Kirov II: Cauldron Of Fire (Kirov Series) (24 page)

“Very well,”
Pound harangued him. “Not German, not Russian, certainly not Italian….” He
waited, like an irate school master dressing down a recalcitrant student.

“I must be
frank and tell you I do not know what to make of all this just yet, gentlemen.
Every line we take leads us into a corner. We’re faced with one impossible
circumstance after another, but the fact remains: something is flinging
advanced rockets and weapons of unimaginable power at the Royal Navy, and now
at the Italian Navy as well. This ship, these weapons—well it would take the
resources of a major power to design and build these things. It could be that
this ship
is German after all, or even Russian, and that we have
maverick sea captain out there, some kind of Captain Nemo, a rogue warrior at
odds with Hitler or Stalin and with a very bad attitude towards anyone else who
crosses his path. Impossible as it sounds, he’s there, the ship is there, and
we have to deal with this.”

Whitworth
spoke up, clearly trying to tether the boat before it slipped its moorings.
“Well it seems to me that our confusion results entirely from the assumption
that these two ships are indeed one and the same. Suppose that incident
was
a German ship last year, or even some renegade Russian captain as your suggest,
though I find that a stretch. How it gets to the Med is quite a rabbit trick.
I’m more inclined to think of these incidents as unrelated. Perhaps this ship
in the Med is French, though it doesn’t seem likely, or even possible, it makes
more sense than anything else.”

Pound folded
his arms, frowning, but saying nothing more. Tovey tapped the table top with
his finger and looked at Wake-Walker with a knowing eye. Whitworth seemed
folded inward on some dark inner muse, then leaned forward, speaking softly yet
firmly.

“Gentlemen,
it’s obvious that we need more information. Where is Force Z at the moment?” he
asked, and the First Sea Lord replied.

“They should
be somewhere between Bone on the Algerian coast and the southern tip of
Sardinia. I have little doubt they’re mixing it up the Luftwaffe and Regia
Aeronautica by now.”

“Then that
would place them some 300 miles due south of this engagement—fifteen hours
sailing, even at their best speed if
Rodney
and
Nelson
can still
make twenty knots.”

 “Are you
suggesting we should divert the covering force north based on this single
report?”

“Not north,”
Whitworth said quickly, “West, gentlemen. West to Gibraltar. Respectfully,
Admiral, it’s not just this one report. 248 Squadron sights, and later attacks
an unknown surface contact in the southern Tyrrhenian Sea at noon yesterday. We
hear about it and then the Italians engage it at midnight and get a bloody nose
for their trouble. The ship heads north for the Bonifacio Strait, and Iachino
must have sent out his bully boys after it to settle the score—only he got
handed his hat in the matter, if that latest intercept is correct, and there it
is. This is obviously a job for the Royal Navy, but if we don’t turn Force Z
around quickly, this ship could make a run at the Rock before we could do
anything about it.”

There it
was, yet these professional sea dogs still found it very uncomfortable to look
at. What were they seeing here? There was no sense to it at all; no rhyme or
reason. Something was happening that was clearly beyond their imagining, and it
worried them all. Pound reacted with irritation and was all too eager to
scapegoat Turing in the matter. Whitworth was dancing round the point, although
willing to embrace it, if he only knew what he was about to grasp. Wake-Walker
was darkly silent, a military stirring reflected in his usually placid
features, eyes brightening above his thin nose.

“I agree
with Admiral Whitworth,” he offered, “I shouldn’t think it wise to send the
covering force north at this juncture. I should leave it right on track, but get
word off to Admiral Syfret that he should be prepared to turn about quickly,
upon our word, and head for Gibraltar with all speed.”

Pound looked
at him questioningly. “Have you lost your ardor for battle, sir? Shouldn’t we
get up north and sort this business out?”

