There was a long pause as the room fell silent and Thorne considered deeply what he’d just been told. It was clear from the expressions of everyone else in the room that they were expecting some reasoned response regarding the information, and he wasn’t about to disappoint them.
“Maskirovka…” he stated finally, cryptically, as a faint smile of recollection flared in his mind.
“I beg your pardon…?” Trumbull asked quickly, serving for all the rest as they stared on uncomprehendingly.
“It’s a Russian term,” Thorne continued suddenly, speaking in a rush now as he shook himself out of a momentary fugue. “In my time, it was a well-known Soviet intelligence tactic intended to confuse and outsmart an enemy. Maskirovka…” he repeated. “It means deception… a masking – if you will – of your true intentions, while presenting some complete denial or plausible falsehood to the rest of the world as an alternative to what you’re actually up to. I remember the term mostly from a book, actually,” he added as unnecessary trivia, seeing no point in naming his all-time favourite Tom Clancy novel, Red Storm Rising.
“Our sources in Berlin inform us that the Irish Legation there demanded an audience with Reichsmarschall Reuters himself that very morning, along with Ribbentrop and also – quite conveniently – Von Neurath, which seems to have been the reason he was out of the country when all of this occurred, leaving our ‘friend’, Barkmann in charge.” Menzies gave a soft snort of derision. “You have to give them full marks for arrogance: the cheeky blighters actually timed the meeting to coincide with the attacks so they could hand Reuters a fait accompli of what they’d done, and then show the unmitigated gall to blame Jerry for the whole bloody thing!”
“How many people know about this…?” Thorne asked carefully, not sure what to do with that information.
“Other than our operatives in situ…?” Trumbull queried. “No one outside this room at present… not even Canberra: we’ve been able to keep it all hush-hush for now,” Trumbull advised with a grimace, “but a D-Notice will only stretch so far, and I suspect it’s only a day or two in any case before the American newspapers get hold of it: some of our brighter journalists working out of the embassy in Washington are already asking questions.”
“Nice work if you can pull it off,” Thorne conceded. “Of all the world powers, America’s the only one Reuters would be afraid of, and with good reason: he knows damn well how much the United States’ manpower and industrial might contributed to an Allied victory in Realtime, and he’s been doing everything he can this time around to make sure the Yanks don’t officially come into the war on our side. Real smart move on the part of the Irish to bring the US into this… we’ve long expected the Nazis to make a move on the rest of Ireland at some stage to completely secure their western border, and any such move now would also mean war with the one nation the Krauts are scared of…” He shrugged matter-of-factly. “Win-win on the other side of the border: the Yanks get vital strategic bases right on Berlin’s backdoor, and the Irish in one fell swoop basically render themselves immune to any further Nazi aggression.” He grimaced again. “Not particularly sporting of our ‘mates’ across the Pacific there to leave us out of the loop on this one, though…”
“That, Old Man, is where things start to get a little problematic…” Menzies ventured carefully with a grimace of his own. “You asked about this second witness with experience enough to confirm an atomic explosion?” Thorne nodded silently. “Well, the few very sketchy reports we’ve received since last week suggest that he was working with the IRA in Northern Ireland to – as you say – ‘bust Kransky out’. It is believed that this fellow was subsequently taken into custody by the Americans during this border incident, and is currently under guard at an as-yet unknown location. We believe that due to this man’s scientific expertise, there was premeditated intent on the part of the United States to secure him for their own purposes and that part of this operation – if not all – was set up to that end.
“The OSS has been critical of our exchange of nuclear technology for some time now, and not entirely without reason, I must admit. This has particularly been the case in respect of atomic research: what little information we have indicates their Manhattan Project is years behind our progress in terms of delivering a working device. My personal opinion is that they’ve attempted to circumvent the whole issue by securing an asset of their own with extensive technical expertise in this field.”
“In light of this news of a Nazi bomb, I’d suggest we probably could’ve been a lot more forthcoming with our own research,” Thorne mused sourly with a shrug, “but I suppose that’s pretty much all spilt milk now.” He shook himself, as if searching for some form of denial to assuage his own doubts. “Anyway… what guarantee to they have that this guy is any good? What do we know about him…?”
“Very little, other than that he was travelling with two teenage children of unknown relationship – a boy and a girl – and that Jerry wanted him back rather badly.” Trumbull answered after a short, thoughtful pause, then hesitated before continuing. “We do know his name however: Lowenstein… Samuel Lowenstein… we thought perhaps you might be able to advise on his professional abilities.”
The shock that struck Thorne in that moment of revelation came with the force of a physical blow. He blinked twice – almost in reflex – as if at first the words had not registered. Instead he stared in unfocussed silence at a point on the wall just beyond Menzies’ shoulder, for the first time in his waking memory finding himself completely lacking for any reply or characteristic, uttered profanity.
Well, fuck me…! That silent exclamation echoed in his head, but even that was ignored.
“Max…?” Menzies ventured, worried that perhaps something had indeed short-circuited behind the man’s vacant eyes.
