A Time To Every Purpose

by Ian Andrew

  “Now one last thing before you go on your way. I also need my men to follow orders. Sometimes I value their opinion and on other occasions I expect my orders to be followed without question. Do you understand?”

  “Yes Sir.”

  Friedrichand sat on the arm of the settee, placing himself in position to yet again look down on Heinrich. “You are fully aware of the outstanding list of Gestapo priority cases that are to be observed on Thule.”

  “Yes Sir. We have the preliminary warning orders in place for the Führer’s staff visit in June. That was to be the first official use before the Joyce matter accelerated things.”

  “Good. So you are fully aware we will use the Time Observation Window to investigate various high profile crimes of the past?”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “And you are aware that the list of the so-called, top thirty, priority cases has been agreed by the Führer?”

  Heinrich nodded.

  “Did you notice anything missing from the list?”

  Heinrich hesitated as he tried to think back through the paperwork he had seen. There were murders, child disappearances, art thefts and an infamous bank heist of over seven million Reichsmark. In the end he shook his head and said, “I’m sorry Sir, but I can’t think what you’re alluding to.”

  “I was thinking of the previous Führer’s demise in an aeroplane crash.”

  Heinrich spoke before really considering his words, “But the original investigation found that it was just an unfortunate accident.”

  The Reichsführer nodded, “Yes, all true and I know you were assigned to a special investigation squad to assist with the original enquiry, so I expect you to defend that report. Remind me of what it said.”

  “The formal report found nothing of note and everything pointed to the weather conditions causing a failure of aircraft integrity. There was little physical evidence recovered as it went down over the Indian Ocean.”

  “Exactly. Nonetheless Heinrich, indulge me. If your parents had been lost in what was an unexplained crash, would you not have thought to use our new project to go back?”

  Heinrich froze. He couldn’t believe what the Reichsführer was suggesting. It was almost exactly what he had proposed to Leigh about using it to see her parents.

  Friedrichand had continued to talk, “...I was expecting it to be the number one case that the Reich Cabinet wanted to be observed by Thule. I thought it would have greatly pleased our Führer. Instead, the Cabinet issued the list they did. No mention of using a Thule Projection to go back to make sure the Führer’s parents’ accident was simply that.”

  “But it does make a semblance of sense, Sir. Any Projection will be restricted to the ground environment before takeoff. As you said, the apparatus is limited. It can’t track a moving car so it isn’t going to track an aircraft,” Heinrich said.

  “I know and so does the Führer and so does the Cabinet. We have all seen the project limitations. But, if it were me, I would still have asked to investigate the hanger and maintenance procedures in the hours before take-off. I find it,” he paused as if considering the most appropriate word, “intriguing.” The Reichsführer once more considered Heinrich from under hooded eyes.

  Heinrich knew this wasn’t finished and so he waited.

  “You do not like loose ends Heinrich. I do not like intrigue. So, I would like us to have a small look at a small intrigue. The previous Führer, whom you saved, is in no small way the reason you are sat here. He is, in absolute ways, the reason I am here. I think it is beholden on us to at least see if there was something suspicious.”

  Friedrichand leant his head back slightly and considered Heinrich for a long time before he spoke again. Heinrich tried, but this time failed, to hold his gaze. Instead he reached out and took hold of his coffee cup.

  “The removal of Lippisch will work to our advantage. Find an opportunity to work with Doctor Wilson. She obviously has the ability to initiate and run a Projection and I think that with her pedigree as Donald’s daughter she will, on your advice, assist us. I want you to examine the pre-flight environment. I know you are not an aircraft engineer but Wilson is a scientist and you are an excellent investigator. Between the two of you, you will be able to intuit if anything is amiss. If it is then I will get you an appropriate technical source from Warton. In the meantime we need to keep the circle of knowledge small and confined.”

  Heinrich suddenly realised what had been meant by the last remark. He spoke slowly and deliberately, “You don’t want anyone else to be aware of this Projection? Not even the Führer?”

  “We should realise that the Führer is like a very good lawyer. He only asks questions if he both knows and wants the answers to them. In this case I do not think he wanted the question asked on his behalf.”

