“The fact is that we have raw materials that the other Commonwealth countries need and the same applies in reverse. What we lack is a medium by which that trade can be carried out. Since Halifax’s armistice has effectively torpedoed the pound sterling in the world exchange markets, we desperately need a substitute. The Commonwealth countries need their basket of currencies if they are to survive; it’s just that we now need one that does not include the pound sterling. We also need a source of manufactured goods. More precisely, we need a country that can take our raw materials and supply us with manufactured goods in exchange. I can think of only one country in this region that can fill that need.”
“Japan.” Sharpe made the statement with a degree of finality that was heavy with dislike for the idea.
“And we should create an alliance with one fascist power to avoid a relationship with another?” Nehru also disliked the idea, although he guessed that there was a wing of his party that would be more accepting of the concept.
“Forgive me for not seeing how this is much of an improvement in our situation.”
“Forgive me for saying so, but Subhas Chandra Bose might disagree with you on that point.” One of the responsibilities of the Cabinet Office in any British-run government was supervision of the intelligence services. It just so happened that was one of Sir Eric Haohoa’s primary duties. His reward for the observation was an involuntary grimace on the face of Nehru. “But, there is saying, when supping with the devil, use a long spoon. We are not creating an alliance here, just finding a market for our raw materials to bridge the gap until we can stand on our own feet. Remember, Pandit, we’re running against the clock here. We have to do two things; one is to find markets for our produce and the other is to find a currency the Commonwealth can use as a world standard. For, on that point, if we do not hang together, we will all hang separately.”
“And we cannot have a new currency standard while the present situation remains unresolved.” Sharpe felt slightly foolish stating the obvious, but sometimes the obvious got overlooked because nobody bothered to state it.
“Agreed. Nobody is taking the lead in jumping ship because nobody wants to take the chance of carrying the blame if it all ends in tears. We will just have to hope that something forces our collective hands.”
“What else is going on over there, Iggie?” Phillip Stuyvesant leaned back in his chair, fascinated by the insight into the current English state of affairs that Igrat was providing. She’d been speaking about her experiences at the Southampton flying boat terminals; reading between the lines, she’d enjoyed twisting the tails of the officials there.
“The big one? Nell, Gusoyn and Achillea have Winston Churchill and a dozen or so leading scientists and engineers either tucked away in an English stately home, or ready to move at a moments notice. They’ve gone and formed their own auxiliary police unit that’s throwing its weight around in the Nottingham area, so that they are cordially loathed by the local people and thus accepted as being legitimate by them. They picked me up at the station which got me some sympathetic looks from the locals. I’d have been scared, but I saw Gusoyn was the driver. So I went along with it.”
“Winston Churchill? They have him squirrelled away? Where?”
Stuyvesant was amazed. The ‘where is Winnie’ question was causing arguments around the world, and the impression was already growing that he had been quietly killed by Halifax. Discovering that he was already in safe hands, if not precisely in a safe location, was a new piece to the intricate political puzzle that was forming.
“He’s in Nell’s ancestral home. He’s quite safe there. Nell and the others believe they can move him around if they want using their phony police unit. That’s why they formed it. By the way, they gave me something to bring out as an example of the sort of technology that they can smuggle out when we rescue Churchill.”
Igrat reached into her case and pulled out a metal box. Carrying it as if it didn’t weigh anything had nearly given Igrat a strained shoulder, but she’d pulled it off. She opened it and pulled out a contraption with wires hanging from it.
“A revolver cylinder. One with eight chambers and obviously too big for a hand-held revolver. And its got lots of metalwork attached to it. So?” Stuyvesant was curious.
“It’s called a cavity magnetron.” Igrat spoke in a voice that had the lilt and inflexions of somebody else. Stuyvesant knew he was hearing an explanation that she’d been given by an expert and that she was relaying exactly as she had heard it. “It is a high-powered vacuum tube that generates microwaves using the interaction of a stream of electrons with a magnetic field. This piece of equipment has been generated by two scientists called Randall and Boot. The high power of pulses from the cavity magnetron makes centimeter-band radar practical and thus allows the detection of smaller objects. It also drastically reduces the size of radar sets so that they can be installed in aircraft and ships.” The alien timbre to her voice dropped away as she finished the prepared part of her speech. “There’s a lot more where this came form. Stuff on new engines for aircraft; all sorts of things. Some basic physics stuff as well. Don’t ask me if that’s any use.”
“And what’s this going to cost us?”
“Nothing. The British are giving it all to us, for the common good. All we have to do is come over and get it.”
Stuyvesant nodded. “So, we get the goodies if we rescue them and this cavity magnet is a good faith gift to show us the goodies are real. This is a deal I can relate to. Has the gang any idea of how to get this group out?”
“They suggest buying a flying boat and landing it Scotland somewhere. Either at the coast or in one of the lochs.”
“They’re very free with our money. Have they no idea how much a Boeing will cost us? Leave this one with me, Iggie. I want you to go out to Bangkok with the Noth report and deliver it to Suriyothai. Lillith has your tickets. Spending more money on Pan American’s clipper service has broken her heart, but we’ve got no choice at this time. I need you back here as soon as Snake has that report.”
“No time for shopping?” Igrat sounded heartbroken as well.
“None. Not this time. Straight in and out. If you can fit a shopping expedition in between flights, do so, but don’t delay getting back here. No ‘missing the plane’ and ‘getting the next one out’.” Stuyvesant picked up the cavity magnetron and twisted it around in his hands. “I wonder why Samuel Colt didn’t think of this.”
With nine hours difference between Canberra and Cairo, there was a tendency for things to turn up at awkward hours. Annoying as that might have been, when dispatches from home did arrive during business hours it was usually a good indication of trouble. Trouble was all Lieutenant-General Thomas Blamey could see in this latest communication from his Government. After an hour’s solid contemplation and a telephone call, he summoned his staff car and left word to inform GOC-in-C Middle East Command to expect him forthwith.
Archibald Percival Wavell, General Officer Commanding in Chief of His Majesty’s forces in Egypt, Sudan, Trans-Jordan, Palestine, British Somaliland, Cyprus, Aden, and the Persian Gulf, who’s concerns extended to Libya, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Greece, Rhodes and such trifles, was waiting on the front steps when Blamey’s car rolled up. Admittedly, he was as surprised to see the Australian as Blamey was to be met in person. Blamey had just swept up the drive when another General, Major-General George Noble Molesworth, alighted from another staff car.