“We have to try,” he said, and scowled. “General, Major, draw up a deployment plan for my approval tonight.” He glanced at the clock. “Morning tomorrow, in fact,” he said, changing his mind. “John, stay a while.”
“Major Stirling was right,” Hanover said, after the meeting had concluded. “This is a joint plan.”
McLachlan nodded. “The Japanese are clearly up to something as well,” he said. “Unfortunately…”
“It will be at least three more days before the submarines arrive, and a week before the fleet arrives,” Hanover said. “The Germans are pounding the American-led convoys hard… damn it; why did they cut the Navy? We don’t have anything like enough fucking ships!”
“The good news is that America might enter the war,” McLachlan said. “The propaganda, our technology, and the clashes between German and American vessels in the Atlantic… and if the Japanese attack the Philippines…”
“They won’t,” Hanover said dryly. “They won’t repeat the same mistakes again. That leaves us with the option of fighting to regain the Empire, or agreeing to Japanese and Soviet dominance of their respective areas. I bet you anything you want to put forward that the Germans are planning to land in North Africa again, once we’re distracted.”
“Impossible,” McLachlan said flatly. “They wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Hanover shrugged. “When has such considerations ever bothered Herr Hitler?” He asked. “They’re trying to grind us down, John, and they might just succeed.”
McLachlan grinned. “We could always blow up the Axis and call it a draw,” he said.
“Don’t even joke about that,” Hanover snapped. “We need the Americans in the war.”
Chapter Thirty-Six: Reagan’s Ghost
Ronald Reagan Airport
Nr Washington DC, USA
19th September 1940
Ambassador King knew that both the Secret Service and the President’s medical advisor had advised against the trip to Ronald Reagan Airport, which had now been formally dedicated by the actor himself. He thought that having an airport named after him a fine idea, and few people had had the heart to object. Colonel Palter was delighted with the success; Reagan II, as the future Americans thought of it, would have kilometres upon kilometres to expand into, and the Future Embassy held enough land to build a second airport in California. Martin Luther King Airport was under construction, ringing the world in jet airports. When the war began, there would be a second line of airports to Australia.
He nodded politely to Ambassador Quinn, who was staring at the British-built equipment that had been torn from a British airport and transported across the Atlantic under heavy escort; one of the handful of British frigates had even been detailed to escort the American ship. The United States Navy had become more and more involved in the Battle of the Atlantic; losses had been taken and war had been threatened. Hitler, who correctly realised that no submarine would be successful against a modern British ship, chose to concentrate on the older Contemporary ships, including the ones under American control.
”I can’t wait to see this,” Roosevelt said. The large passenger jet, one of a handful of RAF transports, would not be the ‘first’ aircraft to cross the Atlantic by any means, but it would be making the trip with an ease that no Contemporary aircraft could show. King smiled; the President was almost child-like in his enthusiasm. The undeclared war was taking a toll on him, and it was good to relax for a while.
“The aircraft is called a Tristar,” Quinn said. He seemed amused by Roosevelt’s delight. “It’s a personal transport, carrying representatives from the Government and the trading parties. While it isn’t supersonic, it can carry its passengers in relative comfort, and the Germans cannot hope to intercept it.”
“Just as well, young man,” Roosevelt said. He peered into the darkness as one of the ex-USAF men – now discovering that their skills made them far too important to be allowed to fly again – started to operate the air traffic control system. The 1940’s United States possessed considerable private air traffic; King foresaw a considerable trade in compact radar systems.
“United Kingdom One, you are cleared to approach,” the controller said. Roosevelt looked up as the noise of a jet engine split the sky; King found himself wishing that the 2015 administration had seen fit to station some of the F-22s in the United Kingdom. Now they would have been impressive, if the British hadn’t grabbed them for their own air defence.
“Wow,” Roosevelt breathed. The Tristar could be seen dimly in the gloom; flickering lights in the sky. It took on shape and form as it roared down and landed neatly on the runway, the first aircraft to land properly on Reagan Airport. The plane taxied to a stop and a ladder was moved quickly into place as the hatch hissed open. A dark-haired man, Hanover, appeared in the hatch and waved to Roosevelt, before climbing down onto the ground. Roosevelt ignored his doctor’s mutterings and wheeled his wheelchair forward, moving to meet the British Prime Minister. King followed him at a discrete distance, smiling a welcome.
Hanover had wanted to send McLachlan, or one of his deputies, but the meeting was too important to allow a flunky to mess it up. Prime Minister Churchill had developed a close relationship with Roosevelt; it was no exaggeration to say that the future of Britain might depend on his ability to do the same.
He sucked in a breath as he saw Roosevelt. The older President reminded him of his grandfather; twinkling eyes which were fixed more on the aircraft than himself. His wheelchair squeaked as the President wheeled it towards him with the air of a man playing chicken.
“I’ve read a lot about you,” he said, knowing that there was a lump in his throat. He shook Roosevelt’s hand firmly; the President’s grip was strong and firm. “It’s a honour to meet you at last.”
“It’s a honour to meet you as well,” Roosevelt said. “I had quite a good rapport with Mr Churchill, who I understand is long dead in your time, and I look forward to carrying it on with you.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Hanover said. He shook hands with Ambassador King, noting with some relief that the black man had survived 1940s America. “I can’t wait to hear about everything that has happened here.”
He knew that he was babbling, his awe at meeting a modern legend pushing him forward, but Roosevelt didn’t seem to mind. “Right this way, then,” the President said. “We have a room set up for you and the party right here.”
“Excellent,” Hanover said, watching with some awe as Roosevelt propelled himself – waving away the offer of one of his guards to push him – across the field and into a large building. “You’ve accomplished a lot here,” he said to King, who smiled. “I’m quite impressed.”
“Labour is cheap in the depression,” King said. “The only problem was making it suitable for jumbo jets, so we thought we might as well start preparing for the 1980s at once. As you know, there were problems with improving the original airports around Washington; you could launch a stealth bomber from here if you had to. The airport will one day be capable of handing thousands of people per day.”
“It still seems amazing that people will want to travel in such numbers,” Roosevelt said. The President seemed amused by the concept. “Even now, we don’t have lots of people using the airlines, not when there are ships and trains.”