Operation Blue Sapphire

by David B. Gilmore

  “How so?” inquired Chevalier.

  “The place isn’t near other warehouses. It’s off by itself. It had the usual fencing around it, but there were several American Military Police acting as security, making it impossible to get much closer than the road. They were all taking their jobs very seriously. And that isn’t all.”

  “There’s more?”

  “I casually pulled in, acted like I was lost, and asked for directions,” said du Maurier. “Pulling out, I noticed several radio towers. It looks like the warehouse is also being used as some sort of communications post.”

  “That doesn’t fit with what Phillips told you, that he requisitioned equipment.”

  “No, it’s doesn’t seem to,” du Maurier agreed. “The place just had a different feel to it. I understand the security, we have it at our warehouses, but this was different. No, Zacharie, the Americans definitely have something in there they want to keep secret. The place looks like a fortress, and I don’t see any way in. Which brings us back to my original concern about him. The pistol I found on him. I know Calcutta’s a large city and there’s crime here, but I find it most unusual that someone just going out for a casual dinner with friends would be carrying a gun.”

  Zacharie thought for a moment before responding. “Margaux shares your concerns and she’s worried about it too. I’m inclined to believe she’s right. We need to find out more about who Phillips was and what he was really doing in Calcutta.”

  “What about Rurik? He’s resourceful enough.”

  “That Russian? Jacques, he’s resourceful, but I want to keep our business with him separate. I don’t want him getting spooked on us and leaving us in a lurch. Besides, I think there’s more to him than what he’s letting on. If so, that’s his business, and so be it. I don’t want to know. We don’t need to get into bed with him any deeper than we already have. Plus, I don’t trust him as far as I can spit, and I have a feeling one of these days, we’ll need to deal with him. For now, let’s give this matter more thought. We’ll get to the bottom of Phillips, we just need to do it with the minimal amount of exposure possible.”

  “I agree.”

  “If that’s all, I have to go. I’m off to a meeting with a South African who might be able to solve our problem with the weapons.”

  Jacques opened his desk drawer and handed Zacharie a small .25 caliber pistol. “Here, take this with you. It isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing. And be careful.”

  The flights from Washington to Brazil were uneventful. They made stops along the way for fuel, and to allow passengers to board and leave the plane, before arriving at their final destination in Brazil late the night after their departure. Due to the hour and their upcoming flight time, they decided to stay in the waiting room and do their best to get what sleep they could.

  At 0330 hours, Emma was awakened from a shallow sleep when she felt a nudge on her shoulder and her code name Katherine Williams being called. She sat upright on the wooden bench to see an Air Corps officer standing in front of her.

  “Are you Katherine Williams?” he asked in a deep Texas drawl.

  Emma momentarily struggled to wake up and get her bearings before answering, “I am.”

  “I thought you probably were. Let me introduce myself, I’m Captain Bud Osborne. Today I’ll be leading a squadron of B-twenty-sixes across the Atlantic to Liberia. You’re going to be my passenger. Are these two with you?” Osborne motioned to the sleeping Bunnel and LaCroix.

  Emma shook the sleep out of her head, rose from the hard wooden bench, and extended her hand to Osborne. “Good to meet you, Captain. Let me wake them. We met on the plane down from Miami, and we’re all going to the same place.”

  Osborne waited until Bunnel and LaCroix were awake before briefing them. “The first thing we need to do is shed some weight,” he said. “If there’s anything that’s not necessary, get rid of it now. When ya’all are ready, we’ll go to the mess hall and have breakfast. At this time of morning, I know it’s probably the last thing on your mind, but when we leave here, the next stop is Africa. At breakfast, I’ll introduce you to the other pilots and crews. For reasons of weight and space, we’ll split you up. This isn’t complicated. For safety, just do what the other crews tell you. After breakfast, we’ll go through our normal preflight procedures. Feel free to ask any questions. After that, we’re off. They’ll make sure ya’all are as comfortable as possible.” He turned to Emma. “Miss Williams, you’ll be flying with me.”

