Stirling chuckled. “No one thought of that,” he said. “The point is to keep our technology out of their hands, and you will not be able to have more sent in, understand?”
Stewart glared at him. He wasn’t quite as attractive as she’d thought. “I’m not a child,” she snapped. “Do you seriously imagine that the Germans will be able to use my equipment to make the jump seventy years ahead?”
“I hope not,” Stirling said. “Point is; take care of your equipment.”
“I always do,” Stewart said. “Anything else?”
Stirling looked at her, meeting her eyes. “One of the ideas that we have – one of the fears we have – is that the Germans will simply add you to the hostages they already have, interrogate you, rape you, use you as breeding stock… all of those are possible.”
“People don’t treat reporters like that,” Stewart protested. “It’s unheard of… we walk through death and it never touches us…”
“Hitler has never heard of those rules,” Stirling pointed out dryly. “Understand, and this is the important part, anything you say or do within the territory that Germany – Hitler – controls may be used against you. If they think that you’re a spy, or worse, they’ll kill you outright and damn us to do anything about it, understand?”
Stewart nodded. “Then there is a second point,” Stirling said. “This is directly from the Prime Minister; if you do get into trouble, there will be no attempt to help you or to rescue you. We simply don’t have the asserts to risk extracting you under fire, understand?”
Stewart felt the first faint trickles of nervousness passing through her chest. “I understand,” she said finally. “I won’t need rescuing.”
“Sooner you than me,” Stirling said. “You do understand that anything you take with you will be examined before you board the aircraft?”
Stewart nodded. “I understand,” she said.
“Then good luck,” Stirling said. “I hope to see you back again; I have enjoyed watching you on TV.”
“Enjoyed watching me, or watching my chest?” Stewart asked, and laughed when he blushed. “It’s always nice to meet a fan.”
Chapter Thirty-Four: Freedom of the Press
German Embassy
Sweden
16th September 1940
Roth hadn’t been happy about being ordered to leave the vital nuclear research program and escort a female reporter from Sweden to Germany, but even the favourite of Henrich Himmler wasn’t allowed to question his orders. In the time of trouble, Himmler’s inner circle tended to grow smaller, and Roth had every intention of staying alive.
He scowled. He had nightmares, ever since reading the description of the final year of Nazi Germany, but he didn’t dream about that. Instead he dreamed of the uncovered reports of future traitors, wondering if one day he would see his own name on the screen. The German Ambassador had been more than happy to see him – or had at least managed a convincing façade – but it was a distraction. Sweden hadn’t been bombed, even the embassy had remained untouched, and he was envious. The room was well-lit, with bright colours and expensive wine, and he shrank from it.
“Herr Roth,” the Steward said, “please allow me to present Miss Kristy Stewart, of Britain.”
Roth lifted an eyebrow, feeling blood rushing down to his groin. The reporter was beautiful, dressed in a manner that would make a French prostitute blush, revealing far more leg and breast than Roth, who was unmarried, found comfortable. She was dressed to enchant, and Roth realised that she’d already enchanted the Ambassador.
“I trust that you slept well,” the Ambassador said, kissing her hand. She didn’t look charmed; Roth estimated that the Ambassador was old enough to be her grandfather and might well have been her grandfather. “We had the bed designed specially.”
For two people, no doubt, Roth thought, concealing a leer. Ambassador Von Hothan’s exploits among Swedish ladies were well known in Berlin. Himmler had openly wondered why Hitler hadn’t had him recalled and shot years ago, but Roth suspected he knew why; Ambassador Von Hothan was as meek and harmless as a lamb. He shook his head. There were many ways to die in Germany and underestimating the Fuhrer was one of them.
“I slept well, thank you,” Stewart said. Her voice was soft and warm. “I can’t wait to see more of Germany.”
Roth smiled; didn’t the girl know that she was in Sweden? From the report, the strange cross between an autogyro and a transport aircraft had landed in Sweden, tossed out the reporter and her cameraman, and lifted off again without waiting to be refuelled.
“Allow me to introduce you to SS-Standartenfuhrer Herman Roth,” Von Hothan said. “He will be your escort for your trip.”
Roth stood straighter as the girl examined him. Up close, the sheer… personality Stewart had was far stronger, he felt himself drawn to her. He wanted to impress her, he wanted to brush his blonde hair into shape, but he resisted, aware of her regard.
“A pleasure to meet you,” she murmured, and Roth felt his heart beat stronger. “When are we leaving for Germany?”
“You must stay and visit for a few more days,” Von Hothan said quickly. “There are so many sights to see…”
“Unfortunately, that won’t be possible,” Roth said firmly. “The agreement in which you will be transported safely across the Baltic to Germany is only open for this week.”
“I quite understand,” Stewart said. “I’m looking forward to working in Germany.”
Roth smiled wryly. “Perhaps,” he said, leading her away and ignoring Von Hothan’s protests. “Can you tell me more about yourself?”
“There’s not much to tell,” Stewart said, tossing her head. The effect was very distracting; Roth was starting to suspect that she did it on purpose. “I always wanted to be on TV, so I started training as an actor, but its… well, very sexist.” Roth lifted an eyebrow. “They take one look at your boobs, and then pat you on the back and give you lines. Should you grow old, they dump you.”
“I do not understand,” Roth said, wondering if his English would be easier to use. Stewart’s German was oddly accented. “It’s a short-term job?”
“Of course,” she said. “How many great actresses last past the first scandal? You say your lines, you don’t get any choice at all, and you wiggle your hips at every opportunity. And the minute you put on weight, someone fires you and replaces you with the next bimbo. At least as an interviewer, you get some respect.”
“I see,” Roth said, who didn’t. “Are you aware of your schedule?”
Stewart nodded. “I’m to interview Hitler…”
“The Fuhrer,” Roth snapped. “There are people who will object to such a disrespectful mode of address.”
”The Fuhrer,” Stewart said. “And then I’m to stay in Berlin, if you will allow me to do so.”
“Yep,” Roth said. “Are you ready to leave now?”
Stewart looked over at Von Hothan, who was watching her avidly. “Oh, yes,” she said. “When can we leave?”
House of Commons
London, United Kingdom
16th September 1940
Hanover had faced Parliament before, but there was a new tone in the air; the news of the fall of Gibraltar had shocked many. He shook his head as the next speaker pontificated; many of the speakers had considered abandoning the fortress back to the Spanish of 2015, despite the clearly expressed views of the population.