“It was a Cabinet decision,” McLachlan said. “We have to balance priorities…”
“I ordered it,” Hanover said. “I understand your concerns; Major Stirling was very clear on the subject. On the other hand, we need to be able to buy American resources, and we need to provide jobs for the workers who would otherwise suddenly become unemployed. Now, is there any other matter before we move onto the final item?”
“I believe that this is a new first for a Liberal Democrat,” Barton said, “but why not just drop the bomb?”
Stirling lifted an eyebrow. “We seem to have this argument from time to time,” Hanover said. “If we blast Germany now, we will have uprisings, counter-uprisings and God only knows what else in Europe, Stalin will roll over the border, and we might have to face a communist Europe. Now, I will not permit their use.”
“There is also the danger of German biological weapons being used against us,” Barton said. “Can we handle such an attack?”
Hanover nodded to Stirling. “The research establishment at Porton Down, which as you know handles pre-emptive biological weapons counter-research, is confident that we can handle an outbreak,” Stirling said. “The sudden loss of most of the fuel supply from the Middle East has limited population movement, so a panic would not be as fatal as the worst-case scenarios suggested. In addition, we have details of the German research and curing infected people would not be a supremely difficult task.
“The Oversight Committee, however, believes that we should quietly warn the Germans – they must know about our nukes – that we will employ the nukes if they attempt to use biological weapons against us. This has a precedent in 1991; President Bush and Prime Minister Thatcher warned Saddam Hussian that any use of biological weapons would draw a nuclear response. President Bush II later warned Iran and North Korea that they would suffer a similar fate if they attempted to use Weapons of Mass Destruction against allied forces.”
Stirling coughed. “We cannot be certain that Hitler will be deterred, but perhaps we can appeal to the rational elements of the German Armed Forces.”
“A sensible idea,” Hanover said. “Perhaps Ernst Schulze can work it into his propaganda speeches.” He scowled. “Which brings us nicely to the final matter; that damned reporter.”
“Unfortunately, Baron Edmund has worked up a lot of support from the press establishment,” the Press Secretary said. “Although it is sheer lunacy…”
“Quite so,” Hanover snapped.
“They are unwilling to let this opportunity go past without a fight,” the Press Secretary said. “A chance to interview Adolf Hitler would make someone’s career.”
“And cost them their life,” Hanover said. He grinned. “A neat way to improve the race, I fear.”
Stirling winced. “I must protest,” he said, knowing that he was talking way above his pay grade. “If she should be captured, her producers would put pressure on us to rescue her, and her equipment could be of inestimable value to the Germans.”
“They have agreed to waive any question of legal responsibility,” the Press Secretary said. “The Germans have agreed, I suspect reluctantly, and all she needs is our permission.”
Hanover glared down at his hands. “There are conditions,” he said finally. “The equipment she takes with her – and that of any assistants – is to be rigged with a self-destruct system, and some handy spyware. She is to be inserted into Sweden and the Germans can pick her up from there. Nothing is to fall into German hands. Finally, I want it clearly understood, and publicly stated, that there is no guarantee of a rescue mission if everything goes pear-shaped. If she gets killed on German soil, its her problem.”
“I believe that they understand that,” the Press Secretary said.
“Make certain of it,” Hanover said.
Stirling’s pager buzzed and he glanced down at the message. “Sir, please could I display a picture from the SAS recon unit in France?”
Hanover nodded; Stirling displayed a picture of an instantly-recognisable man from history, standing in a French garden. He was clearly a prisoner; SS troops followed him everywhere.
“Is that…?” Hanover asked. “Could it really be him?”
“It seems so,” Stirling said. “They’re requesting permission to perform an extraction.”
Hanover grinned. “See to it,” he said. “This could be the break we’ve been waiting for.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Vatican Rocked
The Vatican
Rome
12th September 1940
Father O’Reilly paced the luxurious rooms that he’d been given and wondered when the Holy Father would accede to his request for a personal meeting. He’d taken five days to reach Rome, passing through countless German checkpoints with the help of a friendly – and very anti-German – Italian priest, but, once he’d explained his mission, the Vatican had given him the rooms, and left him to cool his heels for five days.
At least they took the material, Father O’Reilly thought, and wondered if it had been a bad idea to bring it. Pope Pius didn’t have the best of reputations; history had judged him as the man who could have averted the Holocaust with a word, and he’d done almost nothing. Absently, he tapped the sophisticated communications system he’d brought with him; he was still in communication with the Emergency Catholic Council in Britain. It had taken nearly a week for some of the implications to sink in – and, unlike the Muslims, we lacked an up-and-coming young man willing to beard the lion in his den, he thought sourly.
The basic problem facing the Emergency Catholic Council had been simple. Quite apart from the basic questions of original sins that had never been committed by a person alive in 1940, there were questions of Church doctrine at stake. The good news about the Transition, as Shahan McLachlan had discovered, was that it put more bums on pews. The bad news was that differences between the 1940 Church and the 2015 Church were pronounced – and Father O’Reilly was from a very different Church. Indeed, one suggestion – from a Protestant – was that the entire 2015 Church would be excommunicated at once the very moment the Pope heard what had happened.
Father O’Reilly shook his head and wandered over to the windows. The hand of Germany was light upon most of Rome, but the Vatican was always guarded by a group of SS troopers. How would they react to the news of thousands of scandals in the Church’s later history? What would the population of Europe say to the abusive priests? Would the Church survive the loss of a large portion of its believers?
Like many other religious people, Father O’Reilly had confronted inner demons and doubts, emerging stronger than he had been before. That was an individual action, however; how would Pius react to the news of the future changes in the Church? No one in the Vatican had ever heard of the Vatican II rulings, let alone the Vatican III declaration of 2010. In Britain – and to a far greater extent in the future America – Mass was no longer given in Latin, and there were subtle differences in many other aspects. Vatican III, furthermore, had authorised the use of contraceptives, passed under the force of many non-governmental organisations demanding change in Africa.
And, of course, many people considered the Pope an irrelevance, at best.
Father O’Reilly understood, as well as anyone could, the stakes involved for the Church. The Pope could declare Vatican II and Vatican III to be hearsay, threatening anyone who refused to return to the old ways with excommunication. The result, Father O’Reilly suspected, would be a sudden and alarming drop in Church attendance, and perhaps even a demand for independence from the Pope.