  “Please, call me Katherine,” replied Emma.

  “Very well. Does anyone have any questions?”

  They all shook their heads no.

  After breakfast Emma walked with Osborne to the plane she would be flying in. Osborne made sure everyone’s gear was quickly stowed on board then walked to the front of the plane with Emma. His co-pilot, Cal Wheeler, flashlight in hand, began the outside preflight inspection. Osborne reached into his shirt pocket for a package of cigarettes and offered one to Emma.

  As they smoked she asked him, “Bud, are these planes safe?”

  Osborne was surprised by her question and responded with a grin on his face. “You mean the Widowmaker? Absolutely. I’ve logged countless hours in the B-twenty-six. It got a bad reputation when it first came out of production, but I wouldn’t fly anything else. I really love flying this plane. Everything will be fine. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “Why bombers? Don’t you want to fly fighters?” asked Emma.

  “Not at all.” Osborne pointed at the plane. “Two engines. One goes out, you still have another one to make it home on.”

  “How long have you been flying?”

  “I joined the Air Corps in thirty-nine and have been flying ever since. I’ve logged a lot of hours in multi-engine planes. Before this assignment, I was in charge of training in the B-twenty-six. Today, I’ll be leading five squadrons across the Atlantic.” Osborne thought for a moment and then asked, “What exactly is it that you do? It has to be something important for you to be here, standing in the dark at an airfield in Brazil, catching a plane to Africa.”

  Emma was surprised how easily she slipped into her cover story when she answered, “I’m a reporter for the L.A. Times, on my way to India to cover the war.”

  Osborne sensed there was more to what she told him but didn’t pry and didn’t ask further questions. Rather, he offered her another cigarette. “Cal’s almost finished with his inspection. It’ll be time to board soon and do our final checks. After that we’ll be ready to go.”

  Once inside, Emma took a seat in the nose of the plane. The navigator told her they wouldn’t be flying at high altitude and gave her a heavy sheepskin coat if she needed it, to use as a blanket. A few minutes after the plane took off, she was sound asleep.

  Half way across the Atlantic, Emma woke from her sleep when the plane, shaking violently, dropped in altitude. She could hear the engines strain as the nose lifted up and the plane struggled to regain altitude. In front of her she could see a menacing wall of dark clouds stretching from the ocean floor to the sky above. As she processed the sight, she realized they were flying directly into it. A moment later she felt the navigator tap her on the shoulder.

  “Captain wanted me to make sure you were strapped in. We’re heading into a really bad storm. It was supposed to be north of us, but it moved south during the night. This storm’s so large, we can’t fly above it, and Brazil radioed us another has moved in behind us. There’s no possibility of going back. We don’t have a choice, we’ve gotta keep moving forward. Hang on, because it’s going to be a real bitch!” He then handed her a large empty coffee can. “Here, if you get sick, use this.” As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone and back to his post.

  Once again she was alone in the nose of the plane. Through the Plexiglass, Emma could see lightning in the distance as the plane rapidly closed the gap between itself and the storm. For the time being, the engines had smoothed out. She just hoped the designers at Martin ha
d planned for things like this.

  Above her Osborne was on the radio. He knew the other pilots could see they were approaching the storm. His concerns were twofold; he didn’t want the flight scattered all over the Atlantic, and more importantly, he didn’t want any collisions. Osborne encouraged them all to do their best to stay on course.

  Soon the plane was enveloped in the blackness of the clouds. All Emma could see was the outline of the nose cone and nothing beyond. Shortly after entering the wall of clouds, the plane suddenly dropped. Osborne recovered quickly, regaining altitude, and kept the plane on course.

  The flight turned into a rollercoaster; the only difference being there was never a warning before the plane was jostled by turbulence. Emma could hear the stress on both the fuselage and engines as the storm intensified. Seated in the nose of the plane, she began to feel like she was in a pinball machine. When the storm was exceptionally rough, the moments turned into hours. Each quick descent was followed by a sense of relief when the plane leveled out.

