Projekt Saucer: Inception Part 18

'Yes, Reichsfhrer and thank you.'

Himmler nodded at the armed guard in the corner of the room, and Wilson was led out to begin his journey to Gestapo headquarters.

CHAPTER FIVE Bradley met Robert H. G.o.ddard on the porch of the latter's large frame house on a street shaded by horse chestnut trees in Worcester, Ma.s.sachusetts, in the winter of 1933. The snow had not yet come, but the day was misty and cold, and the leaves were blowing around Bradley's feet when G.o.ddard shook his hand and ushered him inside.

It was a pleasant, old-fas.h.i.+oned house, with its original furniture covered in relatively new slipcovers, its windows draped with chintz, and a wood fire burning in the large, open fireplace. Bradley knew that G.o.ddard had lived here all his life, and it certainly suited him, being an unpretentious, comfortable place.

'Please take a seat,' G.o.ddard said, his voice as formal as his appearance when he indicated the sofa by the fire. 'I'm sorry I can't offer you much my wife's not home at the moment but I can at least make a cup of coffee.'

'That'd be fine,' Bradley said. 'I'll have it black, with no sugar.' G.o.ddard nodded solemnly and disappeared into the kitchen; he returned a couple of minutes later, carrying two cups of coffee. Bradley noticed his stooped walk, which, like his bald head, had been caused by tuberculosis in his youth. G.o.ddard handed Bradley the black coffee, sipped at his own, then took the armchair facing the sofa. His eyes were brown over a small moustache, his gaze slightly suspicious, reminding Bradley that he wasn't keen on representatives of a government that had ignored his remarkable talents for too long.

'So,' G.o.ddard said, 'you insisted on seeing me, even after I put you off on the phone when you called me at Clark. Have you come to make me an offer?'

Bradley grinned. 'No. I'm not in science or finance. I have heard that you've had trouble getting financed, but that's not what I'm here for.'

'If you're not part of the government's scientific community, why come to see me? The US government has never shown much interest in my work, so I'm naturally surprised that one of their representatives should turn up on my doorstep more so since he hasn't come to offer me help.'

'The National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics was recently formed to advise the government on every aspect of aeronautical development, political and scientific, both here and abroad. For that reason it was composed of those most respected in the aeronautical community. You were invited to join and you rejected the offer.'

'With all due respect to Orville Wright and my good friend Charles Lindbergh, I don't consider such an offer to be of help. In making me such an offer, you were seeking my help and what I need is government backing for my expensive research. That has never been offered.'

'I'm sorry.'

'I'm sure you are.'

Realizing that this was not going to be easy, Bradley decided to

skip the formalities. 'In fact, perhaps to make matters worse, I'm asking for help again.'

'Obviously not scientific help.'

'No. I'm an intelligence officer for the US Army Air Force and I need information.'

'Information about my work?' G.o.ddard asked suspiciously.

'No,' Bradley replied. 'I need to know about someone who worked with you a man named John Wilson.'

G.o.ddard straightened up, looking surprised, then collected himself by sipping some more coffee. When he lowered the cup and saucer to his lap, his gaze was masked.

'Ah, yes,' he said, 'Wilson. An odd bird. So why do you want to know about him?'

'Because I have to find him,' Bradley said, 'and he hasn't left many tracks. Do you mind if I smoke?'

When G.o.ddard shook his head to say he didn't mind, Bradley, who smoked only when he didn't know what to do with his hands, lit a cigarette.

'Why do you have to find him? Has he committed an offence?'

'No,' Bradley said, exhaling a stream of smoke. 'And that's all I can say for now. But please accept that this man must be found and you're our first lead.'

G.o.ddard shrugged. 'I can't help you much, Mr Bradley. I doubt that I know any more about him than you do. I only worked with him.'

'With him? I thought he worked for you.'

'You mean as my a.s.sistant?'

'Yes.'

G.o.ddard smiled for the first time a slight, laconic smile. 'Well, he certainly was that or was supposed to be that but a man like Wilson doesn't work for anybody else. He was too bright for that.'

'How bright?'

'Brilliant. He was clearly a genius.'

As G.o.ddard wasn't known for his generosity to fellow scientists, Bradley was surprised by this description.

'You've been called a genius,' he said. 'Are you saying that '

'The word genius is used far too casually for my liking,' G.o.ddard interjected, 'and so isn't one I'd normally use lightly. Yet I'd apply it without doubt to Wilson. The man was a genius.'

'How much did you learn about him?'

'Not much, Mr Bradley. He was guarded about his past, almost paranoid about remaining anonymous, and seemed to have few interests, other than s.p.a.ce flight. Like me, he thought it possible to fly to the moon and that's why he came to me.'

'When was that?'

'In 1930.'

Bradley saw a gla.s.s ashtray on a low table near the bookcase, so leaned sideways, picked it up, balanced it on one leg, and nicked some ash into it. 'And how did he come to work with you? Did he initially write to you?'