Claire addressed the captain, “How long is it going to take to shore up the roof once the aircraft are out?”
Heinrich joined the conversation. “We should move the two aircraft tomorrow, hopefully it shouldn’t take more than a couple of days. I will get the jacks and trolleys sent up overnight from the museum.”
The captain continued, “Once the aircraft are out my team can shore up the tunnel and enlarge the hole, shouldn’t take more than a day then you can go in.”
“I think it’s beer time, how about you?” Tom asked Heinrich who gathered up his papers and followed Tom and Claire out of the command truck.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A Brace of Swallows
By 8 am the following morning the factory site was bustling with renewed activity. Claire was following a slow-moving tracked mini-digger which was slowly climbing the hillside. With her were two soldiers carrying armfuls of survey flags, measuring tapes and a variety of other survey equipment. Claire carried the cameras and a laser sight. Their task was to uncover the ‘lid’ of the hangar and to mark out the line of the original runway start, if they could find it.
Tom and Heinrich were both beavering away around Tom’s Messerschmitt with a small crew who had positioned the huge jacks under the hard points on the aircraft and were now preparing to pump them up to raise the aircraft. Tom watched as the flat tyres finally left the ground.
“That’s enough,” Tom shouted to the men operating the jacks, “You can’t go any higher as the wingtips will foul the cutouts in the tunnel side.”
Tom crouched under the port wing and grabbed hold of the main wheel. With a bit of pushing and shoving the wheel spun reluctantly on its axle.
“The tyres are totally perished and the wheel hub and bearings are obviously corroded, we must put the aircraft on the little trolleys and roll it out on them.”
A small square steel trolley with industrial castoring wheels was then slid under each of the three aircraft wheels and the aircraft gently lowered back down. On instructions from Tom they then all carefully checked the intended path of the aircraft across the floor for any bits of debris or holes which could cause problems for the small trolley wheels. Tom saw that a couple of areas of the floor had been circled in white chalk but he was fairly certain they could avoid them. They then drove another small tracked mini-digger up close to the nose of the aircraft. Ropes were attached to it from each of the main wheels and another rope was attached to the nosewheel which Tom then held tightly in both hands.
“Heinrich, can you keep a close eye on the nosewheel, it’s a known weak point on these aircraft, and if anything doesn’t look right shout out?”
“The rest of you, could you get behind each engine and gently push and help guide it out and make sure the wingtips don’t hit the side of the tunnel?”
The mini digger driver started up and started backing towards the hangar door. The slack in the rope was taken up and the Messerschmitt almost imperceptibly at first, headed for the huge hangar doorway for quite probably the first time in its existence.
Almost an hour later, during which they’d stopped several times and manually repositioned the aircraft to avoid hitting something or to avoid a trolley wheel dropping into a hole in the floor, the Messerschmitt was resplendent in the centre of the hangar only a few metres from the outside World. They had positioned, whilst this operation had been going on, a large wooden cradle just outside the hangar door under a huge temporary gazebo type shelter. Alongside this was a flatbed truck with hiab crane surrounded by a whole team of people wearing overalls emblazoned with the logo of Heinrich’s museum. They towed the Messerschmitt under the shelter and the team of engineers set about dis-assembling it. Tom watched on fascinated as the engineers rapidly removed the engine cowlings and disconnected pipes and cables. Another team were working under the wing removing access panels, undoing cables, wiring and pipework and another man was head down in the cockpit with his feet rather comically poking out over the top of the seat. Leaving them temporarily, Tom returned down the tunnel followed by the mini digger to where Heinrich was now preparing his aircraft for a similar move.
“This one should be slightly easier, it must weigh a lot less without its engines installed.” Tom said to Heinrich as he reached the aircraft. “What would you like me to do?”
“If you can arrange the jacks and the ropes that would be helpful.”
Tom had just finished when the mini digger and the rest of the team and arrived.
“We have to wait for them to move the first aircraft off the trolleys and onto its cradle before we can move this one.” One engineer told them. Tom and Heinrich walked away down the tunnel to the outside where the engineers were working. The port engine was now on the purpose-built trolley they had found in the tunnel and there was a growing pile of bubble-wrapped panels and components alongside the truck. The hiab crane jib had been positioned over the fuselage and they had placed two webbing slings around the fuselage.
“Mr Stroud, we should have the other engine off in about an hour and the fuselage should be ready to be lifted off the wing maybe a couple of hours later.”
As Tom watched this feverish activity, two of the men grasped the starboard undercarriage leg and gently pushed it upwards back into it’s retracted position in the wing. More fiddling about through one of the access panels and one of the men declared it locked. He reflected on how many years he’d already spent on the restoration of his Focke Wulf and turning to Heinrich said rather facetiously, “I don’t suppose you could lend me this team for a few months could you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an efficient and professional team?”
“They are experts at doing this kind of job and they’ve all studied the construction of the Me-262.”
