Implicated in the rebellion, the King had abdicated, stunned by the fact Suriyothai had taken the field against him. She had pointed out that she served the country and the monarchy, not an individual monarch.
She shook herself slightly, shaking off the old memories. Beside her, Plaek smiled; he had seen her perform as a soldier and found taking orders from her appropriate. It was simply recognition of ability. “Your Highness, may I introduce Wing Commander Fuen who devised the tactics we have seen today?”
“Well done, Wing Commander; a most impressive display. What do you call the observer on the ground?”
“A forward air controller, Your Highness.”
“Then train many forward air controllers. We should have one with radio equipment in every battalion at least. You have six months. And make sure our dive bomber pilots train hard. Far more than you can ever realize depends upon their skills.”
“Well, Phillip was right. France didn’t hold out very long after Britain caved in.” The passengers from the Boeing 314 had already disembarked but were stacked up waiting to get through French immigration. The chaos wasn’t the French officials’ fault; everything was still confused after the armistice signed in Paris had ended the fighting. The northern half of France was now under German occupation; the southern half was not. Igrat looked at the staff checking papers. Mostly they were the traditional French police, but there were some others lurking around, watching suspiciously. Gestapo. The flying boat anchored out in the bay was the first to arrive here since services had been suspended during the war. That apparently being over, Juan Trippe had moved quickly to reestablish his clipper service to Lisbon and Marseilles.
“Your name, mademoiselle?” The customs officer was looking at her passport, so the question was superfluous.
“Igrat Shafrid. Resident in Georgetown, Washington and Long Island, New York. I am here on a vacation trip.” Igrat’s French was fluent and won her immediate points with the immigration officials.
Not so much with one of the Gestapo officers. He pricked up his ears at the sound of Igrat’s name. “Do you have Jewish ancestry?” The question was snapped out.
Igrat switched smoothly to equally fluent German. “Certainly not. I am an American of Persian ancestry. You know, the original Aryans. My family has been in America since 1760. As for religion, the only God I believe in is printed by the United States Treasury and has pictures of presidents on it.”
“You can sure say that, sweetie.” Henry McCarty was playing the part of Igrat’s sugar daddy. That was the overt cover. As usual, there was a cover within a cover. The second-line cover was that he was actually a shady businessman who was looking for black market opportunities in a Germandominated Europe. Anybody who did a detailed investigation of the Broadway Baby and her sugar daddy would discover the corrupt businessman who had brought Igrat along as his cover. The best security was always to give people things to find.
The French official looked down and smiled. He’d recognized Igrat as an adventuress almost immediately and slightly envied McCarty for his companionship with her. Although, he had no doubt the stunning brunette would empty his wallet with great efficiency. “My apologies, mademoiselle. You will be staying in France long?”
“Only a few days. We are on our way to Geneva. My daddy has business with one of the banks there.” The note of boredom at the mention of business permeated Igrat’s voice.
“Now, sweetie, if Daddy doesn’t do his business, sweetie won’t get her presents.” Henry sounded almost pleading and the French official was desperately trying to not laugh.
“You promised we could go to the Champs Elysee.” Igrat pouted.
“I am sorry, mademoiselle. Paris is occupied by les Boches and nobody can go there from here. But the shops here in Marseilles are just as good.” The Frenchman spoke with the fervor of a man whose family had long resided in Marseilles and regarded Paris as having a collective case of a severely over-inflated ego. “And our restaurants are much better.”
“So I hear. Daddy promised me some real bouillabaisse.”
“Then you are in for the experience of a lifetime. Welcome to France.” Igrat’s passport was stamped and she was past immigration. McCarty followed her a minute of so later.
“Well done, Iggie. By the time you’d finished with him, I got through without a problem. The guy who spoke to you was Gestapo?”
“I think so. When I switched to German, he didn’t even blink. Are any of them following us?”
McCarty carefully looked behind. “I don’t think so. We’re clear. How do we get to the station?”
“It’s right there.” Igrat waved at a building in front of her. Bringing Henry along as a bodyguard had been Stuyvesant’s idea, not hers. Given her
own preference, she would have come alone. She was utterly confident in her
ability to slip through the backwash of a war without attracting any attention
and was convinced she could do this trip a day faster without having to worry
about her partner. “The train for Geneva leaves in just under an hour. The train
trip takes three and a half hours. We’ll be there for dinner.”
“Not bouillabaisse tonight then.” McCarty sounded disappointed.
“Don’t worry, we’ll have time for that later. The next clipper flight
back is in a week’s time, so we’ll have to kill time until then. By the way, you’d
better buy me some expensive presents. Keeping up the cover and all that. If
we are being checked out, we don’t want the checkers to think I’m losing my
touch. And we may need this cover in future.”
“That depends on whether Loki is for real or not. I’ve got a nasty feeling this is one of his practical jokes. This whole trip could be his idea of something funny.”
“It could be. Or an effort to get me over there. He’s been trying to get into my pants for years. We’ll only know when we get there. If this is one of his jokes, Phillip will get really nasty about it. I had to turn down a negotiable bonds delivery run for J.P Morgan to do this trip.”
McCarty nodded. The truth was that he was feeling a bit superfluous.
The ease with which Igrat talked her way past obstructions was only matched by the sheer organizational ability she showed in getting her trips set up. He’d always watched her courier runs around the world from the outside and thought her reputation in that line was overstated. Now, watching her at work close-up, he understood how much skill went into making her work look so easy. Fees for her services as an utterly trustworthy courier were her major contribution to the family income and had made her wealthy in her own right.
Now, he knew why.
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, one eyebrow lifted and a broad smile on her face. “Why, whatever makes you think that?”
“Eleanor, how are you? How did your trip go?” The Duke of St Albans was delighted and relieved to see Eleanor Gwynne arrive. Especially with two such formidable-looking friends in tow.
“The clipper was a real treat, ducks. And so it should be for the money they charged. May I introduce my friends? This is Achillea Foyle and Gusoyn Rivers. We didn’t know what was going on over here, so I brought some help.”
“I think you’ll realize what the problem is when you meet my other guest. Come into the reception room, all of you.”