The city was the target and the bombers were loaded to do the maximum possible damage. Officially, the targets were the great Ilmala railway marshalling yards and the factories around them, Skatudden Island, its port and factories and the Lansisatama port and factory area along with its marshalling yard. Knocking all three out would, according to the briefing, seriously damage Helsinki’s capacity as a transport and production center. Of course, everybody knew that with bombers hitting at night, using radar and under fire from ground defenses, the bombing wouldn’t be that accurate. The three spaced out targets probably meant that most of the city would be hit. That was regrettable but a new phrase had already been coined to cover it. Collateral damage. The collateral damage in this raid was likely to be high, all the more so since the 605 miles to the target made this, by B-29 standards, a very short-range mission and the aircraft were carrying bomb load instead of fuel. So much so, they were even using the rarely-touched underwing hard points for additional bombs. Most had their explosive loads under their wings, leaving their great bellies full of incendiaries.
Power climbed up the ladder into his lead B-29A and settled into the aircraft commander’s seat. “Tower. This is Black Chalk Leader. We are ready to go.”
Geneva Station was quite luxurious as railway stations went. Apart from its ticket office, it also had a reasonably good restaurant and the waiting room was clean and comfortable. That didn’t mean that Henry McCarty liked using it. The train ran too close to the border with occupied France before it swung south, through the Simplon Tunnel and out to Italy. The airport was even worse. It was literally on the Swiss-French border which was why the courier party never used it. Even driving past it, as they had coming in, made McCarty nervous. That was the problem with Geneva, it was a finger of land that stuck into German-occupied Europe. One day, the Germans would hack it off. The Swiss made a big thing about their armed population and fortifications but they hadn’t helped against Napoleon and wouldn’t against Hitler. McCarty had a nasty feeling that Switzerland was running on borrowed time. He didn’t want to be around when that time ran out.
Meanwhile, there were other interesting things to amuse them until their train set off on its run to Rome. Like the couple who were having an increasingly-heated altercation in the booth opposite the bar. McCarty didn’t know what had started it, but it looked like the woman was telling the man with her that he was being dumped. He didn’t like it. Then, as she got up to leave, he grabbed her arm and dragged her back, none too gently. She yelled something at him. McCarty imagined it was along the lines of ‘get your hands off me’ and jabbed at his hand with something silver. A nail file? The man yelped and pulled his arm back. Then the woman made another effort to break away, this time succeeding and stalked away across the floor.
That’s when it got serious. The man grabbed a beer bottle from the table, smashed off the end and went after the woman. She saw, screamed and tried to run. Achillea and McCarty both moved forward to stop him but the Railway police were faster. One tripped the man up; the other stared beating him across the kidneys with his baton. Once the man was subdued, they dragged him away. McCarty and the senior officer exchanged nods, the situation was under control. Or he thought it was because that’s when he heard Achillea’s quiet “Henry, where’s Igrat?”
He looked around, Igrat had vanished. He realized that the fight had been a diversion and that he and Achillea had fallen for it. With a brief “Achillea, follow me.” He headed for the exit and the area outside. It was deserted except for a police officer standing in the car park
“Officer, has a car left this car park in the last few minutes? One with a black-haired woman and at least two men?”
The policeman looked at Achillea and decided a straight answer was the best policy. “Certainly, madam. A black taxi. With the woman and two men as you describe.”
McCarty cursed. “The young lady is a member of my business staff. I have reason to believe she may have been abducted by those men. They could be in France by now.”
“No Sir. The border is closed, from both sides. If your friend is in the taxi, she is still in Geneva.” The police officer hesitated. Then he realized there was more going on here than met the eye. “I have the taxi number if that will help.”
“Thank you officer.” Achillea was at her most charming which tended to be slightly frightening. “Henry, we better get in touch with Loki and trace this. Otherwise, one of us is going to have to get in touch with Washington and tell the Seer that Igrat’s in the hands of the Gestapo and we haven’t done anything about it.”
McCarty thought about that and winced. Stuyvesant very rarely lost his temper. When he did, the results tended to be spectacular. “Too right. Get on the phone to Branwen, now.” He turned back to the policeman. “Officer, I need to speak with my bank, the Bank de Commerce et Industrie, right away. There may be a ransom demand and I must make the necessary arrangements.”
The police officer had a discrete but immediate reaction to the name of the bank. All banks had a very close relationship with the Swiss Government, to the point where it hard to say where one ended and the other began. The Bank de Commerce et Industrie was something quite special. They had influence even the other banks lacked. If this American banked with them, he was a man of much importance.
Power eased Carolina Sings down to the prescribed attack altitude, 2,000 feet. Power thought this was insane. The whole purpose of the B-29 was that it could bomb from high altitude, 25,000 — 30,000 feet where flak was almost ineffective and fighters were straggling. Only, the high-altitude raids had failed. They couldn’t hit the targets accurately enough. So, tonight, the B-29s were coming in low, fast and in darkness. It would either work or be a catastrophe and Powers was betting on the latter. That’s why he was in the lead bomber. If he was sending the men under his command to a massacre, he would lead them in himself.
Around him, the formation of B-29s was splitting into three sections; one aimed at each primary target area. Powers had taken Lansisatama himself. It was the most hazardous of the three. The others were on the outside of the city; the bombers could hit them and turn away. To get to Lansisatama, they would have to fly over the whole city and take flak all the way. Then do the same getting out. Night fighters didn’t worry Power too much, the Finns had few of them and there were more than sixty F-65 Tigercats guarding the bomber formations. It was the flak batteries that were the problem. The Huns had too much low-level flak for this to work. That had been considered; hence the sixty F-61 Black Widows, assigned to shooting up the flak batteries when they opened fire. Of course that meant they would have to unmask themselves by opening fire first — and those opening shots could be the end of a B-29.