“Heinrich, I think it might be a good idea for us to plan to just complete the disassembly and packing of my 262 today. It looks as if it will take most of the rest of today anyway to finish off and there’s no point rushing. We really should plan to leave yours until tomorrow when we can hopefully do the whole job in a single day, what do you think?”
“I agree. The second aircraft is ready to be lifted onto the trolleys and we have checked the route out. If they can finish dis-assembling your aircraft, the truck can move it to a storage warehouse the museum has borrowed in Linz. The disassembly area will then be clear for the museum’s aircraft.”
Heinrich wandered off back down the tunnel towards his Messerschmitt whilst Tom just stood and stared in amazement at his latest project. Claire tapped him on the shoulder interrupting his reverie.
“You need to come and see this, we’ve completely uncovered the concrete slab.”
“So what is it then, is it the roof of the hangar?”
“Just come and see.”
Tom reluctantly left and followed Claire back up the hillside to where they’d found the concrete slab. It now looked somewhat different. They had cleared pretty much all the foliage and the shallow topsoil, not only from the concrete slab but also from a large area to the West. There was a huge pile of excavated debris pushed to the North side and they’d bought up a jet washer vehicle with which they’d cleaned the whole area. Tom looked at the exposed, light-coloured concrete slab they had now revealed as four identical slabs forming a square, much as they’d guessed.
“It’s 16 metres square, each slab being 16 metres by just under 4 metres. But come and have a look at this.” Claire walked across the first slab to where it joined the next one and pointed down. Where the slabs joined there was what looked like a thick rubber seal maybe 20cms wide running the whole length of the slab.
“Each join has the same thing, but look over here where the rubber has disintegrated.”
Claire walked over to an area between the third and fourth slab where the rubber was missing. There was what could only be a massive hinge which appeared to run the whole length of the join.
“Can we clear some rubber from each of the joints to see if they’re the same?”
“We already have. The join between the first and second is the same but the one between the second and the third doesn’t have a hinge, it’s just a small gap. We ran the endoscope camera down it and guess what, it appears right on top of the Arado sitting in the lift. I’ll show you the video we took which shows that this concrete is only about 10cms. thick. Underneath it is what looks like a steel tray and some serious looking metal supporting structure. I’m pretty certain these are bi-folding hatches although how they would have operated is anyone’s guess.”
“I need to get underneath to look at the mechanism. I guess this means that the option to seal this lot up is probably not a viable one now, thank goodness.”
Tom walked with Claire back down to the command truck where she reported her findings and they looked at the video. Reluctantly the men from the Ministry agreed that they should proceed based on getting Tom into the hangar to evaluate the situation before doing anything further.
“Well, there’s not much more we can do here today, shall we go back to the hotel and get cleaned up?” Claire asked.
“I can’t leave until I know my plane is all packed up and safely away. You go and I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
They both walked out to check on progress. The Messerschmitt was now bereft of engine pods, the wheels had all been retracted and, on closer inspection, the fuselage appeared to be hovering a good half a metre above the wing. The museum engineers spokesman spotted Tom and walked over.
“We shall have the fuselage on the cradle very shortly and then it can be lifted onto the truck. The engines have been shrink-wrapped on their cradles and are already loaded. We have constructed a simple frame to hold the wing safely on its leading edge for transport, it just needs to be lifted on and strapped down. I would guess that we should be finished and tidied up in about 2 hours.”
“I have to say that I have never seen a more efficient dismantling done with such care. I can’t thank you all enough for your hard work. Unfortunately you're going to have to do it all again tomorrow.”
“That’s fine, that’s why we volunteered, we love doing this kind of thing.”
“What, you’re all volunteers? Are you not employed by the museum?”
“No Mr Stroud, I’m actually an Airbus Production Engineering Manager in my day job, the others are all also taking holidays from similar professional aviation jobs. We do this for a hobby.”
Tom was flabbergasted, but it certainly explained their professionalism. He continued to watch the team for the following hour and a half as they mounted the fuselage on the cradle, lifted it onto the truck and tied it down closely followed by the wing and an assortment of beautifully wrapped components. With tarpaulins covering the whole collection, Tom watched the truck depart. As he turned away, he saw a large flatbed truck enter the compound carrying what looked like a massive square steel box adorned with the familiar signs warning of danger from radioactive material. “Well at least they are obviously making contingency arrangements for removing whatever might be in that hangar.” Tom thought as he walked back to the command truck to order a cab.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Watchers
Pietr Voloshin was driving slowly back from Mauthausen to their rented house in Linz, his shift over. He, and his team, had found a vantage point on the hillside to the South of the Messerschmitt factory and had set up a camouflaged ‘hide’ from which to keep the factory excavations under constant watch. As he drove along the North side of the Danube back to their rented house, his phone rang from the depths of his jacket pocket. Cursing as he tried to extract it whilst negotiating the traffic, he finally hit the answer button and hold it up to his ear.
“A white truck with a large steel container on the back and radiation warning signs all over has just arrived at the site.”
“Keep a careful watch on everything, I’m coming back to join you.”