“Uh… Lowenstein…” Thorne muttered softly, barely coherent as the real world burst back into his thoughts. “Lowenstein…!” He refocussed now, peering sharply at each man in turn as if daring them to reveal some grotesque prank at his expense. “Gentlemen, if this is true, I cannot even begin to impress upon you how important this situation is,” his eyes now alight with excitement.
“The initial reports regarding the origins of Hindsight that your team provided us upon arrival at Scapa Flow two years ago mentioned a scientist by the name of Samuel Lowenstein a number of times,” George IV observed after a long drag on his cigarette. “This man’s knowledge and expertise is clearly significant.”
Documents detailing the history of the Hindsight team and the background behind the development of the temporal displacement units that had necessitated its creation had been passed around to a select few among the British Government and High Command in the days following the group’s arrival in June of 1940. Edward VIII had been one of those to be appraised of the situation however the then Duke of York had not, the new king only being briefed regarding the existence of a task force from the future after assuming the Throne following the death of his older brother toward the end of that same year.
“Your Majesty,” Thorne began, forced by his own fearful excitement take a steadying breath, “Samuel Lowenstein was the driving force – under duress admittedly – behind the development of the Temporal Displacement Units that brought us and Reuters’ men here. Hal Markowicz was his research partner, and no disrespect to Hal, but even he would admit that Lowenstein was the real brains behind the breakthrough that made the TDU possible. We had assumed that the New Eagles had murdered Lowenstein prior to their departure from the Twenty-First Century; an assumption that now appears to be incorrect, if this new report from Kransky is to be believed.”
“Might one then assume…” Princess Elizabeth enquired from beside her father, speaking for the first time, “…that this man would be a great technological asset…?” She paused for a moment as she considered her own train of thought “Or indeed, a great danger, should he once again fall into the wrong hands, as was the case in your era…?”
; “Your Royal Highness, that perfectly sums up the worth and threat of Samuel Lowenstein.” Thorne began slowly, choosing his words with extreme care. “I have nothing but respect for the abilities and the integrity of our friends in the United States, however I would not feel comfortable with any nation having access to this man other than our own…” he paused for a moment to consider what he’d just said and they quickly added: “…Britain, I mean, of course…”
By the time Thorne had left the 21st Century, Queen Elizabeth II had already reigned for almost sixty years. She was at the time the second-longest standing British monarch after Queen Victoria, and at that stage was looking very likely to surpass that reign with ease. Young as the girl sitting before him was, Thorne knew enough about the woman she would become to never make the mistake of underestimating her.
“Gentlemen… Your Highnesses…” he continued, nodding to the King and Princess in turn, “I cannot stress upon you how vital it is that we have Lowenstein brought under our care. I cannot impress upon you enough that no price is too great in exchange for his safety and our security.”
“Would this man know the exact date upon with the New Eagles arrived in this era?” George IV asked slowly, shrewdly, as his cigarette hovered just below his chin between the knuckles of two fingers.
That question was everything… something of which every person in that room was well aware. The entire original purpose of the Hindsight task force was to intercept Reuters’ New Eagles group prior to their arrival from the 21st Century and thereby return history to its original course. Although delayed and presented with numerous obstacles in the two years since their arrival, that original, vital mission still stood and still potentially held the key for Britain’s salvation. Thorne stared at each of the others in turn, thinking long and hard over the answer he should give.
“In all truth, Your Majesty, I don’t know,” he replied finally, deciding complete honesty to be the best course of action,” but it’s my opinion that it is very likely he may possess this information and, were we able to get it from him, we would indeed be able to complete our mission as originally intended.”
“You mean; that you could finally history to its original course?” Menzies probed.
“Exactly that, sir…” Thorne answered frankly, then paused as the true ramifications of that simple statement rippled through him like a chill. “…Exactly that…” Another pause, and his eyes once more began to momentarily fade out of focus before he forced himself back to reality once more.
“Gentlemen, we need to speak to Lowenstein immediately: I need to get back to the United States as soon as possible, and then on to Ireland if need be…”
“Max, that may not be the most prudent course of action,” Trumbull interjected quickly, cutting off Thorne’s train of thought and forging on before the man had a chance to protest. “Relations with the Americans are somewhat strained at the moment, particularly in the area of technical research, as we’ve already discussed. As you have also already pointed out, your own popularity is currently not high with their government and higher military echelons either…” He paused for a moment, clearly concerned regarding giving insult to someone he considered a good friend and colleague. “I mean no disrespect, but your presence in this might potentially do more harm than good right now.”
The initial glare Thorne flashed in his direction over those remarks and over the possibility of being excluded from Lowenstein’s retrieval was fierce indeed, and he was close to issuing an equally fierce rebuttal as the voice in his head flared to life in that moment and gave him sudden pause.
These are people who respect you and your opinions… it burst forth quickly, almost sounding desperate in its attempt to calm his building anger. Think before you speak… really think: do you really want to alienate yourself from the only government that still wants to hear from you…?
