A Mighty Endeavor (14 page)
“Not just the Chinese.” Cordell Hull was thoughtful. “If we get Churchill out, he’ll set up a government in exile. All the British Dominions and a fair number of colonies are sitting on the fence right now, waiting for a lead. He’ll give it to them and they’ll tell Halifax to stuff his armistice.”
“Why?” Arnold had assumed the rest of the British Empire would follow London’s example.
“Because they’re like us in 1776. A few polite requests and words of regret for offense unwittingly caused would work wonders, but Halifax won’t give them. He’s like every other weakling who has been bullied all his life. When he has a victim of his own, he takes all his own life experiences out on them. Given a lead, the Colonies will stay in the war. I feel sure of that. Even if they don’t realize it themselves, they’re looking for an excuse to cock a snook at London. And when they do, we can offer them a whole new air force, all of their own.”
“One other thing.” Stuyvesant looked at the files he had in front of him. “We touched on this earlier, but it’s becoming a critical issue in our evaluations. We don’t have a bomber that can get from the East Coast to Berlin and back again. Even if we use Iceland as a forward base, that’s a long haul. If we are going to prosecute the coming war from here, we’re going to need an aircraft that can do that.”
“We surely will. You’re an aircraft man, Stuyvesant. As an investor, at least. Would you care to go over to Boeing and Consolidated and get briefed on what their aircraft can do? Seeing what they have in mind might help you get the plan of attack more clearly defined.”
“I’ll do that, Sir.”
Bang Phitsan Palace, Bangkok, Thailand
“Welcome to Bangkok, Igrat. How do you like our new airfield?”
“I prefer flying boats, Snake. So much more comfortable.”
Suriyothai smiled at the use of her nickname, something that was known only to a tiny handful of people around the world. “We don’t have suitable landing points for flying boats. I’ve looked. It has to be land planes, which is a problem for us. Long haul airlines are built around using flying boats. Anyway, what have you brought me?”
“We came across this in our business. You know we are working for the U.S. Government now?” She handed over the Noth report, complete with its bloodstained cover.
“I do. I was pleased to see Phillip has finally admitted the correctness of my opinions.”
Igrat sighed. The relationship between Stuyvesant and Suriyothai was complex. On some levels, he was her mentor and teacher; on others the two were deeply divided. Their personal relationship added extra layers of complexity to the cocktail. While the two had some pretty spectacular rows over the years, their mutual respect had avoided the simmering dislike that existed between Stuyvesant and Loki. “He hasn’t. We are simply acting as advisors and analysts, providing that leadership with accurate information it can rely upon.”
“Being part of the political leadership here works. And this isn’t being involved in politics?” Suriyothai tapped the bloodstains on the cover.
“That wasn’t us. That was Loki.”
“Ahh, this comes from him then.” Suriyothai grinned broadly at Igrat who was distinctly uncomfortable at having been caught. “Sit down while I glance at this.”
Igrat watched while Suriyothai started to read the Noth report. Quietly, one of the maids brought in a bowl of fresh fruit and a pot of tea. The minutes ticked by as Suriyothai thumbed through the pages. Eventually, she looked up at Igrat. “And what did Phillip think of this?”
“He said it was probably the dumbest strategic idea he had ever read. And given some of the strategic plans he has seen over the years, that is saying something. After he finished making choking noises, he said it was a typical product of an amateur strategist who had no idea of logistics, movement constraints or political realities.”
Suriyothai laughed delightedly. “He is not losing his touch then. Did he go red?”
“Oh yes. The plan there has been abandoned though. Germany will be hitting Russia next year. We will be getting confirmation of that shortly, but everything we know points that way.”
“And that will be a bloody war indeed. Igrat, please tell Phillip that nobody else needs to know that this plan had been abandoned. Who was this Odwin Noth by the way?”
“One of Loki’s people, but a renegade, so I believe. One who had god-like delusions.”
