Yurina felt a flicker of pity for the young officer, caught up in a web of politics that would have defeated an older man. Yamamoto had fought many battles with the army over the Naval Infantry, finally securing the right to command them as he saw fit. It was curious and part of her would have loved to have watched how it developed; no other country had such cooperation and enmity at the same time. They would have developed a civil war by now…
Only in Japan, she thought, as Commander Sato bowed and left the room. She watched as the door closed behind her, half-expecting to hear the lock click. It didn’t, but she might have well have been a prisoner anyway; the lower decks knew nothing about her and might have tried to use her. There were times when she heard the screams, drifting over the still waters, and she shuddered in the night.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, as the night grew darker around her. The bed was cold and hard. She knew she’d done the right thing, for the right reasons, but it wasn’t a consolation. For the first time since falling into bed with Yamamoto, she knew just how alone she truly was.
They should be able to save you soon, she thought, thinking about the poison. It was a common Japanese poison, but one that was only fatal in large doses. Yamamoto had only infested a small dose, just enough to make him ill – she hoped. She wouldn’t know for a week, after the fleet had sailed.
For the first time since she’d been a teenager and had her heart broken for the first time, Ambassador Yurina cried herself to sleep.
10 Downing Street
London, United Kingdom
16th May 1941
“Horton, Professor Adrian,” Stirling said. A picture of a middle-aged black man appeared on the screen. “Born, 1980, Edinburgh. Went to Boroughmuir High School then Cambridge, majoring in modern history and geopolitics. Wrote The Balance of Global Powers, a description of the war on terror, in 2004, at twenty-four. He followed this up with a series of books on World War Two, and married Jasmine Brocklewich in 2005.”
An image of Jasmine Horton, nee Brocklewich, appeared on the screen. “Two children, Stuart and Emma, and now a third if the video is telling the truth. Became interested in post-Holocaust history in 2010 and appealed to the German Government for release of some of their documents. The request was refused, and then refused again and again, and he went onto other sources until 2015, when some achieves were opened.”
“And that’s why he was on the plane?” McLachlan asked. “What’s he doing helping Hitler?”
“His wife and children are in German hands,” Stirling said. “Does he have a choice?” He coughed. “And besides, we have proof that he’s held against his will. Did you catch the people he named as examples?”
Hanover lifted an eyebrow. “Enlighten me,” he said. “Peaceniks from Iraq?”
“He said they were, yes,” Stirling said. “However, they weren’t; I looked the names up. Two of them were RAF servicemen who were supposed to have been captured and tortured during the Gulf War, the first one. Some of them were forced to broadcast messages from Baghdad, while Andy McNab claimed to have taken part in the Gulf War. Obviously, the first two weren’t there of their own free will.”
“And neither is Horton,” Hanover said. “Where is he?”
“In Berlin somewhere,” Stirling said. “Past that? We know he’s in a bunker somewhere, and he let slip that it was designed to survive a nuclear attack, but we don’t have a precise location.”
“And a rescue mission is out of the question,” Hanover said reluctantly.
“I’m afraid so,” General Cunningham said. “Berlin is a big place and we won’t have a target place to search.”
“So… how does this change our strategy?” Hanover asked. “How can this guy affect the course of the war?”
“I’m not sure,” Stirling admitted. “There was a historian called Tony Williams who wrote a book on the changes he would make to both sides, but God only knows how much of his advice Hitler is taking. The problem is that historians, the good ones at least, wonder endlessly about how they would have done things, were they in command at the time.”
“Wonderful,” Hanover said. “I suppose we’d better see to protection for the family.”
“Yes, sir,” Stirling said.
“Get the Oversight Committee working on what effects this may have,” Hanover ordered. “Now… Joan?”
“I received a FLASH signal from Admiral Turtledove a few minutes ago,” Admiral Grisham said. “The Australians have agreed to the plan for destroying both the Combined Fleet and the invading army.”
Hanover smiled wryly. “That’s good news,” he said. “Why can’t all my news be like this?”
“Because then we’d be lying to you all the time,” McLachlan said. He was the only person in the room who would have dared to say it. “Incidentally, Major Dashwood believes that we can launch the next satellites in a few more days. There’s three up now, and we’ll have five more in a month.”
“That’s better news,” Hanover said. “Incidentally, are the Germans doing anything in Norway that we ought to be alarmed about?”
“It’s hard to be certain,” Stirling said. “JARIC – the Joint Air Reconnaissance Intelligence Centre – has been charged with studying the imagery from the satellites. The Germans don’t seem to be moving more troops up north, but they have stopped the movement to the east. They must suspect something.”
“It’s not like there are many targets,” McLachlan said grimly. “The American Press has been speculating rather enthusiastically about a landing in Europe, and MacArthur has been ranting on about us trying to take over the world.”
“Poor man,” Hanover said. “It must be a nasty shock to know you had achieved your dream, and because of it you never would succeed. What’s he doing now?”
“We’re not certain,” McLachlan admitted. “Ambassador Quinn sent that MacArthur has offered himself to the Republican Party as a candidate for the next elections, in three years time. Given all the trouble in the United States, some Governor may snap him up as a National Guard commander, even though it might cause a mutiny.”
“Overrated crisis,” Hanover muttered. “John, keep an eye on the situation. The last thing we want is America leaving the war.”
“Of course, Charles,” McLachlan said. “For the moment, I’m fairly certain that the Republicans won’t touch him with a bargepole. It would be politically disastrous.”
“Now, Admiral,” Hanover said. “Is Admiral Turtledove ready?”
“He says that he’s as ready as he would be without making it obvious he’s ready,” Grisham said. “The fleet is fully loaded and warned that it might have to leave in a hurry.”
“Good,” Hanover said. “Now… all we have to do is wait.”
“And see,” McLachlan injected.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Deathcloud Rising
HIMS Yamato
Hashirajima, Japan
18th May 1941
In a very real sense, Admiral Chuichi Nagumo was Japan’s most successful commander of the war. While Kurita and Ozawa had been disgraced or killed in action, Nagumo could and did claim the victory of the Battle of Malaya, even though his ships had been driven off after a dual with Singapore’s main guns. After all, he had sunk three British ships.
Commander Sato watched as Nagumo issued his orders and felt his heart sink. Despite his work with the aircraft carriers between the wars, Nagumo had no… talent for carrier work. Unlike Genda or Yamamoto, Nagumo cared little for the flyers; he had wanted to use the carriers as battleships! Even though the carriers carried far more potent weapons in the form of their air wing, Nagumo had wanted to allow them to close with the enemy!