The rewards for Cole’s service, however, had been considerable. The other day he had gotten a clap on the back from Commander Harry Hamilton, Royal Navy Intelligence Operations, Coastal Command, and his immediate superior.
“Excellent job,” Hamilton had said. “Damn fine analysis.” That was when the slap on the back came. “Learning a bit, are we?” Hamilton had continued, hardly waiting for an answer. “Brilliant idea, this exchange. Americans observing how we do things. The only way to gain experience. Good thing, too. We’ll all be in it soon enough. Together again against the Hun, as it were.” Then Hamilton had decided to address the delicate issue of Cole’s temperament. “See here, Cole, you came with a bit of baggage, if you know what I mean. Must have been some bad blood back home, but let bygones be bygones, I always say. Carry on with the same spirit you’ve shown us and things will look up for you.”
Cole straightened several of the photographs and planted his hands on the table, peering at the images. His eyes traveled over the black-and-white landscape, almost willing them to assume three-dimensional form, for valleys to sink, mountains to rise, seas to run in some sort of lazy motion under the watchful gaze of drifting clouds. He watched as details emerged from backgrounds to become things. Other times they buried themselves in shadows offering only questions. Is that a bridge? Are there two destroyers in that fiord?
“What is so important about Leka Island?” Cole asked the photographs.
“How’s that, sir?” Markley said, papers in hand.
Cole straightened. “Find anything yet? About Leka?”
“Yes, sir,” Markley said, handing a report to Cole. “N-for-Nancy. Coastal Command Hudson that went out several days ago, sir.”
Cole took the report and quickly scanned it. He found the section marked Enemy Defenses. He read it carefully. He sensed Markley standing by expectantly. “Come here,” he said to the petty officer. Markley followed him around the table to a light board covered with photographs, mounted on the wall.
“Hit the switch,” Cole ordered, motioning to a wall mount. Markley did and the board flickered to life, the photographs glowing from the soft aura of the light behind them. “All of these are photographs of Leka Island,” he said, “which is really a collection of islands. This large island” — he pointed to a photograph — “and this grouping of islands.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take that glass” — he pointed to a stereoscope on the table — “and look over these photographs.”
“Yes, sir,” Markley said hesitantly. Cole knew that Markley was old-sailor enough to be wary of an officer trying to entrap him. Even if he were only a Yank. Cole smiled to himself — they had the same kind of petty officers in the United States Navy.
After several minutes Markley turned to Cole.
“Well?” Cole said.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but I’m not entirely certain—”
“Just tell me what you see.”
Markley took a deep breath. “Well, sir. Nothing. Some little squares and a thread or two, but if there is anything there, it’s well hidden.”
“Those are buildings. The squares. The threads are roads. But you’re right. There is nothing else on Leka Island or around Leka Island worth a damn.”
“Yes, sir,” Markley said, relaxing.
“If that’s the case, Petty Officer Percival Markley, former gunner’s mate of the watch aboard His Majesty’s Ship Nelson, why do the Germans care so much about it?”
“Sir?” Markley said.
“N-for-Nancy made two flights over Leka Island. These photographs are the result of the first mission. I got a call from one of the base officers wanting to know if anything turned up because, as he put it, ‘Our chaps had a most unfortunate go of it.’ I told him that we didn’t find a thing but to be sure, could he schedule another mission? He did and this After Action Report is from the second mission. No photographs will be forthcoming because the plane had to jettison the cameras. Along with just about everything else.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yeah,” Cole said. He reached around Markley and turned off the light. “Percival,” he said to the petty officer, “there’s not a goddamned thing on those islands except some old fishermen’s shacks and a couple of dirt roads, but when a reconnaissance plane shows up all hell breaks loose. They don’t want us to see something. Whatever is there and however it is skillfully camouflaged, the Krauts are afraid that we’ll figure it out. They don’t want us anywhere near Leka Island. Why do they care so much for a bunch of rocks in the middle of nowhere?”
“That’s a question for a better brain than mine, I’m afraid, sir.”
“Yeah,” Cole said, thinking. “Mine, too, except…”
“Yes, sir?”
“I sure hate to give up on something when I smell a rat. And I smell a very large German rat. Get me?”
“No, sir, I’m afraid that I don’t.”
“We’ve found the hornets but not the nest.”
“I see what you’re getting at, sir. Things don’t add up. Still, begging your pardon, maybe we ought to shift from port to starboard.”
“Go on.”
Markley tapped his index finger against his chin as he studied the photograph. “What isn’t there, sir? Barracks, antiaircraft batteries, gun emplacements. Everything that the Coastal Command chaps claim is making their life miserable.”
“No,” Cole said. “I saw three emplacements along a ridge.”
“Yes, sir. Three emplacements. But those chaps are talking about a dozen or more guns. I know guns, sir. As good as any seaman afloat. I didn’t see them, sir. Big or small, I—”
“I’ll be a ringtailed bobcat,” Cole said. “I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Where the hell are the other guns?”
“Not your fault, sir,” Markley said, without emotion. “We all make mistakes, now and again.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Markley,” Cole said. “But why bother? Why defend this island in the middle of nowhere at all? There’s more here than meets the eye. They’ve got to go back over Leka, Markley.”
“I’m afraid that you’re going to make some Coastal Command blokes very unhappy, sir.”
“It can’t be helped. The answer is down there somewhere. I’m going to find it.”
“If you don’t mind, sir. It’s customary at times such as this to toast brave men. The Coastal Command chaps, I mean, sir.”
“It is, is it?” Cole said, certain that the tradition was newly minted by the thirsty petty officer. “Okay, go ahead.”
Markley held up the fifth that Cole had thrown him earlier. “To the good health of the poor bloody bastards that will have to go take its picture again. May God grant them a safe flight and speedy return with everything in its proper place and functioning as the Almighty intended.”
“You just want an excuse to take another snort.”
“Nothing of the sort, sir,” Markley said, without cracking a smile as the whiskey burbled into his glass.
Chapter 4
Cole threaded the little MG through piles of rubble in the street, stopping occasionally as work crews loaded the remnants of people’s belongings in lorries and horse-drawn wagons. He tried not to stare. It was impolite somehow to watch families scour what they could from shattered buildings that had once been their homes. A lifetime of things, photographs, books, records, and furniture… What if I lost all of my books? he had once asked himself. He preferred not to think of it. Besides the books, his collection of records was the only thing he had that he cared for, his music, and then he realized that they were inanimate objects. No one to care about, he thought. Perhaps that was just as well.