Projekt 1065

by Alan Gratz

  A low stone wall separated the aerial tramway station from the small plaza where we waited. That cable car was the only way out of the resort. The only way down the mountain.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told Fritz, Ottmar, and Erhard. I broke away from the line and went behind the low wall. I felt along it for a loose stone and finally found one about the right size. I would hide the plans here, in the stone wall, where they would be safe from snow and Nazi assassins and Swiss Guards, then come back for them on the way to the cable car when I was leaving.

  I had to duck not to be seen over the low wall. I unbuttoned my shirt enough to reach inside, and undid the medical tape Ma had given me to strap the plans to my skin. At last they were free, and I pulled out the thick packet of papers.

  “What are you doing?” a voice asked.

  I was so surprised I nearly jumped off the mountain. It was Fritz! He was staring down at me from the other side of the wall. I hastily stuffed the jet plans back inside my shirt and kept my hand there, bent double to hide them. Had Fritz seen me pull them out?

  “I—I still feel sick from the cable car ride,” I told Fritz. Which was truer than I wanted to admit. “I just—I came back here in case I needed to throw up. So the others wouldn’t see. Will you cover for me?”

  “Of course,” Fritz said. “Take whatever time you need.”

  Fritz disappeared, and I let out the breath I’d been holding. My heart was still racing from the scare, and my fingers fumbled the packet as I withdrew it again. I pulled the stone from the wall, worked the plans as far inside the hole as I could, and wedged the stone back into place. It stuck a few inches out from the wall, making it pretty easy to find again.

  I came back to Fritz, Ottmar, and Erhard just as they reached the Swiss Guards at the door. The Swiss wore gray uniforms with red collars signifying their rank, but where other countries would use stars, the little pips were shaped like edelweiss.

  “You’re fine to go through,” the Swiss Guard at the door said, waving us inside without checking our bags or patting us down. I couldn’t believe it. They were just going to let us through? Because we were children? It was just like Ma had told me: Women and children make terrific spies, because people always underestimate us. So this was why the Nazis sent boys to do the work of men. Did no one else have any idea what monsters the Hitler Youth were? What we were capable of? What we had been training to do since we were ten? They didn’t even take our daggers from us!

  “Wait, you’re not going to—” I started to say, but Ottmar pulled me through the door with the rest of them, and we were inside.

  Fritz murmured something to Ottmar, who nodded and sent Fritz on some assignment. I looked around for another Swiss soldier. They were all over the resort. I had to get word to one of them. Let them know what was happening. Then they could search our bags and see why the team had been sent. I headed for a blond guard in the lobby.

  Ottmar grabbed my shirt and pulled me back. “No wandering,” he said. “Let’s get to our room. It’s time to set up our ‘experiment.’ ”

  Ottmar emptied the contents of his suitcase out on one of the beds in our room. I scanned the equipment, looking for a gun, a bomb, anything, but it was only a random collection of scientific equipment, just like mine. I frowned.

  “Empty the others,” Ottmar told us.

  Erhard and I overturned the scientific suitcases onto the bed. It was a Kuddelmuddel. There was nothing dangerous or suspicious in it that I could see.

  “Find the pieces with the red dots,” Ottmar told us. He held one up to show us the little red dot painted on it.

  Fritz came back from whatever errand he’d been sent on, gave Ottmar a cryptic nod, and then the four of us sifted through the equipment until we found all the ones with red dots and separated them out. Ottmar swept all the other equipment off the bed with a theatrical clatter. With practiced skill, he quickly assembled the pieces with the red dots into one whole that fit exactly into one of the four scientific suitcases.

  “A bomb,” Fritz said.

  It was a bomb. It was obvious now. Wires, battery, a timer, and what looked like enough explosives to blow the top off the mountain. Ottmar smiled.

  “Gentlemen, I give you our science project.”

  Even if the Swiss soldiers had searched our suitcases, they would never have found the bomb. It had been split up into pieces and hidden among the random useless equipment in our four suitcases. This was why they needed four of us, and why nothing else mattered but our fervent devotion to the Führer. We were nothing but four loyal mules, our suitcases packed with death.

