clear, secretly of course, that he has no allegiance to them. Friends claim he hates the Reich,
but cannot leave. He certainly does not suffer from self-doubt when it comes to his intellect – probably with good reason.’
‘This stinks, sir. I’m sorry, but can we really trust these guys? A couple of Krauts. And one of them is still in Germany!’
Major Oakland couldn’t help laughing. ‘You’re talking about two of the most respected scientists in the world, Captain. And, strictly speaking, Einstein is not German,
he’s a Swiss citizen.’
‘Still Krauts.’
‘All right, you’re entitled to your opinion, but the simple fact is we’ve been told we have to make this work. Our job is to ensure the whole thing runs smoothly, no leaks, no
betrayals. I know a fortune is being pumped into Project Cover Up. I’m not privy to details of course, but it’s clearly pretty hot. We all know war is coming, Hugh. We might not like
it, but that won’t stop it happening.’
‘So what do we do?’ Gaynor asked, grinding his cigarette into the metal grille of the ashtray.
‘We make sure there’s a tight lid on anything Kessler is exposed to. Can’t let him have anything we unearth this end. It’s gotta be a one-way street. Get Kessler to send
Einstein the material, but he must not send anything back. We can’t even let Kessler know if tests start to work or not.’
‘OK, but how do we get anything out of Kessler without the Nazis learning about it?’ asked Oakland.
‘That’s the big question. The two of them were talking about codes. If anyone can create an unbreakable code it would be those two, but how do we get it over here without risking it
falling into German hands?’
Oakland looked out at the flat almost featureless landscape as rain started to hit the glass. ‘Just have to hope one of the high-ups who so desperately want this project to succeed comes
up with a foolproof way to get Kessler’s work here, or else the whole scheme is dead in the water.’
9
London. Present day.
It was off-peak, a rainy spring Thursday when the three of them stepped into the capsule of the London Eye and ensured no one else would occupy the same space. Two men and a
woman. The woman was Glena Buckingham, the older of the two men was Hans Secker. The younger man, bespectacled and bearded in a rather fusty tweed jacket, was known to the other two under a false
name, Herman Toit. All they knew about him was that he was South African, purportedly thirty-four years old and an ex-mercenary who had worked in Angola and Eritrea. A trained killer, Toit had
secretly served Eurenergy for close to fifteen months and was the replacement for a man called Sterling Van Lee, who had headed up Eurenergy Security before him.
Glena seated herself facing east towards Docklands as the vista of London began to spread out before them. Toit settled into one of the row of seats across the capsule opposite her, though
Secker remained standing.
Buckingham had made an effort to merge into the background by opting for jeans and a plain cotton jacket. Large sunglasses covered about twenty per cent of her face. Secker was dressed in his
usual exquisitely tailored, slightly old-fashioned suit and Windsor-knotted spotted tie. He could have easily passed as a banker or City broker.
‘So what is your news, Herman?’ Buckingham asked.
Toit didn’t look at the woman for a long moment. Instead, he contemplated the clear horizon: Kingston, Richmond, Teddington.
‘It could be very important, or it could be nothing of great value.’ He had retained a faint Afrikaans accent. ‘I have received intel from a reliable source that MI6 has
acquired reports that may shed some light upon a strange experiment conducted during the 1930s.’
‘Sounds like the sort of shit Internet conspiracy theorists get into a foam about,’ Secker replied.
‘What sort of experiment?’ Buckingham cut in.
‘The cranks refer to it incorrectly as the
but cannot leave. He certainly does not suffer from self-doubt when it comes to his intellect – probably with good reason.’
‘This stinks, sir. I’m sorry, but can we really trust these guys? A couple of Krauts. And one of them is still in Germany!’
Major Oakland couldn’t help laughing. ‘You’re talking about two of the most respected scientists in the world, Captain. And, strictly speaking, Einstein is not German,
he’s a Swiss citizen.’
‘Still Krauts.’
‘All right, you’re entitled to your opinion, but the simple fact is we’ve been told we have to make this work. Our job is to ensure the whole thing runs smoothly, no leaks, no
betrayals. I know a fortune is being pumped into Project Cover Up. I’m not privy to details of course, but it’s clearly pretty hot. We all know war is coming, Hugh. We might not like
it, but that won’t stop it happening.’
‘So what do we do?’ Gaynor asked, grinding his cigarette into the metal grille of the ashtray.
‘We make sure there’s a tight lid on anything Kessler is exposed to. Can’t let him have anything we unearth this end. It’s gotta be a one-way street. Get Kessler to send
Einstein the material, but he must not send anything back. We can’t even let Kessler know if tests start to work or not.’
‘OK, but how do we get anything out of Kessler without the Nazis learning about it?’ asked Oakland.
‘That’s the big question. The two of them were talking about codes. If anyone can create an unbreakable code it would be those two, but how do we get it over here without risking it
falling into German hands?’
Oakland looked out at the flat almost featureless landscape as rain started to hit the glass. ‘Just have to hope one of the high-ups who so desperately want this project to succeed comes
up with a foolproof way to get Kessler’s work here, or else the whole scheme is dead in the water.’
9
London. Present day.
It was off-peak, a rainy spring Thursday when the three of them stepped into the capsule of the London Eye and ensured no one else would occupy the same space. Two men and a
woman. The woman was Glena Buckingham, the older of the two men was Hans Secker. The younger man, bespectacled and bearded in a rather fusty tweed jacket, was known to the other two under a false
name, Herman Toit. All they knew about him was that he was South African, purportedly thirty-four years old and an ex-mercenary who had worked in Angola and Eritrea. A trained killer, Toit had
secretly served Eurenergy for close to fifteen months and was the replacement for a man called Sterling Van Lee, who had headed up Eurenergy Security before him.
Glena seated herself facing east towards Docklands as the vista of London began to spread out before them. Toit settled into one of the row of seats across the capsule opposite her, though
Secker remained standing.
Buckingham had made an effort to merge into the background by opting for jeans and a plain cotton jacket. Large sunglasses covered about twenty per cent of her face. Secker was dressed in his
usual exquisitely tailored, slightly old-fashioned suit and Windsor-knotted spotted tie. He could have easily passed as a banker or City broker.
‘So what is your news, Herman?’ Buckingham asked.
Toit didn’t look at the woman for a long moment. Instead, he contemplated the clear horizon: Kingston, Richmond, Teddington.
‘It could be very important, or it could be nothing of great value.’ He had retained a faint Afrikaans accent. ‘I have received intel from a reliable source that MI6 has
acquired reports that may shed some light upon a strange experiment conducted during the 1930s.’
‘Sounds like the sort of shit Internet conspiracy theorists get into a foam about,’ Secker replied.
‘What sort of experiment?’ Buckingham cut in.
‘The cranks refer to it incorrectly as the
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