W. E. B. Griffin The Devil's Weapons (Men at War, Band 8) - Hardcover

Kirsanow, Peter

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0593422287 ISBN 13: 9780593422281

Verlag: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 2022

Inhaltsangabe

Dick Canidy and the agents of the OSS scour war torn Poland looking for a rocket scientist who holds the secrets to the Nazis most dangerous weapon in this new entry in W.E.B. Griffin's New York Times bestselling Men at War series.

April 1940. By terms of the Soviet Nazi Nonaggression pact, the two dictatorships divided the helpless nation of Poland. Now, the Russians are rounding up enemies of the state in their occupation zone, but one essential target slips away. Dr. Sebastian Kapsky had spent years working with Walter Riedel and Werner von Braun in the early days of rocket science, but as a man with a conscience he refused to continue when he saw the perversion of their work by the Nazis. That makes him the most knowledgeable person about German superweapons outside of Germany. 
 
The Germans want him. The Soviets are desperate to grab him, but Wild Bill Donovan knows there's only one man who can find him in the middle of a war zone and get him out—Dick Canidy. 

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

W. E. B. Griffin was the author of seven bestselling series: The Corps, Brotherhood of War, Badge of Honor, Men at War, Honor Bound, Presidential Agent, and Clandestine Operations. He passed away in February 2019.
 
Peter Kirsanow practices and teaches law and is an official of a federal agency. He is a former member of the National Labor Relations Board and has testified before Congress on a variety of matters, including the confirmations of five Supreme Court justices. He contributes regularly to  National Review, and his op-eds have appeared in newspapers ranging from The Wall Street Journal to The Washington Times. The author of Target Omega and Second Strike, he lives in Cleveland, Ohio.

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Chapter 1

It was the peculiar smell that he remembered most.

Not the hideous scenes, the horrific sounds, or the paralyzing cold. Not the terrified faces, or even the bodies mangled beyond recognition.

It was the smell. Utterly unlike anything he'd experienced in his nearly forty-one years on Earth. It was almost a tactile sensation, damp and suffocating. The product of blood and urine and intestines; rotting flesh and pulverized organs. It seemed to have lined his nostrils, penetrated his skin.

As he trod carefully through the woods, trying to orient himself while remaining alert for patrols, he recited the names of his four contacts and the three passwords assigned for each. The passwords had been given to him just once, hurriedly and in a hushed tone. He hoped he'd heard correctly. If he hadn't, he'd be dead within seconds of uttering the error.

There was little risk of his forgetting the names and passwords, no matter how tense the circumstances. Dr. Sebastian Kapsky had a prodigious memory capable of retaining and retrieving the most complex equations ever generated by the human brain. Equations that could affect or alter history. Memory wasn't the issue. Rather it was whether what his brain retrieved when he spoke to the contacts was actually what was spoken to him by his seatmate, Bronislaw Haller.


Katyn, Soviet Union
1430, 23 April 1940

Bronislaw Haller was a jeweler from Biaystok. He and Kapsky had been rounded up by Red Army soldiers within days of the Soviet invasion of Poland, ostensibly for "administrative processing"-at least that's what they'd gleaned from the statements from the praporshchiks taking their names before herding them onto transports. A lumbering open-bed lorry transferred them to the Ostashkov Camp in Katyn Forest, where they would be funneled into concrete bunkers along with thousands of other men-mainly soldiers and policemen-but also a fair number of municipal officials, clergy, and academics.

From the moment they clambered aboard the lorry and sat next to each other, Haller had been anxious. More than anxious; his face was covered with a look that ranged between apprehension and dread. Within seconds of sitting next to Kapsky, Haller leaned near and whispered, "Find your opportunity, friend, and run. Don't hesitate. You'll only get one chance. Run and run fast."

Kapsky was startled. None of the detainees had spoken a word since they'd been marched toward the transports. Haller recognized the indecision on Kapsky's face. "Listen to me, friend. This isn't going to be random questioning, temporary detainment." Haller nodded toward two Russians dressed in civilian clothes standing apart from the Red Army soldiers. "That is NKVD. They do not send NKVD to verify names and addresses. They send NKVD for one thing: to kill."

Kapsky glanced toward the two civilians. Each wore dismissive, contemptuous expressions as they surveyed the Poles arrayed on the lorries. It was as if they were looking at something that would soon be irrelevant, like spoiled food being hauled to a dumpster. Kapsky leaned toward Haller. "Run where?"

