Henry Lewis Stimson, Secretary of War, shook his head. “Cordell Hull went to their Embassy yesterday,” he said. “They didn’t have the slightest idea that anything was up. None of our communication interceptions suggested that… this would happen.” He snorted. “They want to stay here,” he said. “They don’t want to face something back home.”
“Odd,” Truman said. He dismissed the thought. “What about the preparations for Europe, then?”
“We’re moving along the proper timescale,” Stimson said. “We can make the launch date.”
Truman nodded. “And the British have accepted our overall commander, with one of theirs in the main command role,” he said. “That should be good for us, whatever the outcome.”
“Politically, it would be good for us either way,” Bradley said. Truman, who knew that Bradley was a political general as well as a capable combat commander, nodded. A win would be credited to Eisenhower; a defeat could be blamed on Flynn. “However, the opening moves of the invasion would be a British operation. The potential for total disaster is low.”
Truman nodded. The British had war-gamed the entire battle. At worst, if the opening stages failed, only the first strike force – three thousand men – would be lost. A partial success – assuming that the Germans managed to bottle them up – could be developed into a real offensive or as an abscess on the German behind, depending on the entire situation.
He glanced up at Stimson. “What about the bombing offensive?”
“It’s been a partial success,” Stimson admitted. “The Germans have been careful about attempting to engage us, now that we’ve linked the bomber force’s defence weapons into the radar’s they carry. However, the Germans have been having some limited success at homing in on the radar, so…
“Unfortunately, they have not succeeded in crippling Germany,” he continued. “The Germans have been deploying more of their anti-aircraft rockets and radar-guided guns, hammering back at us. However, I can safely say that they think we’re concentrating on France.”
Truman looked around the room. “We, Cordell, and a handful of people in Britain are the only ones who know about the real target,” he said. He knew that he was repeating himself; he didn’t care. “That has to remain a secret.”
Stimson scowled. “I must remind you of General Stillwell’s comments on the subject,” he said. “Without knowing the real target, there is a limit to how much training we can do.”
“And if the Germans move several divisions and park them on top of the landing zone, we lose our best chance to end the war this year,” Truman replied. “Secrecy is of the essence.”
Ambassador King cleared his throat. “What about the racial mix-up of the divisions moving to Britain?”
Stimson gave him a cross look. “Roughly one-fourth black,” he said. “Relations have been surprisingly peaceful; the training schedule was devised by Stillwell to force them to work together or fail. As to how well they’ll hold up in combat… well, we’ll see.”
Truman nodded. “Before we close, what about the news from General Groves?”
Stimson smiled. “We will have a working model of an atomic device within a month,” he said. “The device, code-named Shockwave, will be ready for deployment approximately a week after the invasion of Europe.”
Ambassador King lifted an eyebrow. “Are you not going to test it?”
“It’s the same design as was used in the original history, according to Groves,” Stimson said. “The British might be unwilling to use their most terrible weapons, but are we?”
Future Embassy
Washington DC, USA
11th May 1942
Ambassador King had never lied to the President before. When Truman had asked him if there had been any further news about Hoover – neither the OSS nor the FBI having been able to find any trace of him – he’d said that there had been no sign of him. He’d lied; Oliver’s tip-off had revealed Hoover’s hiding place, the problem was to decide what to do with him.
“As I see it, we have to take him into custody,” he explained. The other members of his little group – General Palter and Captain Robinson – blinked in unison. The aging former base commander and the former Marine made an odd contrast. “We need the files he has stashed away.”
“For further influencing politics,” Robinson said. “A question; how does that make us any better than him?”
It was a good question, King conceded. Unfortunately, the world they’d grown up in was gone, destroyed by the Transition. Hoover, who didn’t know when to give up, was worming his way back into power. He’d been the one who’d tipped off the Germans to the Vladivostok invasion – and no one knew if he might be able to influence someone who knew the real target of the coming invasion.
“It doesn’t,” he said frankly. “However, we know what the nation went through, just to reach the semblance of equality we had in 2015; we know the race violence, we know the inner cities, we know how people with our colour were bribed into supporting very bad policies.”
“Speaking as someone with white skin, we do have other concerns,” Palter injected dryly. “Gun control, the abortion movement… we can reshape America with that sort of power.”
Robinson nodded grimly. “I assume that we cannot ask the local police for assistance,” he said. “Just us, then?”
“Just your small team, yes,” King said. He’d thought about asking Oliver for help, but had decided against it; he didn’t know what Oliver’s involvement with the entire matter actually was. “I assume that the site has been under observation?”
Robinson smiled. “Only his boyfriend and the housekeeper, Mrs Cosmopolitan, have been going in and out,” he said. “Captain Bosco has been keeping watch; the only occupant half the time is Hoover himself.”
King nodded. “Let’s roll,” he said. “We move in, arrest the housekeeper and Hoover himself, get our hands on the files and… well, we can dump him somewhere.”
“Why now?” Palter asked. “He has provided the Germans with the fake information.”
“And how long will it be before they discover the truth?” King asked. “We have to move now, quickly. If they suspect, the worst that will happen is that they won’t know exactly where the invasion is coming in to land.”
He scowled as the small team headed for their car. It wasn’t a brilliant plan, but it was the best that they could do, under the circumstances.
Safe House
Washington DC, USA
11th May 1942
Captain Bosco was hidden inside a house opposite Hoover’s, having spent the better part of a day rigging up surveillance sensors under cover of darkness and the uniform of a roof-repair man. He checked the sensors one last time before coming to meet General Palter; the housekeeper had gone out ten minutes ago. From the bug he’d attached to her car – one of the latest models – she was on the other side of Washington.
“She’s something in the city, or more accurately related to something in the city,” he’d explained, having solved the problem of why she had the car in the first place. The surveillance equipment Ambassador King had obtained – he didn’t know where he might have gotten his hands on prohibited technology – was perfect for the task at hand.
“Hopefully, she’ll stay away long enough for us to do this,” Palter said. “Can I bring the team in?”
Bosco checked the other little devices he’d scattered around. “All of the telephone lines go through a single point,” he said. “Call me when you’re ready and I’ll cut them all off with the flick of a switch.”