She looked intently at his blue eyes, trying to find what she had missed, but saw only a luminous intelligence, beyond rancour or warmth.

'If you're so concerned with rocket technology,' she said, 'why not stay with G.o.ddard?'

'Because this country always betrays its greatest scientists and will soon betray G.o.ddard.'

'Does that mean you're going abroad?'

'Yes.'

'Where to?'

Wilson smiled. 'To where my own work will be appreciated.'

'And where's that?'

'I can't tell you.'

'I'm a journalist. I can find out.'

'It won't help you.'

'I can also find out just who you are.'

'That won't help you either. Now I've got to be going.'

He picked up his suitcase, gazed down at her, smiled thinly, then walked out, not even kissing her goodbye. She had pride, but her heart betrayed her, so she jumped out of G.o.ddard's chair, then hurried to the doorway of the machine shop and looked into the morning sun.

Wilson climbed into his battered Ford, turned on the ignition, waved at her as if he were just going for a short trip, then drove in the direction of the town of Roswell, with its pioneer trails and stillburning legends, to disappear into his unknown future and leave her all alone again.

'G.o.d d.a.m.n you!' she whispered.

CHAPTER TWO Ernst Stoll's heart was racing with antic.i.p.ation when he saw his girlfriend, Ingrid, already seated at a table by a window in the Kranzier Cafe, Berlin. Feeling resplendent in his new SS uniform, almost like a film star, he leaned over to kiss Ingrid's cheek, lightly stroked her short-cropped blond hair, then sat facing her and took hold of her hand.

'You look lovely,' he said, meaning it. His excitement was raised by the pale beauty of her face, which was emphasized by her widebrimmed black hat, black jumper, and string of pearls, all matching the new black coat she was wearing. 'And that coat suits you perfectly,' he added. 'Did you get it in Paris?'

'No,' she said with a gentle smile. 'Right here, in the Kurfrstendamm. Parisian fashions are frowned upon these days, so I made sure it was German. You look handsome in your brand-new uniform black suits you as well though I still wished you'd stayed with the Reichswehr, instead of joining the SS.'

'Let's have coffee and strudel,' he suggested, deliberately changing the subject, not wanting this particular day to be spoiled with even a minor disagreement. 'Yes?'

'Yes, Ernst.' He called the waitress, gave her the order, then glanced out at the busy corner of the Unter den Linden and the Friedrichstra.s.se, its snow turned to slush by the many cars and pedestrians. When he returned his attention to Ingrid's green gaze, he was overcome by his love for her.

'You look excited,' she told him.

'It's seeing you,' he replied gallantly.

'No, Ernst, I don't think that's what it is. We both know what it is.' He was grateful that she realized and didn't mind too much. Today was January 30, 1933. It would soon be a memorable day for

Germany and already the excitement was building. Right now, Hitler and Goring were in the Chancellery with von Papen and Hindenburg, and the street between the Kaiserhof and the Chancellery was crowded with people. Before the day was out, Hitler would be the Chancellor of the Third Reich. A new era was dawning.

'I didn't expect to see you today,' Ingrid said. 'I was surprised to get your message. I thought you'd gone home for the fortnight.' 'I couldn't miss this day,' he told her. 'And my parents understood. My father still doesn't approve, of course he thinks I'm betraying my middle-cla.s.s origins but my mother recently joined the National Socialist Party, in secret, which I think is amusing.'

'I don't,' Ingrid said. 'A divided family isn't amusing. Your beloved National Socialist Party, which has already divided the country, is now dividing individual families. Do you think that's amusing?'

'I didn't mean it that way,' Ernst said, feeling a little embarra.s.sed. 'No, I'm sure you didn't,' Ingrid retorted with soft sarcasm, and then, perhaps realizing how she sounded, gently changed the subject. 'So, how's your family, Ernst?'

At that moment, the waitress returned with their coffee and strudel. 'They're fine,' Ernst said, pouring the coffee from the pot and thinking of his family home in Heidelberg, a grand house with fine gardens on the lower slopes of the majestic Odenwald. 'Father's sold his architectural firm and seems happy to have moved out of Mannheim and Mother likes it as well.'

'I'm glad,' Ingrid said, 'though I'm also glad I saw the old house in Mannheim before it was sold the house you were brought up in. There aren't too many like that these days.'

Ernst knew what she meant. His father had been one of the most successful architects in Germany his work conservatively based on neo-Renaissance and the 'safe' cla.s.sicism of Ludwig Hoffmann and his house in Mannheim, where he had spent most of his life, was a s.p.a.cious residence built around an elaborate courtyard and guarded by wrought-iron gates. Within that imposing home, Ernst had been brought up to treat as perfectly natural enormous neo-Gothic rooms, French furniture, Empire upholstery, fireplaces faced with valuable Delft tiles, glittering chandeliers, maids with white caps, black dresses, and white ap.r.o.ns, and even butlers in purple livery with gilt b.u.t.tons. Certainly, as Ingrid had noted, there weren't many houses like that these days but the very opulence of the lifestyle is what had driven Ernst away from it and into the National Socialist Party, thus outraging his father as well as upsetting Ingrid.

He couldn't explain what attracted him to Hitler because he wasn't too sure what the appeal was. He only knew for certain that he'd been swept up in a tide of enthusiasm generated by his fellow students, first at the Inst.i.tute of Technology in Munich, then in the University of Berlin, where he had been studying rocket technology under Professor Karl Emil Becker.

If he'd had any doubts at all about National Socialism they'd been swept away when, during his final semester at the university, he had attended an address that Hitler had delivered, in the Hasenheide Beer Hall, to the students of Berlin University and the Inst.i.tute of Technology. At first not impressed by the Charles Chaplin look-alike in a plain blue suit, who started speaking almost shyly in that dirty, gloomy beer hall, Ernst had soon been mesmerized by the rising pa.s.sion of his rhetoric and was then astounded to find himself bawling and clapping with many other students in a spontaneous outburst of enthusiasm. A few days later, unable to forget that mesmeric performance, he had joined the NSDAP; then, a few months after that, he dropped out of the university to join the army as a commissioned officer with the Weapons Office. When recently offered a transfer to the elite SS, he had been thrilled beyond measure.

'You're looking very thoughtful,' he said to Ingrid, who was staring steadily at him in her disconcerting manner.

'I was thinking what a pity it is that you dropped out of university in order to look handsome in such a uniform. You wanted to be an engineer, Ernst, and now you're a policeman.'

'A soldier,' he corrected her, perhaps too firmly. 'The SS isn't the Gestapo. Please bear that in mind. The Gestapo is the Secret Police organization, run by Goring. SS stands for Schatz Staffel, or Guard Detachment, and the SS, created by Himmler, is. .h.i.tler's personal bodyguard not a secret police force.' Ingrid shrugged. 'It's still sad, Ernst. And I still don' t understand why you did it, apart from naivety.'

He felt a flash of anger, but tried to conceal it. 'As I told you before, I joined the army because I wanted to be a rocket engineer, and the army is the best place to do that.'

'That much I understand.' She brushed the blonde hair from her green eyes, gazed out at the busy corner of the Unter den Linden and Friedrichstra.s.se, then returned her quizzical gaze to him. 'But I still don't understand why you then had to join the SS, which, whether a police force or Hitler's personal bodyguard, is not the place for a promising young engineer.'

'Because,' Ernst lied blatantly, 'it's the elite of the army and I only want to be in the best. It's as simple as that!'