It was the first time he could recall that the silent voice had ever actually offered anything even remotely like sound, reasoned advice, and the surprise of that alone was enough to turn him from his original reaction as Thorne actually considered what Trumbull had said and was forced to grudgingly accept that the statement held at lease some merit.
“Assuming that’s correct, sir…” he began, reluctant to give ground, “…what would you consider an acceptable alternative…?”
“We’ve already presented a response to the United States regarding this matter,” Menzies explained after a silent nod from Trumbull. “Viscount Halifax will be calling on the President directly later today to discuss the matter and put to him in the strongest terms how important it is for this Lowenstein to be placed in the care of His Majesty’s Government. The Ambassador is well aware of the gravity of the situation and has been authorised to speak freely on our behalf in this matter. He has every latitude with which to offer a number of incentives to the United States in exchange, not the least of those being full disclosure of all our nuclear research.”
“That’d be a start,” Thorne conceded. “…And if they’re reluctant to hand him over…?”
“Implicit within the Ambassador’s offer of exchange will also be the ramifications of not handing him over,” Trumbull answered for Menzies, his tone deadly serious. “There’s still a huge amount of technology that Hindsight has provided this government in any number of areas, civil and military, that could easily be withheld should our American cousins choose to be intractable in this.”
“It’s Britain’s trade in these ‘commodities’ that gets us the materiel we need from the US,” Thorne pointed out shrewdly, playing agent provocateur. “The remaining British forces all over the globe would suffer if the Yanks get huffy and decide to take their ‘bat and ball’ and go home, so to speak. Don’t get me wrong, gentlemen – I’m all for it – but are all of you prepared for the potential consequences of handing the US an ultimatum?”
“For an opportunity – a real opportunity to see history put right, and once again have a free and independent Great Britain, Mister Thorne?” Elizabeth asked softly, pre-empting anything the others might’ve said. “I should think any price would be acceptable, would it not…?”
“Indeed, Ma’am… indeed…” He could only agree with a faint smile, in complete accord with feelings shared by everyone else in the room.
“On the subject of you not going to the United States…” Menzies began after a slight pause, deciding it was an opportune moment to change the subject “…we do have something else you could assist us with…”
“And why, gentlemen, does that not surprise me…?” Thorne shot back with a broader and far more characteristic grin as he noted the change in mood within the room.
“I believe General Bennett may have already appraised you this morning of the concern that all of us have regarding this situation that seems to be developing with the Japanese in South-East Asia, and also of the attacks on oil production over the last month?”
“He did, sir.”
“Well, we would very much like you to get a first-hand look at the situation, and to that end you will be in Darwin by the middle of next month to meet a task force bound for Singapore. From there you will be better able to observe and report back to us.”
“Gentlemen,” Thorne began, too excited by the news of Lowenstein to find any interest in whatever was going on in South-East Asia, “what’s happening in Ireland now could hold the very key to the completion of our primary mission… you’ve said that yourselves… I need to be there when all this happens… at least here in Australia or, preferably, North America. I can hold fast in Toronto if necessary – if my presence in the US would be considered counter-productive.”
“Max, this unfortunately isn’t up for discussion,” Trumbull countered, friendly but firm nonetheless. “If anything does happen with this Lowenstein, it certainly won’t be this month, and as you yourself have already conceded, there’s no guarantee this man does know the date and time of their arrival. Do you suppose the New Eagles would have openly given him s
uch information?”
“No…” he answered eventually, not wanting to admit the truth “…not willingly, sir, but…”
“But, we are pursuing the matter anyway, through official channels…” the Prime Minister cut in, completing the sentence. “Our relationship with the Americans is at a difficult point right now. The truth is, most of them now see us as the irrelevant left-over of a dying empire, and were it not for the fact that the Nazis and their alliance with Japan present so great a threat, I suspect the United States would be more than happy to see us fade quietly into the sunset of history without lifting a finger.” He paused to take a breath, the faint tinge of bitterness in his tone. “As it is, they need access to our bases in South-East Asia and the Pacific region, they need the technology we’re able to trade on thanks to Hindsight, and they need the huge volumes of hard currency – the gold reserves – that we’re handing over in exchange for the copious amounts of arms and material currently streaming from their factories. It will be at least another two or three years before the new facilities we’re building here and in Canada are able to take up some of the slack, and until that time, we also need them if we’re to have any hope of surviving this war.”
“We just can’t afford to have anything upset that balance, Max,” Menzies explained further as Trumbull fell silent, the man’s anger and frustration over their dependence on another nation for survival quite evident.
“They line up around the block to get at my money the second I get off the plane,” Thorne growled sullenly, equally displeased and feeling a little used after Trumbull’s succinct description of the situation. “They’re always happy to see me then…”
“Business will always be business, Max, and no one discounts how much your investments and your capital has helped Britain and the Commonwealth over these last two years,” Menzies acknowledged with a wry smile, “but politics will also always be politics, and that is our speciality. Let us deal with it, while you do what you do best...” he paused for a moment, the grin widening for just a second or two “…other that making a grand nuisance of yourself, of course.”
The Dead Alone (Empires Lost Book 3) Page 25