“I think you had better start from the beginning,” Kruze said.
He kept it simple. There was no need to tell the Rhodesian too much. He told Kruze about Archangel and its architect. He explained how he might be a maverick, but then again he might not, that there was no way of checking if Shaposhnikov had the backing of Stalin and the Stavka. He told him that they were on their own, American support had been vetoed, because their allies’ reaction might be wild and unpredictable. He said that it was imperative for Shaposhnikov to be removed, and that the instrument of his termination was to be a pilot, carefully chosen from the EAEU, who would fly a German aircraft at low-level through Soviet-captured territory and bomb Shaposhnikov at his HQ in Branodz, western Czechoslovakia. And finally he told him that there was no other way, because not only was it the best means of penetrating the Russian defences, it would also make Stalin believe that the assassination of his chief of the general staff at the front was a last desperate act of revenge by the Nazis. Status quo restored. No repercussions.
“And you want me to fly the plane,” Kruze said, without emotion. “What aircraft have you got in mind?”
“An Arado 234 Blitz jet bomber,” Fleming replied. “We want you to take it from the Luftwaffe’s base at Oberammergau, outside Munich, and fly it into Czechoslovakia.”
“You would have excellent back-up,” Staverton added, before Kruze could say anything. “Robert would be your co-ordinator, going with you into Germany until you cross their lines. Thereafter, you’d be assisted by an able German speaker, someone with great knowledge of the Nazi military. You have some German yourself, don’t you?”
“Some,” Kruze said.
“SOE have lined up a safe house for you in Munich, owned by the Jewish underground. You’d make your way there, lie low for a day while papers are being prepared for you and then move by night to the airfield. The shepherd, your German-speaking companion, would then get you into the base. The rest would be up to you.”
Kruze said: “You make it sound simple.”
“I’m not pretending it won’t be dangerous, but you will have good support every step of the way.”
“And this shepherd. How good’s he?”
“The best,’ Staverton said simply. “He’s English, but has infiltrated the German military before. Intelligence background.” He managed to keep his voice even. “Robert, perhaps you would care to outline the plan in a little more depth.”
“We have to move fast,” Fleming said. “The latest intelligence is that Shaposhnikov has left Moscow for Branodz — a little earlier than we expected. It’s possible that for reasons of security he has moved the plan forward. We’re going to hit him hard before he’s even had time to get his hands dirty at his field HQ. Your attack is set for dawn in two days’ time. We just have to pray the Russians do not move before then.”
“How do you know Shaposhnikov will be at his HQ when I go in?”
Fleming tapped the folder on his desk which contained Shaposhnikov’s translated text. “The Archangel battle plans state that following his arrival he will monitor the radio every morning at 0630 for coded progress reports from his commanders in the field. He’s keeping one channel free for half an hour to ensure that if they’ve got anything to say to him, they can get through. The only building with a transmitter powerful enough to reach his accomplices is the HQ. So, we’ve got him, as long as you hit him between 0630 and 0700.”
Kruze listened, knowing that Fleming had once more become the man that Penny had married. He could still detect the shadows of Fleming’s ordeal around the eyes, but the shaken, haunted man he had captured in his gun-cameras not so long ago was a rapidly fading memory.
“But first we have to get you to Germany,” Fleming continued. “Stabitz airfield is ideal. Just been captured by our forces marching on Munich. I’ll run over all the details there until you both know Guardian Angel by heart.”
“It sounds like I’m going whether I like it or not.”
“Not so,” Staverton said. “You will be free to choose, but please hear us out first.”
“You and the shepherd will then be dropped behind enemy lines by Auster the following dawn,” Fleming said. “I remain at Stabitz to co-ordinate between you and London.” It was not a part of the mission that he enjoyed dwelling upon. “You’re to make your way into Munich and contact a watchmaker named Schell, a member of the Jewish underground. He’s been alerted of your arrival — but not the purpose of your visit — by SOE. He’s arranging all the papers you will need to get through the checkpoints on the road to Oberammergau. He will shelter and feed you until nightfall when you will leave the city and make for the airfield. It’s not far.”
“Maybe,” Kruze said. “But papers or no papers, that place is going to be swarming with troops and my German isn’t good enough to get me past the first checkpoint, let alone into Oberammergau.”
Fleming held his hand up. “You’ve got to trust us,” he said. “You will be given papers that prove you are a Rumanian government official seeking transport out of Germany back to your country and that the shepherd, who will be masquerading as an Obersturmführer in the Waffen-SS, is your escort. The Wehrmacht is not going to brush with people like him, believe me.”
“Why Rumanian?”
“They’re still allies of Hitler—”
“And there aren’t that many Germans who speak Rumanian,” Staverton said.
Kruze lit a cigarette. “What then?”
“Once at Oberammergau, the shepherd will get you through the gates. The rest, as they say, is up to you.”
Kruze smiled and let out a stream of smoke. “For a moment there you almost talked me into this thing. But do you seriously think I can walk up to a 234, conveniently bombed up and ready to go, and take off into the blue? I wouldn’t get within a hundred yards of one of their aircraft.”
“This is no suicide mission,” Staverton said. “There will be a diversion to enable you to take your aeroplane unchallenged.”
Fleming put his notes down. “Yes, at first light, the RAF will mount a strike against the airfield. The pilots will be told to leave the aircraft, just go for buildings and personnel. In all the confusion, you’ll be able to steal your Arado.”
“Next stop, Branodz,” Kruze said. “As simple as that. I think I prefer next stop Waterloo Station and a train back to Farnborough. You’ve got to be mad if you think that this is actually going to work.”
“It can if you’ll be the pilot,” Staverton said.
Kruze banged his fist on the table. “This isn’t just about flying an aeroplane, Air Vice Marshal. It’s a fucking long way from gun-cameras and cosy post-mortems—”
“The shepherd can take care of the rest,” Staverton said.
“What if I say no?”
“That will be your privilege.”
“And a transfer to Coastal Command to wash seagull shit off Sunderlands for the rest of the war.” Kruze breathed deeply. “I read you like a book, Staverton. You extract loyalty from people around you and then spit it back in their faces when it suits you. You’re loving every minute of this, because it’s a big game, except you’ve got real lives as the pieces on the board.”
Kruze suddenly felt as if he were poised above the eye of the storm. He was looking down at a place at the centre of the vortex where all was still, where Penny was calling his name but Fleming was answering. Chief Broyles, somewhere on the edge, was holding Billy’s hand and a long way away there was Staverton, the puppeteer, watching them and doing nothing.