“So, it’s true,” Mayer said. His accent was harsher, more Prussian, than Schulze’s. “You are from the future.”
“I’m from the Germany of 2015,” Schulze said. “Do you have any idea of how much damage Hitler is going to do to Germany?”
Mayer, he was certain, had to be reeling inside. His voice remained calm. “The Fuhrer saved us from the humiliation of Versailles and has made us strong again,” he said. “I would never betray him…”
“Your nation – my nation – was crushed,” Schulze said. “Even today – in my time – we’re still suffering the after-effects of the war.” He glared at him. “We are unable to undertake an independent foreign policy without being accused of being Nazis,” he said. “We are too timid to send many troops outside Europe. We allowed Stalin to take over Eastern Europe; our economy is still fragile between him and the French. Any attempt to be realistic, to handle the problems of our immigrants, was decried as pro-Nazi – and there are some within our own government who would be delighted at bringing back some of the trappings of your era!”
“It seems like a display of sense,” Schulze said. He glared at Schulze. “According to Admiral Canaris, history will have been changed.”
“Yes,” Schulze said, knowing that Canaris would have been executed along with Mayer in 1944. “It has; the Kriegsmarine has been crushed already, only a handful of ships and u-boats survive. The air battle rages on and on, but the outcome is pre-ordained. You can no longer invade these shores and…”
Mayer smiled at him, a curious smile. “You are… happy about that,” he said. “Why?”
Schulze slammed his hand down on the table. “Your people, the Nazis, brought shame, dishonour and disgrace upon us,” he bellowed. “Do you have any idea at all how much damage will be done?”
“So you asked before,” Mayer said. “And now that history has been changed, will that damage be done?”
Schulze realised grimly that he’d underestimated Mayer. “Indeed,” Mayer continued, “this ‘July Bomb Plot’ may never happen. It might succeed, if it did happen. It might fail; there are no guarantees of anything now.”
“True,” Schulze said, through gritted teeth. “On behalf of the newly formed organisation handling German… visitors to the UK before we ended up here, I am informing you that we are not interested in returning to Germany. We have asked for asylum and the former Home Secretary informs me that there is a very good chance that it will be granted. Of nearly two thousand people, none wanted to return; got that?”
Mayer looked doubtful. “How do I know that you are telling the truth?”
“You’ll have to take my word for it,” Schulze snapped. “I have letters, statements and recordings from some of them for their families, if you want to take them back, but otherwise… oh, and do bear in mind that you either changed your position or the nazi regime executed you for nothing, but suspicion.”
With that, he stormed out, allowing the guard to close and lock the cell. His police escort fell in beside him as he walked as fast as he could away from the station, back to the Helipad. He’d once been angry when the Germans had been taken into protective custody, but that had been before Dover, before Germans were lynched on the street.
Jim Oliver had been in prison several times under several different names. Even with DNA testing, neither the American, Mexican or Brazilian Governments had realised that they were holding a former convict; and in the latter two cases, large bribes had ensured that all the evidence had been removed. For a prison – which it wasn’t – RAF Lyneham wasn’t bad at all, more like a hotel. He’d had a lobster takeaway the first night he'd spent at the base and the canteen was excellent.
After several days of debriefing – he’d been careful not to mention anything about his agreement to ‘assist’ the Germans – the interest had faded. He’d reassured them that the data he’d been carrying, the official information, would be useless to the Germans before 2015, and they’d been willing to accept that. They’d pressed him quite hard on information such as where he’d been kept and what the Germans might have had access to, but he’d played dumb and they’d seemed to have accepted it.
The emotional meeting with his sister and girlfriend – actually a representative of the group that he worked for – hadn’t gone badly. He’d reassured his ‘girlfriend’ that he would be up in Glasgow in time for a meal – a meeting with the directors – and that he had a lot to discuss with her. Once she’d left, he’d turned his mind to the real problem; smuggling the material out of Britain. Fortunately, he suspected he had at least part of an answer.
“De Valera, the Irish Prime Minister, announced today that despite the preparations to hand contemporary Northern Ireland over to Erie – approved today by Parliament – Erie would continue to remain neutral and host the German Ambassador,” the BBC announcer said. Oliver watched carefully as the reporter displayed a series of pictures. “Ambassador Eduard Hempel is reportedly part of a plan to destabilise Ireland – or was – but De Valera has refused to evict him and the Germans.”
Brave man, Oliver thought coldly. “The Prime Minister’s office hasn’t commented yet, but sources within the Foreign Office suggest that Ireland’s neutrality, recognised by all powers, is not infringed by Hempal’s presence. Despite that, under pressure from the Irish lobby, Parliament voted today to reopen tourist links to Ireland, under heavy regulations and control.”
A cough from behind him drew his attention back to the room. The RAF Colonel, the commander of the base, stood there. “Mr Oliver?”
“Yes,” Oliver asked. “What can I do you for?”
“Some decisions have been made,” the Colonel said. He smiled. “As it happens, both you and the children have been cleared to be released from the base; the children back to their relatives within the United Kingdom.”
Oliver smiled. “Don’t take it the wrong way, but I will be glad to leave,” he said, completely truthfully. “Colonel, what about the others?”
The Colonel’s expression tightened. “We’ve been trying to find them,” he said. “The bastards seem to have dispersed them all over Germany; we found one, but lost her again before a rescue mission could be mounted. They’re getting better at tracking down our ELINT drones, worse luck, and we’ve had to suspend strikes on their radar installations – we’ve been running out of radar-homing missiles.”
Oliver made a face. “They can’t get at us here?”
“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but we should be getting the first batteries of radar-guided guns in a week or so,” the Colonel said. “Once we have thousands of them ringing our cities, they won’t be draining our forces any longer.”
“That’s good news,” Oliver said. “Thank you for having me.”
“Cars and lorries are only running with government permission at the moment,” the Colonel said. “Apparently, we have some new oil coming in from the North Sea, but the sudden surge of oil wrecked a lot of equipment, and then we have to worry about escorting the tankers. Still, we’ll be flying you home in a RAF Tristar to Glasgow airport.”
He hesitated. “Some members of the Press would be very interested in your story,” he said. “We’ve kept your name confidential, but if you want to have ten minutes of fame…”