  It was a simple statement by the Reichsführer-SS, but one with huge consequences. The dipping sun cast an ethereal glow across the office and when the Reichsführer steepled his long fingers Heinrich watched their shadow seep across the settee, edging towards him like a black stain.

  Heinrich sat still as he thought of the months that had followed the air crash. On the Twenty-seventh of February 2015, Martin Hitler, the third Führer of the Reich, and his wife Heidrun Goebbels-Hitler were killed in an aircraft crash returning from an official visit to the Japanese city of Perth. Joseph Hitler, at the age of forty-one had become Führer designate and immediately consolidated his transition to power. He ordered a widespread purge on his rivals within the Party, a renewed and frenzied wave of terror against Turners and a round-up of anyone else he was wary of. The Armed Forces command structure was badly hit and a lot of good men and woman fell to the regime. It was a brutal time, even for the Reich.

  After a short pause Heinrich looked up, “You think he carried out a coup and then cleaned up the 'loose ends' during the purges?”

  “Well it was always a possibility Heinrich. Even if we discover what I suspect we will, then we will not be able to use the information publically. But I think it will have a value for us.” As Friedrichand said this he gently patted the insignia he wore at the bottom of his left sleeve. The wristcuff ‘Adolf Hitler’ surmounted by the Dietrich. It was worn in perpetuity by any former member of the Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler. “Do you not agree?”

  Heinrich looked down at the same wristcuff he also wore. He recalled the unit’s motto called out at the end of every parade, ‘Meine Ehre heißt Treue’. He said clearly, “Without question Sir.”

  Through a smile the Reichsführer said, “Indeed Heinrich, very good indeed. Obviously we shall not document this. Verbal reports to me only. You will have my jet at your disposal. I expect a brief by the end of next week.”

  Heinrich nodded, “Sir.” And as he said it he realised why he had enjoyed such a rapid journey to Berlin. It wasn’t about the speed of the transit, it was about the exclusivity. No one would have even a verbal record of this meeting outside of the Reichsführer’s immediate and personal staff. The aircrew, the drivers even the stewards were all SS and all handpicked. There would be no logs, no travel authorisations, no transcripts, no knowledge outside the two of them.

  Heinrich took a sip of his coffee and was puzzled. He wondered at how or why this was being shared with him. He assumed it was the post he held but he hadn't asked for the post. It just came up. Would the Reichsführer have trusted anyone in the position?

  “You look slightly confused Heinrich. Are my orders not clear?” The Reichsführer stood and looked down at him.

  “Not that Sir. I just,” he stopped not sure how to phrase it. He took a breath, “I'm humbled by your trust in me. But why me?”

  Friedrichand retook the seat opposite Heinrich and actually laughed. “I once asked the same question.”

  “Sir?” Heinrich was even more perplexed.

  “Oh some years ago a man that I trusted insisted to me that he had met a young officer whom he thought had a certain something. Now, how did he put it?... Ah yes, he actually quoted Von
Braun out of context and said this young fellow had the ‘Right Stuff’. He went on to say that we should keep an eye on him. Observe him. Not give him an easy path but just afford him some opportunities. If he took them then all well and good. If not, then we would only have expended a little time and effort for no real loss. I remember asking him why. Why him? What had made him think this lad was a prospect? He said simply that he had been impressed with him. He could have left it and done nothing about it but he sensed it would always be gnawing away at him. He might always be wondering if he had missed grooming a future leader. He said it reminded him of a thread hanging down waiting to be pulled and he did not like loose ends. Do you have any idea what I am speaking of Heinrich?”

  “No, not really Sir.”

  “The advisor was Donald Wilson. The young man he met was you. It would seem you share Donald’s aversion to loose ends.”

  Heinrich knew he looked slightly shocked. He couldn’t hide it. “I, um, I didn’t know that Sir. I mean, I didn’t know that Donald and you had observed me. Was this since my, eh, medical discharge, umm, after the assassination attempt?” Heinrich stumbled over his words.

  “No, no, no. Much earlier. You were still a cadet at Bad Tölz.”

  Heinrich really couldn’t hide his shocked expression this time.

  “I know. It is quite strange how things turned out. Donald and I always had it in mind that you would be a Waffen-SS leader. But after your medical downgrading we could not see you lost to us for good. In some ways Heinrich I am very pleased and reassured that you and I both knew Donald as a friend. So, that is that.”