“I see. Well, no self-respecting strategist would take this seriously, but I am not dealing with such people out here. The ones who understand strategy know well the threat that faces us and what we must do to overcome it. Those who do not will be convinced by this and will be scared out of their wits by it. Phillip has done me a great service by sending this over. Odwin Noth may have been a fool and a renegade, but he has supplied me with a vital piece of the puzzle I am solving here.” She paused for a moment, “Igrat, is Phillip in a position to get Secretary Hull to ease up on us? The American refusal to sell us arms hurts us badly and may yet force us into the arms of the Japanese.”
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t think so anyway. I’ll ask when I get back. However, there are great quantities of arms ordered by France and Britain stored in the United States. If you can find a way of breaking them loose, they should solve your problems.”
“That is a useful thought. Igrat, I will have a car drive you back to the airport. Next time you come here, tell Phillip I will accept no arguments. You and I will go shopping together.”
Egilsstadir Airport, Iceland
The B-17C lined up with the runway and made a near-perfect three-point landing. It came to a halt about three quarters of the way down the runway, then taxied off on to a parking lane. Once the engines started to spool down, Stuyvesant watched a hatch in the lower part of the fuselage open up and the crew drop out; four men, led by a stocky officer whose command authority was immediately obvious.
“Stuyvesant?” Stuyvesant had expected the voice to be overbearing and a near-shout; in fact, it was soft and hard to hear over the residual engine noise and the wind. He had to strain to catch the words.
“I am. Captain LeMay?”
LeMay nodded. “My crew. Captain Archie Smith, Second Lieutenants Harris Hull and John Paul Bobo. They told me this mission was critical, so I brought the best we have.”
“Pleased to meet you gentleman. Would you like to rest up from your flight?”
“I see no cause for rest. The aircraft will be repainted here. Your party has been told we’ll be heading into Prestwick?”
“They have and they’ll be there. I’ve got your passenger manifest and other documents. My courier brought them out yesterday. She’s in the control tower if you need any additional data. Party is Winston Churchill, Henry Thomas Tizard, Brigadier F.C. Wallace of the British Army, Captain H.W. Faulkner from the Royal Navy, Group Captain F.L. Pearce of the Royal Air Force, Professor John Cockcroft, a nuclear physicist and Assistant Director of Scientific Research at the Ministry of Supply, Dr Edward George Bowen, a radar expert, Arthur Edgar Woodward-Nutt, an Air Ministry official and Frank Whittle, a propulsion engineer. Also, there will be Achillea Foyle, Gusoyn Rivers and Eleanor Gwynne. They’re the security detachment. Twelve people in all. Plus three thousand pounds of scientific documents and prototype equipment.”
LeMay nodded. “We can manage this. The aircraft has a bomb bay fuel tank. The cargo will have to ride inside. The two women can sit in the radio cabin; everybody else will fit where they can.”
“Captain, why did you choose Prestwick? There are other bases further north.”
“No fog there. Ever.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Not your job to.”
Stuyvesant was getting used to LeMay’s manner. The terse manner wasn’t rudeness; the man habitually used the fewest possible number of words to get his meaning over clearly. Despite the man’s reticence, Stuyvesant found himself liking the Air Corps Captain. That made the next bit uncomfortable.
“Captain, you have been briefed on this mission. It’s top secret. We’ve got a cover story worked out, but it’s flimsy and will probably fall apart. If it does, the next cover is that you were on leave and took on delivering this aircraft as a private venture. Earning a little money on the side, as it were, to deliver an embargoed aircraft. If it comes to that, your reputation will be pretty much trashed. If you want out, just say so.”
“I was briefed, so I brought a minimum crew.”
“Something else.” Stuyvesant hesitated, not quite certain how to phrase this and not wanting to give offense. “Three members of my family are in the party you’ll be picking up. That puts me, and my whole family, in your debt. If this goes wrong, we will look after you. If this goes really, terribly wrong, we will look after your family. They’ll want for nothing. We’ve done that for other people who’ve helped us in the past and we’ll do it in the future. We take pride in paying our debts in full.”
