It had taken General Student nearly twenty minutes to collect together a scratch force of German and Italian soldiers, and ten more minutes to confirm the sheer devastation of the British attack. Of the ten thousand troops he was supposed to have, nearly half of them had been killed and more wounded by the attack. He allowed the seriously wounded what medical care he could, while press-ganging the remainder into the defence force.
He watched grimly as the British battleships plastered Sphakia with blast after blast from their main guns. It had been one of his main defensive positions, but after the missile attack there was hardly anything left of the defences, but the British had no way of knowing that. Explosions walked all over the town and shattered it, bit by bit.
“They’re on their way,” Rottenfuehrer Krause muttered, as the shape of landing craft began to appear out of the smoke. They were odd vehicles, some were normal boats, others seemed to move above the water, driving right onto the beaches before their crew jumped out, weapons ready.
“Just get comfortable, you Tommy bastards,” Student muttered. The black-clad British moved carefully among the town, perplexed by the lack of resistance, landing more and more troops until they had spread all over the town. As he watched, they formed up into groups and slipped carefully up towards the radar station, high on the hills. Time passed, and then…
“Fire,” Student snapped, firing madly with his weapon. The others joined in, pouring fire down on the British. Two British collapsed… and then crawled back, sparks spewing from their armour. “What the hell?”
“Bullet-proof armour,” Rottenfuehrer Krause said. He sounded fascinated. “It’s supposed to be able to stop bullets. Aim for the head.”
“Jawohl,” Student muttered, as a black sphere flew through the air towards their position. Student had only seconds to realise that it was a grenade, before the world went away forever.
Brigadier Hampton had been expecting a harder fight, but the Germans seemed to have been broken by the air strike. Most of the defenders were Italian and they were more than willing to surrender, once the SS officers had been killed. Indeed, more than a few of them shot their SS ‘allies’ and surrendered.
The German base, he had to admit, was better organised than a Jihadi base; it was neater and generally more military. His gaze swept across primitive radars, radios, maps and…
“What the hell is that?” He demanded.
“It looks like a radar set, Brig,” one of his men said. Private Clough examined it thoughtfully. “Brigadier, its one of our sets.” He pointed at a bullet hole in the machine. “It’s useless now, it won’t work.”
Hampton glared at him. “That’s not the point,” he said. “The question is; where the hell did it come from?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Reactions Upon Reactions
Ten Downing Street
London, United Kingdom
29th May 1941
Hanover stared down at the images, relayed by the investigative team. Doctor Antoinette Stancil looked nervous and her voice shook; she hadn’t expected to be on the forefront of high politics and treason. As an expert in World War Two technology, her speciality hadn’t had any relevance – until they’d found themselves back in 1940.
“Explain it to me again, Doctor,” he said, more for the benefit of McLachlan, who’d just entered the room, than himself. “Exactly what have you found?”
“It’s a passive sensor suite,” Stancil said. Her voice shook again. “It’s a commercial system, one built in 2013 for ships sailing through Indonesian waters, which as you know…”
“Were almost less safe than they are at the moment,” Hanover said. “It’s definitely one of ours?”
Stancil nodded, trying hard not to show any contempt. Hanover understood; it had been a question born of desperation. How could the Germans have built it?
“I’m afraid so,” she said. “That’s really all I can tell you, but you’ll have my full report at the end of the day.”
“Thank you,” Hanover said, and cut the video link. “Explain.”
Anna Hathaway, the Home Secretary, coughed grimly. Behind her, MI5’s duty officer winced. “It came from America,” she said. “We got the serial numbers and compared them to the lists of devices sent aboard. This one, PSS4373-463-376373, was sent to America and was reported destroyed in a warehouse fire in January.”
Hanover sucked in his breath. “What else was in the warehouse?”
“Several more of them, some commercial-grade radars, and several computers designed to crack encryptions,” the MI5 officer said. David Berrios, a Jamaican who spoke perfect Cockney, scowled. “We must assume that all of them are in German hands.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Hanover said. “So… how the hell did the Germans get their hands on it?”
Berrios coughed. “I have been running an investigation into it,” he said. “The device in question was transhipped via the Bracken Consortium, which owned the warehouse. Sir, the person in charge of their activities over there is Jim Oliver, who you may remember was quite a celebrity some time back.”
“He was released by the Germans, wasn’t he?” Hanover said, and then he swore. “Perhaps we should have looked more carefully at him.”
“Perhaps,” Berrios said. “However, your predecessor was keen on making a public impact, and then, as you know…”
Hanover nodded. Prime Minister Smith had suffered a number of heart attacks. The last one, six months ago, had killed him. Hanover couldn’t bring himself to feel regret; Smith wouldn’t have had the imagination to see how to use the Transition to Britain’s best advantage.
“That he was a prisoner of the Germans doesn’t prove anything,” Hathaway said. “He was very vocal on the need for war when he was interviewed by that wretched Stewart woman.”
“Yes, the one who broadcast the claim that Norway was independent before the Americans landed,” Hanover muttered. “Yes, it could have been someone within his organisation, but he is the most likely suspect. Someone in his place could have told them anything.”
McLachlan snorted. “He didn’t let on about the Norway attack,” he said.
“If he knew,” Hanover said thoughtfully. “I wonder…”
“Sir, may I continue the investigation of Mr Bracken?” Berrios asked. “There are still a lot of unanswered questions…”
“Yes, please do,” Hanover said absently. “One thing; this is not to be mentioned to anyone without my prior authorisation, understand?”
“You’re not going to drop a hammer on him?” Hathaway asked afterwards. “In his position, he could be slipping the Germans anything, from missiles to nuclear science.”
“Perhaps,” Hanover said. “Rule something or other of intelligence; never cut off a conduct, on the grounds that its better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. Given how important he had made himself to the Americans, we can’t simply summon him home and throw him out of the nearest window.”
“I would have expected the BNP to be very keen on aiding the Germans,” McLachlan said. “I wonder if Oliver is a member.”
“That would explain a lot,” Hanover said absently. His mind was considering something else. “This does give us some extra options.”
“I still think that we should shut him down as fast as possible,” McLachlan said. “What about…?”