Heekin allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. De Valera was breathing hard, trying to pretend that he was blackmailed every second day, but Heekin could see through the pretence. “Don't worry,” he said, “you’re going to be a hero. You’re finally going to create the united Ireland you dreamed of, a richer nation that you ever could have imagined. The name Omagh means something to me, it will never to you.
“Now, sign, for Ireland!”
Hanover allowed himself a smile as De Valera signed the treaty. It had been a gamble, relying on Ambassador Heekin, but how many men were ever given the chance to meddle in the history of their own country?
“Thank you, Mr President,” he said, absently.
BBC Studios
London, United Kingdom
8th July 1940
A faint air of unreality had settled over the BBC and the other British news organisations. In one way, the… transition had helped the BBC; there were no longer any American channels beaming down to steal their viewers. On the other hand, the elaborate world service network of reporters had vanished. History programs – and episodes of Doctor Who – had become popular literally overnight; libraries were reporting record reservations for books on the Second World War.
“The Ministry of Defence confirmed today that the RAF struck a target in Occupied France,” Kristy Stewart said, as the red light came on. The backdrop, computer generated, displayed a map of France as it had been – was – in 1940. “The official statement confirmed that at least one British Airlines aircraft came down in France, and was discovered by the Germans. The crew and passengers must be considered prisoners of the Nazis; and the MOD has appealed for relatives of the passengers to contact them at once, contact details on their websites.
“There have been another run of suicides,” she said, as the backdrop changed to a house in Kensington. “A handful of American tourists, stranded well away from their families, committed suicide this morning. Their mother, described as a distressed person on therapy, apparently poisoned the entire family. Although the police are investigating, they believe that she was the sole agent and the case is not being treated as an unsolved murder enquiry.
“The handful of survivors of the holocaust and their relativities have been picketing the Houses of Parliament and demanding immediate action – up to and including the use of nuclear weapons – to end the holocaust before it has even fairly begun. Parliament remains in closed session, debating the legalities of a declaration of war, despite the fact that skirmishes have been occurring on a regular basis since transition.
The image shifted to a burned out street in Brixton. “The sudden freeze in all dole payments infuriated members of the poor and ethnic populations, who rioted against the government today. The Police, backed up by an army unit sent in under the invoked DORA act, crushed the rioters, who were arrested and jailed in temporary camps. While the Brixton MPs reportedly criticised the actions of the police, local community leaders applauded. A number of fundamentalist preachers of several different sects have been arrested and jailed.
“Although there have been some anti-conscription rumbles, the general mood on the street seems to be one of acceptance,” she said. “A large number of dolists have begun receiving basic army training at a training camp, and army spokesmen expect thousands more to begin in a week. For many of those young men, this will be their first taste of real discipline, to say nothing of good food and health care.”
The scene changed again; units of the royal navy were heading out to sea. “A Royal Navy task force, under Admiral Turtledove, has departed, apparently to make contact with contemporary British forces in the Mediterranean. This force, led by HMS Ark Royal, and including HMS Exeter, HMS Southampton, HMS Nottingham, HMS Portland and HMS St Albans, as well as several minesweeping and submarine vessels, will skirt German-held France and fascist Spain, before making contact at Gibraltar.”
She ran through the final item, a report on two of the crashed Germans being rounded up, before concluding with the weather report. As the theme tune for Eastenders – the plot writers hadn’t managed to alter the script to adapt to the new conditions yet – began to play, she turned to her producer, Baron Edmund.
“Sir,” she said, “I think that we should be taking more advantage of the situation.”
Edmund looked up at her. She’d often wondered if he was gay; he never seemed to react to her considerable charms. Most of the time, she enjoyed being treated as one of the guys, but when she wanted something, it was a pain.
“Like what?” He asked thoughtfully. “We don’t have a global network anymore, you know.”
Stewart nodded. “We have people alive today who died a long time before our industry was properly developed,” she said. “We could record their words for posterity.”
“Such as whom?” Edmund asked. “Who do you have in mind?”
Stewart grinned. “There are so many possibilities; Roosevelt, Truman, Wallace… Hitler, Stalin…”
“You want to interview Hitler? Stalin?” Edmund asked. “Are you crazy?”
“I’m sure that he will respect journalistic neutrality,” Stewart said.
“Well, I’m not,” Edmund snapped. “This isn’t a safe world; you don’t have the force of the military behind you, and the Foreign Office would never allow it!” He scowled. “For once I agree with them; Nazi Germany is not a safe place.”
“But you have friends, contacts, allies,” Stewart protested. “Boss, think of the ratings…”
“I’ll think about it,” Edmund said finally. Stewart grinned; she knew she’d won.
Chapter Eight: Felsennest
Felsennest
Germany
9th July 1940
Roth took a breath as the car pulled up inside the compound, the SS troops surrounding Felsennest – the headquarters of Adolf Hitler – carrying out a careful check on his documents. The beautiful house, set within the woods of West Germany, had been Hitler’s headquarters during the battles for France, and had been intended to serve as his base for the coming invasion of Britain.
Himmler himself had stepped out to meet him, saluting him with a brisk precision that seemed somewhat exaggerated. Roth saluted back smartly, then was surprised as Himmler extended a hand and shook it firmly.
“Reporting as ordered, Herr Reichsführer,” Roth said. “I have the document prepared for us by the black professor.”
“Excellent,” Himmler said. “Come with me, and we’ll discuss it inside.”
Roth saluted again and followed Himmler into a small chalet set near the main house. The SS guards were everywhere; he understood that Felsennest would make a very clear target for the super-planes that the future British could deploy. The attack on the remains of the British aircraft had been a very clear demonstration of their power, and their ability to find objects on the ground.
“It did not please the Fuhrer to lose the aircraft,” Himmler remarked conversationally as he led the way into his office. An SS guard checked Roth’s papers and took his sidearm, before leaving them alone together. “Indeed, he was quick to place blame on the Luffwaffe. Combined with the reports from the Encyclopaedia Britannica, our fat friend has been elevated to great heights while his subordinates do the real work. For the moment, control of all the future technology is firmly in our hands.”