“Lost my
ardor?” Wake-Walker overlooked the insult, accustomed to this line from Pound,
who has accused him of this very same thing in the engagement with
Bismarck
.
Tovey shifted uncomfortably as Wake-Walker continued. “No, sir I haven’t lost
my ardor for battle, but I learned to keep my head on my shoulders and not run
off half cocked until we know what we’re dealing with here. Perhaps this is a
French ship. Perhaps not. But if this is, indeed,
Geronimo
, as
impossible as it may seem to us now, then we must ask ourselves what in the
world this ship is about? How could it possibly be cruising in the Med, unseen
for a year, but now suddenly here and inclined to duel with anything that comes
within its compass rose? We may never answer these questions to our
satisfaction, but if we are to believe these reports and sightings then we had
damn well better be prepared. We don’t have to go looking for this ship,
Admiral. Something tells me it will soon come looking for us. Admiral Whitworth
is correct. After all, there’s only one way out of the bottle it now finds
itself in, and that way leads to Gibraltar. Given the course it has been on, I
believe this ship will soon be heading west, and I say we get Admiral Syfret
and the whole of his Force Z back to the Rock as soon as they have discharged
their task with the convoy. The sooner, the better.”

Pound gave
him a bemused look, but before he could say anything more Tovey spoke up,
leaning forward on both elbows as he passed the latest intercept to Pound like
a card dealer in a heated poker game. “And for my part,” he exclaimed. “I think
it would be wise to send word to Home Fleet at once and get up four hour steam
on anything seaworthy. I’m afraid we’ll have to inconvenience the Turkish
Ambassador, but I want
King George V, Prince of Wales,
and
Anson
out
to sea by noon if possible.”

“
Anson?”
Pound questioned. “But she’s only just completed her gunnery trials. Raw as a
baby’s bum on a bad day.”

“She’s been
working up with the fleet at Scapa Flow,” Tovey replied. “May I remind you that
Prince of Wales
sailed under similar circumstances when
Bismarck
sortied.”

“Yes, and
with rather disastrous results,” Pound admonished, casting a sidelong glance at
Wake-Walker.

“Well it
can’t be helped. I want all the firepower we can muster if this ship is indeed
this
Geronimo
raider we faced a year ago. As we’ve no further convoys to
Russia planned at the moment, we might also bring
Duke of York
down from
Hvalfjord as
well.
We’ll send out an oiler to top her off
along the way. I don’t think the Germans can bother us with
Tirpitz
at
the moment.”

“That leaves
the cupboard fairly well empty if they do,” Pound warned again.

“We’ll leave
Renown
behind. She hasn’t the armor for this fight. The loss of
Repulse
made that quite evident last time around.”

“Yes, well
she hasn’t the armor to stand with
Tirpitz
either.”

“
Tirpitz
is not our concern for the moment. She’s been dry-docked at Trondheim for
repairs. I don’t think Jerry can do much of anything with her for
weeks—possibly months.
Renown
can handle anything else they would dare
to put to sea. You can get me on a plane to Holyhead on the west coast and have
a cruiser pick me up to run me out to the fleet.”

“Good show,”
said Wake-Walker. “It’s fortunate we persuaded the Prime Minister not to send
Prince
of Wales
to the far east last August. She’s tangled with this
Geronimo
,
and was in no shape for that long sea voyage in any case. Now she’s patched up
and fit as a fiddle. Home Fleet is stronger than ever, and throw in
Rodney
and
Nelson
at Gibraltar and we’ll see who gets handed his hat this time
around.”

“Here,
here!” said Tovey, seconding the matter as he tapped the table with his open
palm.

The First
Sea Lord sighed audibly, looking askance at Turing, then back at Tovey and
Wake-Walker. “Well it seems as though you haven’t lost your ardor for battle,
Admiral.” He smiled at Wake-Walker, mending fences. “Are you certain we can
send the whole of Home Fleet’s heavy guns south like this? You understand that
this means the plans for Jubilee will have to be cancelled.” He was refereeing
to ‘Operation Jubilee’ the landing at Dieppe that was scheduled for 19 August,
in just a few days time.

