“Enough,” Hanover said calmly. “Major, continue.”
“The Turks basically want us to help defend them against a German or Soviet offensive, rearm their army with modern weapons, give them economical support as the Germans will cut off their exports, accept their exports without tariffs and, most important, get rid of the Germans to the south.”
“Dear God, it’s like dealing with the French,” McLachlan said. “Charles, how much of that demand are we going to laugh at?”
There were some chuckles. “We’re going to have to help them defend themselves,” Hanover said. “As for re-arming them and giving them economic support, they can prove themselves first. General?”
“The 1st Marine Division has been dug into Istanbul,” Cunningham said. “Thanks to the RAF, it should be at least a week before the Germans can launch a counter-attack, which will give us time to establish the follow-up forces on the eastern side of the Sea of Marmara. Whatever the Turkish position – and I’m certain that they’ll demand that we liberate their western countrymen – we can prevent resupply, unless the Russians ship supplies to the Germans.”
Stirling nodded. “Rommel wants to wait a day, and then launch the offensive,” he said. “Apparently, that would be long enough for General Guderian to realise how hopeless his position is – as you know, Rommel’s plan was to try to convince them to come over to our side en masse.”
Hanover nodded. “He got this much right,” he said. “We’ll trust him a little further.” He looked around the room. “Any other business?”
General Eisenhower coughed. “There was an attack on New York,” he said. “You made certain guarantees to us – are they to be honoured?”
Hanover scowled. He’d hoped to discuss this in a private setting. “You refer to the attack on New York, which was done by a weapon of mass destruction,” he said, reminding everyone what the stakes were. “Opinions?”
“We are obliged to reply with a nuclear warhead,” McLachlan said, picking up his role perfectly. “There seems to be no doubt, but it was Stalin and his evil empire that launched the attack on New York.”
Barton coughed loudly. “How can we be certain of it?” He asked. “Could it not be Hitler pretending to be Stalin?”
Bastard, Hanver thought coldly. He might have shared Barton’s doubts, but it suited him to blame Stalin. “The blast was centred on a Soviet ship,” he said, repeating what he knew Barton already knew. “The weapon – an entire ship stuffed with explosives – came from Russia.”
“President Truman” – there was a slight sensation around the room as that news sunk in – “has formally declared war on Russia,” Eisenhower said. “This war is very popular and demanded in Congress; New York’s senators were very keen on it. The death toll is believed to be over one hundred thousand.”
There were sounds of horror. “The President has demanded, under the Weapon of Mass Destruction Protocols of the Anglo-American alliance, that you target a Russian city in revenge,” Eisenhower said. “This strike must be punished.”
There was a long uncomfortable pause. Barton broke it. “General… do you have any idea of the suffering a single nuclear weapon can inflict?” He asked. “We are talking about a crime without peer in this new world.”
“We have been hurt badly,” Eisenhower snapped, rounding on Barton. “We are asking you to keep your agreements.”
Hanover scowled at Barton. Not going to make this easy, are you? He thought coldly. “General, we made an agreement,” he said. “We have a target which will also be of prime importance for Redemption.”
He nodded at Stirling, who altered the display. “This is the main Russian supply centre and reinforcement centre,” Stirling said. “At this point, they run out of their main railway lines and have to cut down, a problem made worse by our attacks on their lines of supply. There are upwards of a million Russian soldiers here, along with some of their latest construction in armoured vehicles.”
Hanover nodded. “While this base lacks a civilian population, it is also the centre of operations for ethnic cleansing operations, as the Russians know that the Chechens will pose a threat to their empire in the future. If this base is destroyed, the Russian forces in the Middle East will be forced to fall back on their own resources, rather than pressing onwards in alliance with the Germans.”
He thought rapidly as Eisenhower considered it. He had wondered if Redemption could be expanded, but had thought better of it. As it was, there were far too many weak places in Redemption for a chess grandmaster to be comfortable with, and there was no opposition figure like Rommel for the Russians. Trotsky was a possibility, but he was needed in Moscow.
“You will not hit one of their cities,” Eisenhower said flatly. “The President will be most upset.”
“The President would be more unhappy when history blames him for the strike,” Noreen Adam pointed out wryly.
“History is in the future and dry dusty books,” Eisenhower said. “I assume that we can count on your help to develop our own nuclear weapons?”
“We already have an agreement along those lines,” Hanover said, knowing that it had already been broken. “Those are matters for me to discuss with the new President, once he’s settled in to his office and cleaned up the place.”
Eisenhower nodded. Patton had been ordered to send back several infantry divisions – the screaming had almost been heard in London – and operations in Norway had been suspended for the time being. British air raids were keeping the Germans from getting frisky again, but everyone knew it was just a matter of time before the Germans and the Russians forced the Swedes into the Axis.
“Then the Russian target will at least punish them,” Eisenhower said. “Thank you.”
Hanover scowled. “I wish I could say that you’re welcome,” he said. “Kenneth?”
Barton scowled at him. Hanover understood; the Liberal Democrats would be tarred with the same brush. Even if Barton made a real fuss, he would still be blamed – at least partly – by some of his party’s extremists.
“I wish it wasn’t necessary,” Barton said, and paced out of the room as the meeting broke up. Hanover chucked once to himself, and then went to order the nuclear strike.
“It’s about to get very hot in Russia,” he muttered to himself. “And now we’re dependent upon a German to pull off a great victory. What has the world come to?”
Chapter Forty-Three: The End of the Affair
Zek Base
Nr Grozny, Chechnya
29th June 1941
It was called Zek Base by its workers, the thousands of unfortunates who had been condemned by future history; a massive complex for servicing an advancing Russian army. The Zeks, the slave workers, would do the work, while the NKVD carried out its mission in Chechnya, exterminating the native population. Thousands had been enslaved and forced to work to death, blasting the roads and rail lines through the Caucuses and creating a logistics framework that provided Zhukov’s army with supplies and new regiments. Thousands of soldiers were based there, awaiting their passage down to Iran, or on leave enjoying the minuscule comforts of Zek Base. The only thing the base had was enslaved women for prostitution, but Zhukov had insisted; leave was apparently good for the enlisted men.
After all, the future said so.
The Trident warhead detonated over Zek Base at midnight, a time chosen with malice aforethought. Microseconds after it had detonated, the expanding fireball ravaged over the base, literally wiping it from the face of the Earth. Russians, slaves, Zeks… all perished in the blast. Although the supply lines didn’t entirely depend upon Zek Base, Zhukov’s army had suddenly lost most of their stockpile in one massive explosion.