Pietr disconnected the call and dialled the number for Gennady who was at the house.
“You need to join us at the hide, something is going on at the factory. Bring the equipment with you and take the Southern route so you don’t pass the factory compound.”
Having negotiated a ‘U’ turn and set himself on route back to Mauthausen, Pietr then dialled the number for Lukas Bieler, their man from the Ministry.
“What is the situation in the factory, has anything been found yet?”
Lukas paused obviously considering his response, “The radiation level appears to be high in a particular small area that we cannot access yet. We have not ascertained its exact source so far. An engineer will go in to investigate the situation later, I will pass on his findings once his report is complete.”
“A radiation containment vehicle arrived a little while ago which would suggest that they are expecting to remove something rather than seal it in place, is this your understanding of the situation?”
“It is. We will have more details later with luck.”
“I will call you in 2 hours, if there is any significant progress before that call me immediately.”
Pietr closed the connection and immediately dialled the Moscow number to update his employer. The conversation was brief, and it left Pietr in no doubt exactly what Vassili Urosov expected. He was to secure, make that steal thought Pietr with a wry smile, whatever comes out of the factory and goes into that steel hazardous materials container. He was also to keep a very close watch on Tom Stroud and, if the opportunity arose, engineer an unfortunate accident befalling him.
Pietr arrived moments later, parked the car and scrambled down the hill to their camouflaged observation hide.
Vasilli Urosov hung up on Pietr and sank back into the plush leather chair in his home office. He stared at the large flat-screen monitor on the wall opposite his desk which was displaying a confusion of constantly changing figures and graphs with a rolling RSS feed along the bottom displaying the current share prices of many of the corporations that he owned. The phone on the desk rang, Vassili picked it up and waited for the customary series of clicks as the automatic software routed it from its carefully concealed original location.
“Im’sh Allah”
“Good day to you Your Highness.”
The well-educated voice continued in Mid-Atlantic English.
“Whilst it is customary and polite in my country to discuss trivial matters for a time before the serious issues of business, time is now of the essence and we cannot afford the luxury of such formalities. I need to know when I can expect to receive the shipment. My facility has almost completed the delivery system and we now need the material at the enrichment plant to establish how much further refinement will be necessary. So, Mr Urosov, when will you be able to deliver?”
Vassili contemplated his response.
“I believe we are now very close to taking possession of your shipment. It may be possible to furnish you with details of the exact amount available, and its level of enrichment prior to shipment if that would assist.”
“Mr Urosov, we have paid you a sizable deposit for this shipment based on certain criteria which have to be met. You are fully aware, I believe, of the minimum quantity and level of enrichment we would accept of U-235. We have also provided you with a list of our ships and where and when they will be in various ports to accept this cargo. The balance of the purchase price is currently sitting in our joint account in Switzerland which you can verify and will be released on the bank’s receipt of our joint instructions. I have fully complied with our contract terms, I suggest you now honour yours.”
The call disconnected leaving Vassili Urosov somewhat less comfortable than before he’d picked up the receiver. His buyer enjoyed not only the trappings of royalty in his home country but an almost immeasurable fortune generated from oil and gas revenues and the total exploitation of his subjects. Vassili was extremely wealthy by anyone's standards but the Prince’s wealth, and the resources it could purchase, totally dwarfed Vassili’s net worth. What that meant in real terms was t
hat, if Vassili failed to deliver as per their contract, he could expect a great deal of discomfort and probably a very foreshortened existence irrespective of how much he spent on personal security. Vassili had made the sale to the Prince based on his ability to supply material liberated from the stocks held at the Russian naval base in Murmansk. Unfortunately for him the ‘biznissmen’ who he’d contracted with for this supply had met a premature end as a result of a spectacularly public gunfight. This had finally galvanised the authorities into belatedly moving the nuclear stockpile to a more secure facility outside of Moscow and out of harm’s way and Vassili’s reach. On the brink of having to come clean with the Prince and refund his deposit, Vassili had watched the news item about the discovery at Mauthausen and set his researchers to work on establishing what could be hidden here. When they reported that it was eminently probable that substantial stocks of U-235 had been produced by the Nazis who were desperate to provide Hitler with the ultimate ‘Terror Weapon’ he demanded. Vassili couldn’t believe his good fortune. Relieving a bunch of scientists and historians of the unearthed nuclear material really should not prove unduly troublesome. Tom Stroud's appearance with that policewoman of his, Owens, had initially introduced an element of concern until Vassili had thought the whole thing through. What an opportunity for revenge for their meddling into his failed project to acquire the Templar documents and the damage they’d subsequently inflicted on his reputation to say nothing of his bank balance.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Missing in the Mountains
Back at the hotel Tom joined Claire who had ensconced herself in the lounge bar with the contents of the briefcase Tom had liberated from the factory spread across a table in front of her. The scant remains of a large gin and tonic held in her left hand which Tom deduced, from the multiple pieces of lemon in the glass, that this hadn’t been her first.
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