  Nazi Germany’s chief export.

  Ottmar snapped the latches closed on the suitcase bomb, and replaced it on the bed with one of the other empty scientific suitcases.

  “Quickly now,” he told us. “The civilian clothes from your suitcases, your papers, your money, only what you’ll need for the trip home. Pack them together in here.”

  This was part of the plan we had at least all been briefed on—our escape. Once the deed was done, we were to descend the mountain and make our way by train to the border, posing as four Swiss boys on holiday. We had fake passports and everything. The border guards would be waiting to let us back into Germany, where we would be received with a hero’s welcome. On the train from Berlin, Ottmar and Erhard had talked endlessly about what medals we would receive. The medals would be more impressive, they reasoned, if we lost an arm or a leg on our mission.

  I would have to see what I could do to help them achieve that goal, at least.

  When the other suitcase was packed, Ottmar snapped it closed and set it next to the one with the bomb.

  “Erhard and I will plant the bomb. The detonator is preset to fifteen minutes,” Ottmar told us. “Quex, you and Michael will go to the front desk and tell them you see a crack in the snowpack above the resort. The resort administrators will then sound the avalanche alarm, at which point the guests will be herded into the safety of the hotel’s basement deep inside the mountain. That is where the bomb will be set. Fifteen minutes later, the bomb will detonate and everyone inside will be killed.”

  “Everybody?” I said. “I thought we were just here to kill Professor Goldsmit.”

  Ottmar shrugged. “What do a few more dead scientists matter? None of them are German.” Ottmar checked his watch, then handed Fritz a suitcase. “You will carry the suitcase for our escape. You must hurry when you go to the front desk. Once the bomb is activated, it cannot be turned off. You must sound the alarm at precisely the same moment we turn on the timer. That will give the hotel staff just enough time to get everyone to the basement before the bomb goes off. We will meet you at the cable car and ride back down together. Synchronize watches.”

  “Wait, we’re doing this now?” I said. I panicked. I had thought I’d at least have a chance to approach a guard during the conference, let them know what the plan was.

  Ottmar picked up the suitcase with the bomb in it. “Goldsmit is already here. Quex saw him in the lobby.” So that’s what Fritz’s mission had been—find Goldsmit. “There is no reason to wait,” Ottmar said. He patted the suitcase. “We will do our job, and be well on our way home to our reward when our science project here goes off.”

  My heart was thumping so hard I was sure the other boys could hear it. My eyes flicked from the suitcase bomb to Ottmar to Erhard to Fritz. I could beat each of them in a straight fight, but not all together. Not all at once. Not here. How was I going to stop them?

  “We go now,” Ottmar said. “For Hitler!”

  “For Hitler!” the other boys cried.

  And the mission to assassinate Professor Hendrik Goldsmit began before I could stop it.

  Ottmar and Erhard ran one way down the hall, and Fritz and I ran the other. Fritz carried the suitcase with our clothes in it.

  “Fritz, we can’t do this!” I told him. “Dozens of innocent people will be killed. Hundreds!”

  “Hundreds of innocent people are k
illed all over Germany each night when the bombs fall,” Fritz said. “This is no different.”

  There was no changing his mind. No changing any of their minds.

  Fritz turned a corner. Instead of following him, I pulled up short and sprinted in the other direction, looking for a Swiss soldier. If Fritz noticed I wasn’t behind him, he wouldn’t stop. He had a schedule to keep.

  It felt like forever but was probably just a minute or two before I found a Swiss soldier. I ran up to him, out of breath, and hurriedly tried to explain. “The boys I came with—they have a bomb! They’re going to—to blow up the resort! You have to stop them!”

  It took another agonizingly long few minutes for the Swiss Guard to confer with his lieutenant, and for me to explain all over again.

  “It’s in a suitcase. Two boys have it,” I told them. “I can show you where!”

  Finally, the soldiers let me lead them down the stairs to the basement. We caught Ottmar and Erhard looking for a place to hide the suitcase among the stacked-up chairs and tables and storage crates. Ottmar still had it in his hands.

