The two men drifted over to a deserted corner. Once there, Hartzleff resumed. “I have heard what has befallen your associate Mister Smith. I do not know who was responsible, but you have my word it was none of our work.” McCarty did his best to look skeptical. “Mister Smith, if that it’s your name which I doubt, I know you are a smuggler and a black marketeer. You bring women’s stockings and other luxuries over from America and sell them in France and Germany for an enormous profit which is banked here because your IRS would catch you if you took it back with you.
“I tell you this because we do not care about your activities. If anything, they are helpful to us. A few luxuries keep many people quiet. So, although our countries are at war, there is no quarrel between us and you have nothing to fear from us. You may be certain your associate may recover here in peace as far as we are concerned. I have posted two of my men downstairs. If you wish, they will remain here to help protect your associate. In case of misunderstandings. Or if you prefer, they will leave with me.”
McCarty thought for a moment. He had little doubt that if Hartzleff had pulled Igrat in as part of his political or intelligence duties, she would have suffered just as badly and probably worse. It was the thought that something like this could be done unofficially, in the private sector as it were, that genuinely appalled the Gestapo officer. “All the evidence suggests that this was just some gangsters trying to muscle in on my operation. The responsible parties are dead; so I think this incident is concluded, Herr Hartzleff. But your reassurances are welcome and the assistance of your men also.”
Hartzleff nodded brusquely and headed back out. McCarty shook his head and rejoined Achillea. “Well, the Gestapo have just denied responsibility, for what that’s worth. There’ll be two Gestapo men downstairs. They’re going to be there anyway so I thought it better we know where they are than have them lurking around somewhere else.”
“Good thinking. We knew they weren’t involved anyway. The Boss is going to be really mad at Donovan for trying to pull this one.”
“Yeah.” McCarty shuddered slightly at the prospect of the news getting back to Washington. “He’d be really mad if it was any one of us. Since it’s Igrat, he’ll go completely ballistic.”
The Seer flipped through the code book, looking at some of the code-names assigned to people. He’d chosen his own, a name he’d won a long time before. Curtis LeMay was “The Diplomat,” a reference to the time when a Canadian fighter squadron had brought their Sopwith Snipes down to the US. He’d taken one look at the antiquated aircraft and blurted out “Jeez, they’re crap.” Leslie Groves was “The Architect” after his construction of the Pentagon. Thomas Power was “The Butcher”. On a whim he checked his own staff, Lillith was “The Librarian” and Naamah “The Doctor.” Igrat was “The Champ”. It occurred to him that whoever awarded these names was a pretty fine judge of character.
“General LeMay is here, Boss.”
“Thanks Lillith. Please find Sir Archibald Mclndoe and get him ready to work on Igrat when she gets back. When are they due in?”
“Twenty four hours, Boss. Igrat sneaked out the hospital and joined Henry and Achillea. They’re treating her like eggs. They’ve got what amounts to a complete hospital, complete with a bed, a doctor and a couple of nurses, in the front end of a Connie.”
Stuyvesant nodded. C-69s were used to evacuate casualties from Russia. The experience had been put to use in getting Igrat back quickly and safely. “Good. Impress upon Sir Archibald that he’s the finest plastic surgeon found practicing on the North American continent. If he doesn’t fix Igrat’s nose properly, he’ll be the finest plastic surgeon found floating in the Potomac.” He hesitated slightly and controlled his temper. “No, he’s a good man, you don’t need to say that. Just tell him a pretty girl has placed her trust in him. That’ll work a lot better. “
Lillith nodded and went out. A few seconds later, Curtis LeMay entered
“Curt, good to see you. How did the strike go?”
“Helsinki? So-so. One of the three groups hit the wrong target. They missed the main marshalling yards and hit a smaller set further south. Radar pictures look similar. I’m going to speak to Tommy about that. He can do better. We burned out most of the southern part of the city. It would have been less if the 7th had hit their assigned target. We lost 17 aircraft. Nine B-29s, five F-61s and three F-65s. In exchange we got around a dozen Heinkel 219 and Me-110s.”
“110s? I didn’t know they had any of those left.”
“Finnish. We lucked out. Next time the low-level flak will be waiting.”
“We’re leaking out that the purpose of the raid is to force the Nazis to pull back low-level flak from the front line and ease the pressure on the fighter-bombers. They won’t believe it, of course. They’ll see it for what it is, a one-shot trick pony we can’t repeat. They’ll also see it as desperation on our part; a last-ditch attempt to find some way to use all the bombers we’ve bought. Tomorrow the papers will be running the story about how Tommy Power has cracked the way to destroy cities. Low and fast, over the rooftops with incendiaries.”
“Once more with the low altitude and over-the-rooftops. God help us if we really had to do it that way.” LeMay rubbed his eyes. “You wanted to set up a meeting?”
“Yes, with you, General Groves and the supervisory committee. We’ve got some paperwork arriving that everybody needs to consider. It got held up a little but it’s safely on its way over. We’ll invite Major General Donovan as well, but I don’t think he’ll be able to attend.”
CHAPTER TWELVE: RESTORING ORDER
It was a strange thing. In the soft gray light of dawn, the damage to the city didn’t seem to be all that bad. The shells of the buildings were still standing. Their glass was gone and the area of wall around the windows was stained black certainly, but the outer stone shells were still there. It was only from the air that the devastation was truly apparent. From above it could be seen that the buildings were indeed shells, their insides gutted by fire. The incendiaries had landed on roofs already damaged by one hundred pound bombs mixed in with the incendiaries and set the wooden inside structure ablaze. That might have been controllable but for the two thousand pound bombs that the B-29s had dropped right at the start of the attack. They had blown the windows in. The fires on the top floors had drawn air in through the base of the buildings and up. That turned controllable fires into infernos. The same suction effect drew burning embers from adjacent fires in and they had completed the process. South Helsinki had been burned out. It just didn’t look like it. Not quite.
Marshal Carl Gustaf Emil Mannerheim looked at the ruined buildings. Outwardly dispassionate, inwardly despair tore at him. Under his leadership the Finnish Army had fought the Soviet Army to a standstill in the Winter War. He believed that achievement had saved Finland from Soviet occupation. Then the damned fool politicians had started the Continuation War in the hope of recovering the territory lost in 1940 and bringing about the dream of a Greater Finland covering the whole of the Kola Peninsula. Being charitable, they couldn’t have known then that doing so would bring them into conflict with the Americans. At that time Russia had been alone and it had seemed certain Germany would win that war as well. But the Americans had come in with their endless cornucopia of weapons and their ruthless determination to win, at all costs. Mannerheim looked around. Obviously one of the costs had been South Helsinki. At 78 years old, he didn’t need this. Nor would he need what was obviously to come. The same destruction would be methodically meted out to every city and town in Finland. Starting with the bits of Helsinki still standing.