  The Reichsführer stood, “Well Heinrich, it has been a pleasure seeing you. Enjoy your time in Berlin, enjoy the dusty Archives and of course, enjoy the trip home.” He waved a hand in the direction of the outer offices, “Ask my staff to make the arrangements, accommodation, driver, whatever you need. But Heinrich, no more than tomorrow for your loose ends. I want you heading back to London by tomorrow night. Take care of the Lippisch arrest personally on Thursday. Yes?”

  “Yes Sir, thank you.” Heinrich stood but hesitated in giving the salute that was required. His heart was thumping in his chest and his mouth felt dry but he knew he had to ask. He also knew the man in front of him was a careful, calculating political animal and that he must have thought of a way around the problem. He calmed his mind and said a silent prayer to the God that he loved and spoke as casually as he could manage.

  “Sir, all Projections have to be officially unlocked with the Berlin counter-authority code. The documentary chain is quite precise and the timelogs are exact. That will complicate the running of a secret observation.”

  Reichsführer-SS Jason Friedrichand returned to his seat behind his desk. “No complication Heinrich. When I had the security protocols designed I kept a back door open. Just in case. Ask Doctor Wilson to enter 636848 at the appropriate time. It will remotely switch the Berlin link off and no one will be any the wiser. After all, we are the Reich’s guardians and on occasion we need to have a little,” he paused and seemed to savour the word, “discretion.”

  Heinrich straightened to attention. He delivered a perfect salute as befitting a previous bodyguard to the Führer. Friedrichand merely nodded in response.

  As Heinrich reached the door leading to the outer offices the Reichsführer spoke again, “What was the quote?”

  Heinrich turned, “Sir?”

  “The quote by Reid, what was it?”

  Heinrich held the man’s gaze as he said, “My glittering sword and mine hand take hold on judgment; I will render vengeance to mine enemies, and will reward them that hate me.”

  The Reichsführer snorted in appreciation, “Sounds like something I would write. Goodnight Heinrich.”

  ***

  “Leigh?”

  “Heinrich?” her voice was laced with sleep but she was rapidly coming awake.

  “Did I wake you?”

  “Yes, but it’s ok. What is it?”

  “I just wanted to let you know that Reichsführer-SS Friedrichand asked me to pass his regards on to you and your team for a job well done.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes really. I’m sorry for ringing so late but I thought that was news that couldn’t wait for my return. It’s not often that you get compliments like that. Well done Leigh.”

  “Thanks Heinrich. I’ll let the team know tomorrow morning. Where are you?” she asked as unobtrusively as she could.

  “At the old 1st Division’s Mess. Just about to get my head down.”

  “Ok, well you get some sleep, you must be shattered. I’ll see you back in London. And Heinrich, thanks for ringing and letting me know. It means a lot.” The call disconnected.

  In two separate SigInt analysis centres in two separate cities operators finished logging the call details. Almost simultaneously, but entirely independent of each other, they punched a key marking it as Routine Traffic, ‘No Further Analysis Required’. In fourteen days, with no follow up enquiries the call would be erased off the servers.

  In London, Leigh rolled over and fell asleep sure in the knowledge he was safe.

  In Berlin, Heinrich lay awake for some time trying to process the possibilities that had opened up and dreading how he was going to tell Leigh about Konrad Lippisch. He also reflected on the news that he had been observed since Bad Tölz. He could see in surprising clarity that he had been part of a very long game played out by Donald Wilson. A game that predated Heinrich’s conversion to Turnerism by years and was only a continuance of Donald’s father’s idea for the long term infiltration of the regime.

  He felt strangely satisfied and pleased at the audaciousness of Donald and the success of his plan, yet, he knew that he should also be feeling resentment. There was a good possibility that he had been manipulated. What if Donald’s friendship had just been a tactic? The thought was so naked and profound that it almost numbed him. He sat up and replayed his memories of the years, made fresh by his recounting of them to Leigh on Sunday night.