  “There. That’s it,” I told the soldiers. “The bomb’s in that suitcase.” I was exposing myself now. Letting Ottmar and Erhard know I was a traitor in their midst. But it didn’t matter. It was all going to be over soon. It was time to come clean.

  The soldiers pointed rifles at the boys, and Ottmar and Erhard held up their hands. The Swiss lieutenant took the suitcase from them, set it gently on the floor, and flipped the latches. I flinched, worried the bomb might go off before its timer. The Swiss soldier lifted the lid slowly, carefully, and we all saw what was inside—

  A messy pile of clothing.

  The bomb wasn’t in the suitcase.

  I shook my head and took a step back. But—no. I had watched Ottmar put the bomb in the suitcase. I’d seen him pick it up and take it with him! Had they doubled back and picked up one of the others? No, there wouldn’t have been time. We’d left the room together, each of our teams with a suitcase—

  Understanding hit me like an avalanche. Fritz. Fritz and I had carried the suitcase with the bomb, not Ottmar and Erhard. They’d known all along I was a traitor. They’d tricked me into revealing my hand. And now Fritz was somewhere loose in the hotel with the bomb.

  Ottmar looked innocent. “I don’t know what this is all about,” he told the soldiers. “Michael told us our rooms were in the basement, but there don’t appear to be any guest rooms down here.”

  The Swiss lieutenant frowned at me. “A joke, then. Is that what this is? A silly prank? Send your friends down here looking for their room and then drag us after them, telling us they’re carrying a bomb?”

  “A bomb?” Erhard said. He looked at me in horror. “Michael, a joke is a joke, but telling them we’re carrying a bomb—and with a war going on, no less!”

  “No,” I told the soldiers. “They’re lying. You don’t understand—”

  “We take bomb threats very seriously in this country,” the lieutenant told me. He took me by the arm. “There are penalties for making false alarms.”

  As if on cue, alarm bells rang throughout the resort. The Swiss soldiers looked up in a panic.

  “The avalanche warning!” one of them said.

  “No, wait!” I told them. “This was part of the plan! It’s a distraction!”

  The lieutenant ignored me. Avalanche alarms trumped boys who cried wolf any day. “Stay here,” he told us. “Don’t leave this room! You’re safe in this room!”

  The Swiss soldiers ran from the room, and suddenly I was alone with Ottmar and Erhard. Ottmar smiled wolfishly at me. Erhard cracked his knuckles.

  Ottmar took a step toward me, fists clenched. “You heard what the man said, Michael. Don’t leave the room. You’re safe here.”

  I ran for the door, but one of them grabbed me by the shirt and yanked me back. Ottmar? Erhard? I swung as I turned, my fist glancing off somebody’s cheekbone in the same moment one of them kicked me in the shin. Pain flared through me like a firebomb, but I couldn’t think about it. A fist found my stomach, doubling me over, a knee found my face, knocking me back. I slammed into a stack of chairs three times as tall as me, the tower of seats swaying precariously as I clung to it, trying to stay on my feet. And suddenly I was back in that school yard in London again, remembering that if you fell down, it was over.

  I wiped my dripping nose. Ottmar and Erhard grinned like hyenas and converged on me. Rage coursed through my veins. If Hitler wanted his youth to learn how to take a beating, I would give these two boys their final lesson. The same lesson I’d taught to Horst.

  No. No, I don’t have time for this. The alarm was still going off. Any minute now, people would start flooding into this room, hiding out from an avalanche that wasn’t coming. Fritz still had the suitcase bomb. He was the one I had to find, the one I had to stop.

  But Ottmar and Erhard were standing in the way.

  I grabbed the swaying stack of chairs behind me and pulled. The tower came crashing down on the boys, knocking them aside. I bolted for the door and ran for the stairs. Guests were already streaming down them. They weren’t stampeding, but they were moving quickly. Men in suits and ties, women in nice dresses. Scientists and thinkers from around the Western world. I couldn’t let these people die.

  The top of the stairs was crowded, and I was running the wrong way. A soldier tried to turn me around, but I slipped under his arms and charged ahead, running straight into a short, thin man with curly black hair and round glasses.

