It was not like Dr. Engel Geyer to let the phone ring more than once, Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler mused as he held the receiver to his ear. He supposed, though, that their conversations hadn’t been particularly pleasant lately. No one’s were. How could they be, when everything they’d worked so hard to achieve was under attack, eroding away territory by territory.…
The scene from the Victor’s Ball had left Himmler as shocked and reeling as everyone else in the Reich. That, combined with over a dozen different uprisings all over the map, had caused him to panic. Panic had caused him to sign off on SS-Standartenführer Baasch’s release-retrap plan. One that was turning out to be fantastically unhelpful and unnecessary, as Himmler realized only after the Immelmann IV landed three passengers lighter. He didn’t need some mechanic from Frankfurt bumbling around at espionage when he had an entire detail of doppelgängers at his disposal. Well, not an entire detail now. There was the initial death in Tokyo, and another member of the Maskiertekommando had been shot trying to cross the front. Three others, on the same mission, had breached the resistance’s lines, only to go radio silent.
The silence did not bode well, nor did the news from Baasch’s snitch.
Ring, ring, went the telephone. Himmler was just about to hang up when the doctor answered, “Hello?”
Geyer’s voice sounded off, as if clogged by a head cold. Perhaps it was, but Himmler didn’t take the time to ask. This wasn’t a cordial call. “Dr. Geyer. This is the Reichsführer. I know it’s late, but I have a matter that needs your immediate attention. We’ve been informed that the resistance might attempt to access information on the Doppelgänger Project. Under no circumstances can this be allowed to happen. Alert the perimeter guards to be on the lookout for intruders. Destroy everything connected to the project. Documents. Compound samples. I want all of it gone.”
“But it’s my life’s work—”
“There is far more at stake here than your work, Dr. Geyer! Or your life!” Panic. Again. Making him snap. Himmler paused, inhaled, exhaled, until he was sure he could speak again without yelling. “Those files contain sensitive information. If it falls into the wrong hands, it could unravel everything.”
The doctor’s hesitation oozed through the phone. The Reichsführer couldn’t fault him for it. Experiment 85’s research and results were remarkable, truly the work of a lifetime. But none of it was worth what those documents could cost them.
“Who informed you of this possibility?” Everything about Geyer’s question—the wording, the nasal-drip haze in his voice, the lack of respect—grated on Himmler. All pity evaporated.
“Need I remind you, Dr. Geyer, it was your carelessness that allowed for Inmate 121358ΔX’s survival in the first place. This mess is on your head, and I am currently the only soul standing between you and the Führer’s wrath. You’d do well not to question me. Destroy all evidence of the Doppelgänger Project. Now. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes. I’ll take care of it right away.”