Dean Reuter is the lead author. He has apparently compiled research vouched for by biologist Colm Lowery and collected by an expert on UFOs during WWII, Keith Chester. That's right, flying saucers. And I've no idea how an expert on biological warfare gets involved.
Reuter is "General Counsel, Vice President & Director of the Practice Groups of the Federalist Society for Law and Public Policy..." Reuter tries to lend an air of legitimacy to the amateur sleuthing and spooky feelings of the other two. But the fact is, their case is circumstantial at best.
The book reads like a teenager's I-Search paper - a kind of pseudo-research paper designed to appeal to unmotivated high school children, which requires the student author to focus on how she did the research, rather than on any conclusions she might derive from the research. It makes the child reveal her own process, rather than evaluate the material she gathers. It's skills are fairly low on Bloom's Taxonomy of educational objectives.
Mr. Reuter is more interested in telling us where he was when he received, say, a midnight call from one of his sources, than in addressing their claims. Often he gives credence to their claims only grudgingly, after creating the spooky atmosphere that almost always accompanies contact with them. "It was a dark and stormy night when I received a shocking phone call..." could be the first line of many chapters.
In short, it's more about Mr. Reuter's life being interrupted by fervid and suggestive but ultimately conjectural messages from persons on his contacts list, than it is about the facts of the case. He's an attorney, not a historian. The case is presented with false dramatization, and is rather jumbled and out of sequence in a lot of its parts. And yet, he's a believer in these midnight rambles.
It appears that he has done little of the research himself; he's too busy at the Federalist Society. He is like a prospector panning for gold with a sieve - swirl, swirl, swirl. What he finds in his pan is, I think, fool's gold. And yet, it doth glitter.
He fails to make a coherent case, but casts doubts like dragons' teeth. That's all he can do given that the subject, Hans Kammler, really has disappeared without a trace. Most of the documents are communications from one military organization asking another, "Where's Kammler? Have you got him?" These questions reveal an absence of evidence. And yet...
Remember: An absence of concrete evidence is not, and cannot be, proof of a conspiracy.
That said, if you're armored against the conspiracy theory aspect of the book, and if you can sort through the rubbish as you read, it does make an interesting "game." Like playing "Clue," but with so many pieces missing that you can't finish the game. Kammler's disappearance is suggestive; so is the way in which the rocket scientists fell into our hands. Reuter does reference other works on that subject, legitimate histories which I now intend to read.
The book may tempt you, or not; but don't let it undermine your judgment. Caveat emptor: "Never eat at a place called Mom's; never play cards with a man called Doc; and never sleep with a woman whose problems are worse than your own." Don't go to bed with this theory.