  “Professor Goldsmit?” I said. I recognized him from a photograph the science team had been shown. “Are you Professor Hendrik Goldsmit?”

  “I—yes,” he said, surprised to be recognized. The current of people took us back toward the stairs.

  “Professor Goldsmit! You have to come with me!” I told him. I tried to pull him away.

  “No. But the alarms—the avalanche,” he said, pulling me with him. We had each other by the arms, each tugging in the opposite direction.

  “You can’t go down there,” I told him. “Your life is in danger! A group of boys have been sent from Germany to kill you!”

  A few of the people streaming around us for the basement turned to look at us when they heard that, but they didn’t stop.

  “Kill me? But how? Why?”

  “Because of your work—” I leaned in close and lowered my voice. “Because of your work on the atomic bomb.”

  Professor Goldsmit’s eyes went wide. He pulled me out of the flow of traffic over to the wall, where we had a bit more privacy.

  “But—but—how can you know that?”

  “Because the Nazis know it!” I told him. Gah! This was taking too long! “Look at me. Look at this uniform. I was on the team sent to kill you, but I’m Irish.” I switched to speaking English. “I’m a spy for the Allies! I was sent here to save you!”

  Goldsmit let me pull him along away from the basement as he struggled to understand. “But—you’re just a boy!”

  “My father is the Irish ambassador to Germany,” I told him. “Was the Irish ambassador. We found out too late to tell anyone else. They had to send me.”

  “But this is—this is incredible!” Goldsmit stopped in an empty hallway next to a table with a vase full of edelweiss flowers. “Switzerland is neutral!”

  “Do you think the Nazis care?” I asked him.

  As if to prove my point, Ottmar jumped us from behind.

  Ottmar threw himself at Goldsmit with a roar. He drove the professor into the table, knocking him and the vase to the carpet. Ottmar raised his dagger to plunge it into Goldsmit’s heart, but I tackled him first. We tumbled head over heels, kicking and punching and scrabbling for control of his dagger. Ottmar ended up on top of me, his dagger pointed at my throat. I pushed back with one hand and groped beside me with the other. I felt the knife tip nick my throat, felt the warm trickle of blood run down the side of my neck, and then my free hand found it—the flower vase. I whipped it up i
nto the side of Ottmar’s head, shattering it. It rang with a high, hollow clang like a church bell, and Ottmar crashed into the wall, unconscious. It wasn’t a lost limb, but maybe there was a medal you could get for brain damage.

  Professor Goldsmit helped me to my feet and gave me a handkerchief to stop the bleeding on my neck. “Do you believe me now?” I asked him.

  He nodded emphatically. I grabbed his arm and pulled him along. Forget Fritz and the bomb. If I could get Goldsmit out of here, Fritz wouldn’t blow the place up. Not when Erhard told him Goldsmit wasn’t in the basement. Goldsmit was the mission. They could blow this resort to kingdom come, but they couldn’t come back to Germany if they didn’t blow up Goldsmit with it.

  “Wait!” Goldsmit said, pulling me to a stop.

  “What now?”

  “We have to find Otto Strassmann,” Goldsmit said. “He’s an Austrian physicist. He’s why I’m here. I’m supposed to recruit him for the Manhattan Project, and take him with me back to the United States!”

  I couldn’t believe this guy. “Did you not see Ottmar try to kill you just now? Who’s more important, you or this Strassmann guy?”

  Goldsmit straightened his glasses. “Well, Strassmann’s done excellent work on the thermodynamics of superconductors, but I was the one who first proposed the idea of electron spin—”

  I had no idea what he was talking about. “You win,” I told him. “You can try and recruit him another time, when somebody isn’t trying to kill you.” I grabbed Goldsmit by the sleeve and pulled him along.

  I kept my eyes peeled for Fritz as we ran for the lobby of the resort, but he wasn’t anywhere. I hauled Goldsmit out the front door and headed for the cable car.

  Goldsmit looked worriedly up at the snowcapped mountain behind the resort. “But what about the avalanche?”