“I did have
that in the back of my mind,” said Tovey. “Well, it can’t be helped. We won’t
have the ships to cover this Dieppe raid and run for Gibraltar as well. I
shouldn’t think we would want a division at sea in any wise until this
Geronimo
business is resolved.”

“And if this
is
a French ship? It’s going to be rather embarrassing when the Prime
Minister returns and sees we’ve sortied with the whole of Home Fleet, cancelled
major operations, and all this to run down a disaffected French sea captain.”

“In a ship
using advanced rocketry and capable of beating off two Italian battleships? If
there’s anything I’ve learned in this war, Admiral, it’s that we must plan for
the very worst case imaginable.”

“I suppose
you’re correct,” Pound put in one last time. “You say the Germans will not be
able to sortie
Tirpitz
, but that may be the least of our worries. If
this is
Geronimo
, let us not forget what happened to the Americans…”

He did not
have to argue the point further.

The meeting
was adjourned, and the Sea Lords soon scattered to their urgent duties. As they
were led out, Tovey made it a point to nudge Turing’s arm. “A brief word,
professor?”

The two men
were alone in the hallway now and Tovey spoke his mind. “Look here,” he began.
“This remark you made about Captain Nemo caught my attention. I read that story
as a boy, and it always stayed with me. I wonder about Admiral Pound’s theory
on this. We’ve been making overtures to the Vichy French with this Torch
operation in the planning. Darlan has been trying to woo the fleet at Toulon to
change sides. Might this be a French battleship, a rogue ship that has decided
to join our side, or perhaps even trying to reach Vichy ports in their African
Colonies?”

“That makes
good sense on one level, sir. If it was a battlecruiser out of Toulon it might
certainly explain these last two engagements with the Italians. But the
rocketry, sir. That was your point, and the odd man out in all this.”

Tovey
nodded. “Well, I didn’t want to press the matter, particularly with Admiral Pound,
but I have the feeling you haven’t quite fired a full broadside at us yet,
professor Turing. Is there something else you haven’t told us? Something you’re
holding back?”

Turing
looked at him, appreciating the man’s candor and glad to be spoken to with a
measure of respect. He knew his arguments would likely do little to dispel the
rumors circulating about him in higher circles, that he was a bit of a maverick
himself, a madman at times, with wild theories and undisciplined habits. He did
not wish to encourage that line further, fearing where it might eventually lead
if the authorities got too curious about him, but Tovey’s face was serious,
receptive and wholly sincere. Was this his chance to truly speak his mind?

“I can’t say
as I’ve got my hand on the neck of this one entirely, sir,” he compromised, “but
I’ll say this much, Admiral. You and I both know that it takes years to build a
ship of that size—massive resources. The Germans have very few shipyards
capable of building something that big. It simply isn’t something that Germany,
or any nation, could hide. Yes, we know the Japanese have been keeping a lid on
a couple of monster ships of their own, but Rodgers and Bemis knew about those
designs as early as 1938.”

Captain Fred
F. Rogers was a U.S. naval attaché in Tokyo, who had reported that ‘Japan had
designs for warships of 45,000 to 55,000 tons.’ His successor, Harold M. Bemis,
confirmed the report, the first clues that would eventually lead the American
intelligence to the existence of the super battleships
Yamato
and
Musashi
.
Turing continued.

“You see,
sir. You just can’t hide something like this. The Japanese have tried mightily,
but we still know about their covert battleship program. If this was a German ship,
we should have known about it. As for these rockets used against our ships and
planes… They’re graspable in our minds because we ourselves have similar
projects in development, and we know the Germans have the same, but certainly
not the French. I’ve been aware of Polish intelligence regarding development of
a “flying torpedo” by the Germans, and there are other similar technologies
they are working on. The Italians have been using air dropped torpedoes against
this latest Malta convoy as well. But everything we have seen of these
developments,
everything
, is far less advanced than the weapons used against
us by this ship. Furthermore, we haven’t seen a single peep from these weapons
in a year. Why not? If the Germans could mount them on a ship, then they could
also easily deploy them on land or even aircraft. Yet we’ve seen nothing.”