  Before too long he had confidently dismissed the idea of manipulation and couldn’t feel anything but gratitude. Donald Wilson may have started out by trying to target him but in the end Donald and Rosalyn had become his true friends. They had given Heinrich the gift of belief. His life since, and because of, being a Turner was worth anything they may have done initially. Heinrich finally fell asleep pleasantly considering the irony that the Reichsführer’s most trusted advisor and now his handpicked confidant were Turners. ‘God sends the people you need at the time you need them,’ he thought. Even the Reichsführer of the SS wasn’t immune.

  Chapter 37

  06:00 Wednesday 20th May 2020 - Berlin

  Heinrich’s alarm buzzed and he silenced it before it had managed to utter its second note. He lay on his back looking up at the ceiling’s moulded plasterwork and contemplated his plan for the day. For ten minutes he walked his mind through the next ten hours. He rehearsed the conversations he would have and the procedures he would navigate. Eventually he rose and once ready made his way to the dining room for breakfast.

  His walk along the corridors of the Lichterfelde Barracks was tracked by thousands of faces looking out from hundreds of graduation parades, sports teams and Führer’s Selection photographs that hung from every available wall space. The home of the Führer’s bodyguard liked to honour their alumni. They also liked to acknowledge the historic leaders of the Reich and at intervals along the corridors and walkways were large, golden-framed portraits in oils of the men who were the founding fathers of the regime. However, in one place on the main corridor, leading from the western accommodation wing to the main reception rooms and dining facilities, there was a gap in the even, almost rhythmic, parade of paintings.

  Heinrich, like all 1st alumni, knew the reason. The portrait of Deputy Führer Rudolf Heß had been removed in August 1949, just a week after his suicide by hanging. It probably wouldn’t have happened had the suicide not become public knowledge and
therefore a public disgrace to the Reich but, it had and so the spot remained vacant as a warning. The apocryphal story was that a committee had been convened to consider which portrait should be put up in its place but the committee chairman had said no one should be hung there as the last man to occupy the spot had done quite enough hanging. He also decreed that each officer or officer cadet should, on passing, make an appropriate gesture to admonish the memory. It always drew a smirk in the telling and like all good stories was probably not true. Nevertheless, as Heinrich passed the empty wall he reached up and slipped two fingers inside his collar and eased the material from his neck whilst nodding in mock salute. Traditions took all forms.

  As was the case of the slightly larger than life-sized brass bust of Goring that sat on its plinth to the right hand side of the dining room entrance. Touched on the nose by every diner that passed by since the mid-1950s, the bust now gleamed from the bridge to the nostrils. Erected in memory of the then Deputy Führer a year after his death it was felt to be a fitting memorial piece to a larger than life figure. The officers of the 1st thought that patting him on the nose was a more fitting memorial for a man who had died from an accidental overdose of cocaine whilst in the company of prostitutes. Had it been a full length statute they would no doubt have patted another spot as well.

  At least the third holder of the Deputy Führer’s office, Martin Bormann, had managed to die a more dignified death of old age in his own bed. That and the fact he had succeeded to be acting-Führer on the death of Adolf Hitler meant that his memorials were much more grandiose and much more public. Heinrich assumed no one ever yawned up at the Bormann statue that stood in the Avenue of the Führers. However, traditions were habits long in the making and so Heinrich, almost unconsciously, patted Goring’s nose and entered the grandiose and spectacularly decorated dining room.

  At the far end of the carefully laid out tables was a 3-metre high statue of the Nazi Party Eagle but with the Swastika grasped in its left claw and a skeleton key clasped in its right. He was overcome with an emotion he had grown to expect but not fully understand since his Turner conversion. It was the strange mix of revulsion at the regime and pleasure at still belonging to the enveloping styles, traditions and surroundings of the Establishment. He knew that he had been quietly grateful and a little proud that the 1st Division Mess always kept a room or two available for any of their own that were last minute visitors to Berlin. He hadn’t stayed here for some years but the barracks had lost none of their grandeur and it pleased him. From the sentinels flanking the main road entrance through to the gold plated taps within the bathrooms Heinrich had always admired its ability to project an air of supremacy. Even the carpets were deep and luxurious in comparison to any other Officers’ Mess in the Reich. Visitors to the 1st Division were never left in any doubt that their hosts considered themselves 1st by right as well as name.