LeMay said nothing but nodded slightly. “You coming, Stuyvesant?”
Stuyvesant was about to say no, but he suddenly realized it had been a long time since he had done something arguably stupid just for the sheer joy of it. “If you can fit me in, yes.”
“You can ride in the co-pilot’s seat.” The two men walked over to the control tower. A hastily-built structure, it offered only nominal protection from the biting wind. Tucked in one corner, Igrat was reading a fashion magazine. The collar of her fur coat was turned up and her nose was reddened by the wind.
“Igrat, this is our navigator and mission commander, Captain LeMay. Captain, our courier, Igrat Shafrid.”
Igrat gave LeMay her most charming smile and got virtually no response. LeMay looked at her curiously. “You went to England and relayed the plan details?”
“Yes. The code is a Morse letter V. Dit-dit-dit-dah. Flash it on your landing lights as you come in. I also weighed all the equipment and papers they wanted to bring and made each member of the party weigh themselves. The list of weights is on that manifest. I thought it might help you load quickly.”
“It will.” LeMay looked through the sheets of paper. “I find no cause for complaint here. Commendable.”
He left to supervise the repainting of the Flying Fortress. It was already beginning to sport the British “sand and spinach” color scheme with its belly painted black. Igrat looked at Stuyvesant and raised a carefully arched eyebrow. “Why do I think that he believes the proper reward for a perfect performance is the absence of punishment?”
“Iggie, I think you just got the highest praise you’re ever likely to receive. I doubt if he’s ever told more than one or two people that their performance was ‘commendable’ in his life.” Stuyveasant thought for a second. “People like him are rare. Planners and administrators are commonplace, but our Captain LeMay is an operator. He doesn’t talk or lecture. He just makes things happen.”
Bestwood Lodge, Arnold, Nottinghamshire, United Kingdom
“Osbourne, please, one last chance. Come with us.” Eleanor Gwynne pleaded with the man standing next to her. She was shabby; her clothes were torn and her face streaked with makeup that appeared to have run from continuous weeping. In fact, the appearance was deceptive and the result of patient preparation. It was essential that she looked like a maltreated prisoner and that their safety could depend on it.
The Duke of St. Albans shook his head. “My place is here. Somebody will have to organize a resistance to That Man. The regular army wouldn’t take me and I won’t sit around on a pension in a foreign land. This is where the de Vere Beauclerk family lives and where we will stay. Charles has his part in all this and must stay. By the same logic, I must stay and do my part. Now run along Nell, and get our people to safety.”
The trucks and the Humber staff car were waiting outside. Gusoyn and Achillea wore the black shirts and khaki pants of the Police Auxiliary. Both had Thompson submachine guns hanging over their shoulders and Webley revolvers in holsters on their Sam Browne belts. Eleanor had another Webley carefully hidden beneath her clothes. Her shackles, ragged clothes and bruised face would cause her to be ignored as a potential threat if the back of the lorry was searched. A little judicious weeping would add to the effect. The combination would cost the man taken in by it his life. Eleanor Gwynne wasn’t a fighter and did not hold the principle of a fair fight in any great regard. She had no compunction about shooting people in the back.
Four other members of the party, the youngest ones, were also dressed as Auxiliary Police carrying Thompsons. The rest were in the trucks, also appearing to be prisoners. They too sported bruises and ragged clothing. Of course the primary ‘prisoner’ was the stout figure of Winston Churchill. The instructions that had been passed via Igrat were quite clear. He was to escape even if it cost everybody else their lives.
Gusoyn took Eleanor by the elbow and helped her up into the back of the small lorry. She settled down on the wooden bench and checked that the shackles she was wearing would slide off without any delay. If she had to spring an ambush, split seconds would be vital. Her job was to shoot the man nearest to her and the most threatening man and then draw fire. If it went well, Achillea would cut the others down with her Thompson before they had the chance to kill anybody. Eleanor didn’t want to know what would happen if it didn’t go well.