The Haigerloch Project полностью

“You are being released,” he shrilled at them. “You will return to your assigned work at once! You will now form a single line and pass by the Einhaltstelle over there.” He pointed to a couple of non-coms, one with a large box at his feet, the other with a clipboard in his hands. “You will inform the Rottenführer where you work. Verstanden? — Understood?”

He did not wait for an acknowledgment. “Los!” he shouted. “Schnell! Schnell!”

Quickly the men began to file by the two non-coms.

Sig was stunned. The tightness of relief in his throat threatened to choke him. He swallowed. Hard. His eyes smarted. He was going free! He did not know how. He did not know why. He did not even want to think about it. They were letting him go!

He found himself in line with only half a dozen others in front of him. Work? Where? He suddenly grew sober. What would he tell them? It would have to be specific. He listened. He tried to hear what the men ahead of him were saying.

“… Landowski, Herr Rottenführer.”

“Arbeitsstelle?”

“Sperrzone Haigerloch, Herr Rottenführer.”

The non-com made a note on his clipboard.

“Next!”

Why not? Sperrzone Haigerloch — the restricted security zone around the reactor-cave entrance. At least he'd been there. Knew a little about the place. He'd have to play it by ear. Things were happening too fast for planning.

It was his turn.

“Name?”

“Sigmund Brandt, Herr Rottenführer.”

“Place of work?”

“Haigerloch Restricted Zone, Herr Rottenführer.”

The non-com made his note. “Next!”

Rummaging through the box in front of him, the other SS man came up with a large envelope. He threw it at Sig.

“Your belongings,” he said. He pointed to a field-gray Volkswagen parked nearby. “Go to that car. Wait!”

Sig found himself with two other men. A Pole and a Frenchman. Only these three had given the Haigerloch Restricted Zone as their place of work. They eyed one another in silence.

An SS man came over to the car.

“Get in!” he ordered.

The three men piled in.

A few minutes later Sig was on his way to Haigerloch….

Obersturmführer Rauner sat at his desk staring glumly at the order he had received late the night before. Verflucht nochmal! That truly pissed down the drain his chances of getting somewhere. He had been so sure he would be able to come up with a real hot suspect. He had marked two of the scatter-raid subjects for special interrogation this morning. He was all set. An Italian sheet-metal worker, Tittoni or something, and that Swiss technician, Brandt.

But — there it was:

Once more he read it, getting more disgusted by the minute: