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152 pages

English

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Adolph Hitler has assumed power in Germany. A brilliant theoretical and experimental physicist has clandestinely discovered the secret of nuclear energy and the nuclear bomb. No other physicist has come close to this realization. The German physicist is prepared to deliver this secret to his Fuehrer and assure him control of the world. Who is this physicist? How can he be stopped? The intelligence services of two countries combine in an effort to disrupt the physicist's efforts. There is one chance. Time is of the essence. What is there about the physicist's past that can be utilized to try and prevent this threat to the world? Will it succeed? The future of the world hangs in the balance.

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Historical

Fiction

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Publié par	eBookIt.com
Date de parution	24 décembre 2013
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781456607265
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0150€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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The Twins

by
Sheldon Cohen

Copyright 2012 Sheldon Cohen,
All rights reserved.

Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com

ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0726-5

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

CHAPTER 1
The farm, just outside of Augsberg, Germany, had been in the Stegerwald family for five generations. In 1906, the main crop was barley, which made the farm very important because the Germans used barley to make beer—their national drink.
Yellow crops in parallel rows as far as the eye could see interrupted a thick carpet of grass. Narrow dirt roads wound up the low hills, disappeared on the other side and emerged again over the next hill. Crystal clear streams coursed over the land. Wooden fences divided the land into sections, and small homes and barns dotted the landscape.
Ludwig Stegerwald, a forty-eight-year-old widower, owned the farm. He was a short man of five foot five inches with dark brown hair that matched his intense, brown eyes burning from under heavy brows.
His gaze never rested on one site for long, his head moving from observation to observation like a bird perched on a branch. One could tell he was making mental calculations when his eyes would stop blinking and his wordless lips would move with his thoughts. The entire farm’s financial data, stretching back to the time that he inherited the farm from his father, were in his brain available for instant recall on a second’s notice. He had no need of paper records.
His amazing computational expertise was legend in Bavaria and Swabia. People would bring him long columns of figures. “Ludwig, add this please.” He would stare for two or three seconds, and respond, “Six thousand eight hundred and sixty-five.”
“How much is 4,245 times 3,204?”
This would take a few seconds longer. “13,600,980.” Numbers squared or cubed were faster. “What is eighteen cubed?”
With the question would come the response, “5,832.”
“How do you add so fast?”
His answer never varied. “I just do.”
Ludwig was the calculator of the community long before the average person had access to them. Neighbors who grew up with him reported amazing stories of his school exploits. His teachers did not know what to do, because when he entered kindergarten he was reading at a fifth-grade level. His parents, who were just as exasperated as his teachers, pulled him out of school after it became clear that the course of instruction had nothing to offer their son.
Ludwig’s parents were poor farmers. They never considered an education beyond grade school, and, even if they had, they could never have afforded it.
He had no formal education, but it made no difference. He was a voracious reader with a photographic memory. He became a source of information on any subject, not only mathematics. He was enamored with the history of science and had an encyclopedic knowledge in this area. In fact, on every business trip to Munich, he would stop at the main library to read the latest Annalen der Physik journal so that he could keep up with recent advances. Although he could not always understand the advanced mathematics so often included in the articles, he did have a good grasp of the physical principles involved.
He would try to duplicate the experiments he had read about in the journals. For this purpose, he set up a small laboratory in his attic, and when he was at work in his sanctuary, no one dared disturb him. He worked with closed glass tubes emptied of air through which he would send an electric current from the negative pole (cathode) of an electric source. The tube would glow with beautiful colored rays of light that fascinated him. What were the rays that appeared once the current started? Was electricity an actual particle of matter? Was it a wave? Was it a complete atom?
On one of these trips to Munich, he learned that Joseph John Thomson, a Scottish physicist, had solved the mystery. Thomson determined that the so-called cathode ray was composed of negative charges of electricity. Scientists would soon be calling them electrons.
This was the source of great fascination for Ludwig. However, people he could discuss these developments with were a precious few. One of them was his business advisor, Joshua Weiss, who appreciated Ludwig’s scientific genius. “You’re like Michael Faraday, Ludwig. He didn’t have any scientific training either.” So Ludwig became content to add scientific information to his vast store of physical knowledge and found great satisfaction in doing so. He set up a similar experiment and tried to duplicate Thomson’s work.
If anyone in town needed information on any subject, they would approach him. He never conveyed an attitude of superiority, answering their questions with whatever amount of detail he felt necessary to convey the information. For this, his neighbors showered him with love and respect.

CHAPTER 2
Werner Stegerwald, Ludwig’s son, was the supervisor of his father’s farm. He was born there, as were his father and grandfathers before him. He was the third of four children. His two older sisters were married. One lived in town, and the other lived in Munich. A younger brother was soon to be married.
Werner was twenty-three years old. He was a short man like his father, not quite five foot six, and had dark blond hair and blue eyes that years later would stand him in good stead in Germany. In spite of his short stature, he was well muscled, honed by intense physical labor on his father’s farm. No one had been able to defeat him in arm wrestling competition. People gave him a wide berth because of his morose manner and rough exterior.
His strengths lay in the physical aspects of farming. He oversaw the planting and growing of the barley and the harvesting, steeping, germinating, and kilning process essential to producing the final malt product. At least fifty percent of the barley was used to make malt and the other fifty percent was used as livestock feed and human food. He took pride in being able to do all the heavy work alone, and this, no doubt, contributed to his enormous strength.
Ludwig had long since learned that his son had neither interest in nor the capacity to understand scientific principles, so the two of them, to Ludwig’s disappointment, never shared the subject together.
Tradition had it that the eldest son would inherit the farm, so Werner made every effort to prepare himself to take over. He had married his childhood schoolmate, Brigid, three years before in 1903. Together they built a small home on the edge of the farm.
To his dismay, his wife was still childless after three years of marriage, and this was becoming a cause of concern for both of them. Ludwig suggested that they had better get busy, for who would inherit the farm after Werner? What Ludwig did not know was that they had been very busy, but in spite of their efforts, she had not conceived.
Brigid was the daughter of a neighboring farmer. She was a five-foot-three-inch beauty with brown eyes and brown-blond hair. She spent her childhood in the presence of a strict disciplinarian father, who was quick to use the lash when necessary.
She found in Werner a man of similar gruff manners, but not prone to the physical violence of her father. This she viewed as a plus. She was quiet and intelligent, but her intellect remained buried, fearful of manifesting itself before the domineering male influences in her life.
One day, Werner came home after a very hard day at work. There were delays because of some faulty machinery that he had to repair. Such a situation would often make him very angry and cause him to scowl in a way that Brigid had learned to recognize. When she saw that look on his face, she would do her best to give him plenty of space by making herself scarce.
On this evening, Werner arrived home dirty and covered with perspiration. He entered the kitchen with its homemade cabinets, tables and chairs that he had built from the trees on his farm.
Brigid was in the kitchen wearing her apron. She had prepared dinner and she took one look at Werner with his dirty, grease-covered hands and face, disheveled hair, and lips turned down into that familiar scowl, and she wondered what would erupt. She knew that there was tension between them and she knew the reason. She twisted her apron strings, as she was prone to do when she was nervous. Their situation gave her considerable depression, which caused her to become more withdrawn. Even her rare smiles had disappeared. Werner would often find her with her head in her hands looking down at the floor, her cheeks pale, and her sparkling brown eyes and hair turned dull. “You better leave me,” she would say. “I can’t give you a son.”
Werner had not responded yet, but she knew how he felt. The support Brigid needed during this very stressful time would not come from Werner; it never had. Her depression continued, and with it, she was losing all interest in the physical side of their marriage, feigning headaches and avoiding him whenever she could.
Werner was becoming more angry and tense. She had been dreading the eruption, but at the same time hoped it would happen so that the issue could be settled. One look at him told her now might be the time. She was right.
“You don’t want to try anymore? Are you waiting for an Immaculate Conception?” said Werner with a stern, angry look on his face, as if that had been the topic of discussion all along. “That only happened one time in history. I’m boiling inside. Why the hell I put up with it I’ll never know.”
“I don’t care what you do,” she said.
“Let’s go to a doctor in Munich and see if he can find out what’s wrong with you.”
“Doctors can’t do anything; it’s an act of God. If you l