"Anywhere. Just run. You'll know where to go later, but you must go."

Kapsky looked back at the NKVD officers, then leaned closer to Haller. "You lead. I'll follow."

A sardonic look came over Haller's face. "Obviously, you were not paying attention when I came aboard." He moved his long coat aside and gestured toward his legs. They were encased in a latticework of metal braces. "I've not run since I was eighteen years old." He shook his head. "I have no chance. But you may have one. And I can help."

A Soviet soldier closed the lorry's tailgate. One of the NKVD officers motioned for the driver to drive. As he waved his arm, the seams of his overcoat parted, revealing a Tokarev semiautomatic. The lorry lurched forward slowly.

Kapsky asked, "What do you mean you can help?"

Haller said, "You don't have much time, and few opportunities." He glanced about the bed of the vehicle and reached into his pocket. Most of the passengers were watching the Soviet troops lining the lorry's path. He withdrew a small cloth purse and pressed it into Kapsky's hand. Kapsky inspected it quizzically before opening it. Inside were several dozen zoty.

Kapsky snorted. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Train fare."

Kapsky handed the purse back. "No disrespect, but that is no help. I will get nowhere near a train." He waved at the scores of troops escorting the caravan of lorries. "They will seize the purse as soon as we get to our destination."

"No. They will not."

Kapsky squinted. "Why not?"

"Because you will give them something much more valuable. Something that will make them ignore your train fare."

"I have nothing of value."

"But I do. And I will give it to you in return for an oath."

Kapsky struggled not to appear impatient. "Oath? Is this a child's game? No riddles, please. Tell me what you want from me."

"Go to my family. Keep them safe."

Kapsky inspected Haller's face. It was a practical face. The face of a man with few illusions. A man who assessed Kapsky in scant minutes and judged him up to the task. Or perhaps the only one who would consider performing it.

Nonetheless, Kapsky gestured toward the escort vehicles on either side of the convoy carrying scores of Red Army troops. "Seriously? You ask the impossible."

Haller drew closer. "I did not say it would be easy, but it is possible. With money all things are possible. Indeed, probable."

"A few zoty?"

"More than a few. More than train fare. Much more."

"Show me."

"I cannot at this time."

Kapsky turned away sharply and scanned the muddy road ahead. It was lined on each side by tall pine, the tops enshrouded in depressing gray mist. It produced a sense of foreboding. Haller was silent for several seconds, then leaned forward. "I have several grams of uncut precious stones. Their value is considerable. Very considerable. You may use some to secure your release, the remainder to see to my family's safety."

Kapsky returned his gaze to Haller's face. He scanned it skeptically for several seconds. "Show them to me."

A sheepish look came over Haller's face. "I cannot." He paused, then added hurriedly, "But understand, I do have them with me."

Kapsky continued examining Haller's face. It looked as if it were imploring him to understand what Haller was saying. After a few seconds, Kapsky blinked and sat erect. "You have them with you..."

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"... Within you."

Haller nodded. "Undetectable, yet retrievable."

Kapsky gazed toward the tops of the pines, then at the guards brandishing Soviet submachine guns. "How do you know that I won't simply abscond with the remaining stones after bribing the guards?"

"I do not."

Kapsky said, "We have no options..."

"We always have options, friend, always."

Kapsky stared at the floor of the lorry for nearly a minute. "How do I find them, your family?"

"They're in a hamlet outside Biaystok. The address is in the purse."

Kapsky nodded and said nothing. They rode in silence for several minutes. Then Kapsky asked, "And when I find them, your family, what should I tell them about you?"

Haller smiled. "Tell them I escaped but had to take a different route, a longer route. It will take a while for me to arrive. Tell them I will join them when circumstances permit."

Kapsky understood. It was the response of a man who believed he was doomed.



Chapter 2

Washington, D.C.
1330, 24 April 1940

The humidity in Washington, D.C., was oppressive even in late April. It was compounded by Professor...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: G.P. Putnam's Sons
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2022
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593422287
• ISBN 13: 9780593422281
• Einband: Gebundene Ausgabe
• Anzahl der Seiten: 416
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: G.P. Putnam's Sons; https://www.penguin.com/putnam/; ; 1745 BROADWAY Attn: Madison Forsander; NEW YORK; NY; 10019; USA
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar