fromm” would meet again outside Rotterdam.
Fromm rendezvoused with Bock in Greifswald. They drove west in the latter's car — Bock was a better driver.
“How was home?”
Traudl liked the money a great deal,' Fromm reported.
“We'll send her more, at regular intervals… every two weeks, I think.”
“Good, I was going to ask Qati about that.”
“We take care of our friends,” Bock observed, as they passed over what had once been a border crossing. Now it was merely green.
“How long for the fabrication process?”
“Three months… maybe four. We could go faster,” Fromm said apologetically, ”but remember that I have never actually done this with real material, only in simulation. There is absolutely no margin for error. It will be complete by the middle of January. At that point, it is yours to use.' Fromm wondered, of course, what plans Bock and the others had for it, but that was not really his concern, was it? Doch.
15
DEVELOPMENT
Ghosn could only shake his head. He knew objectively that it resulted from the sweeping political changes in Europe, the effective elimination of borders attendant to the economic unification, the collapse of the Warsaw Pact and headlong rush to join in the new European family. Even so, the hardest part of getting these five machine tools out of Germany and into his valley had been finding a suitable truck at Latakia, and that had actually been rather difficult, since negotiating the road into where his shop lay had incomprehensibly been overlooked by everyone — including, he thought with some satisfaction, the German. Fromm was now observing closely as a gang of men labored to move the last of the five tools onto its table. Arrogant as he may have been, Fromm was an expert technologist. Even the tables had been built to exactly the right size, with ten centimeters of extra space around each tool so that one could rest a notebook. The backup generators and UPSs were in place and tested. It was just a matter of getting the tools set up and fully calibrated, which would take about a week.
Bock and Qati were observing the whole procedure from the far end of the building, careful to keep out of the way.
“I have the beginnings of an operational plan,” Gunther said.
“You do not intend the bomb for Israel, then?” Qati asked. He was the one who would approve or disapprove the plan. He would, however, listen to his German friend. “Can you tell me of it yet?”
“Yes,” Bock did so.