  Suddenly, directly in front of her, Emma saw the tail of another B-26. She gasped in horror, as it was so close she could see the screws that held the sheet metal onto the plane. She felt she could almost touch it. The small gap between the planes was rapidly closing. Instinctively, she shouted, “Plane!” Bracing for the immediate impact, she was thrust back in her seat as Osborne pulled back on the yolk and applied all the power the 1,900 horsepower Pratt and Whitney engines could spare. They roared to maximum and the craft catapulted higher into the clouds. Waiting for the screeching sound of metal on metal contact, Emma let out a sigh of relief when there was none. Osborne had avoided what would have certainly ended all their lives.

  The farther east they flew, the more the storm dissipated. Finally, the afternoon sun illuminated the nose cone. The sight of the vivid brilliance of the blue sky above and ocean below was both electrifying and a relief.

  An hour later she once again heard the voice of the navigator behind her. “Captain wanted me to let you know we’ll be landing soon. See the green up ahead? That’s Liberia. Welcome to Africa, Miss Williams.” Emma reached behind her and handed him the coffee can; it was empty.

  Osborne’s landing was flawless. Once they were all outside, it was Emma who offered him a cigarette.

  “I see you made it across without getting sick. I’m sorry about that, the storm wasn’t supposed to be there. We didn’t have enough fuel to fly south. We had no choice but to go through it,” said Osborne.

  “Bud, you did what you had to. I’m just happy you saw the plane.”

  “He wasn’t supposed to be there, either. We were the lead plane, but in a storm like that, anything can happen. We were lucky. I had to really bend the throttle, otherwise an inch or two more and it would have been a real fubar.” As he smoked, Osborne attempted to lighten the mood. Looking at the plane, he asked, “Still have any questions about the B-twenty-six?”

  “No, I think I’ve been thoroughly briefed,” replied Emma, laughing.

  “Just another day at the office. I radioed ahead for a jeep to pick you up. I’m going to stay here and wait until every plane from all of my squadrons comes in. It may be awhile.”

  “Where are you off to next?”

  “Either North Africa or England. I won’t know until my final orders are cut.”

  In a serious tone, Emma told him, “I was going to wish you good luck, but after what we went through today, I don’t think you’ll need it.”

  “Kathrine, when this thing is all said and done, I’m coming home. I know it.”

  After a short jeep ride, Emma arrived at the terminal. It had been quickly built and completed for President Roosevelt’s visit the previous month. The windows were open, allowing the hot, humid African air to enter. Fans were everywhere, but they didn’t seem to do much good, more of a psychological reassurance than a workable solution to the heat. Upon entering, Emma saw Bunnel and LaCroix at a counter talking to a sergeant. A few minutes later they joined her.

  “The Sergeant told us we’re still on schedule for our flight tomorrow morning. It leaves at zero nine hundred. Jimmy and I will have to look around and bunk with some pilots. There’s a women’s quarters, and he gave me good enough directions to get you there. He said to be sure to use the mosquito netting so we don’t get malaria,” said LaCroix with a smile on his face.

  “What else did he tell you, Henri? I know there’s something else,” Emma prodded.

  Embarrassed, LaCroix replied, “He said we could go into town, but about the only thing we can expect to get there is a good case of the clap.”

  “Then I won’t go into town. But if you boys want to test your luck …” Emma was grinning from ear to ear and anxious to see how they would respond.

  “No, I think we can stay right here. I’m sure there are plenty of things to explore and do. If not, we’ll find something. With all these Air Corps and Army guys around, as a last resort I’m sure there’s at least one poker game going on,” replied Bunnel.

  “Let’s find our quarters and get settled in. They must have some sort of mess hall here, I’m famished. Afterward, maybe we can find the crew for tomorrow morning’s flight. From the schedule Colonel Wyman gave us, the trip from here to Cairo’s going to be long and tough. It’d be interesting to find out where we’ll be heading next. After we find our tents, let’s meet back here,” said Emma.

  Zacharie Chevalier walked into the bar at the Great Eastern Hotel. He was early for his meeting but surmised that the man he was there to meet was already seated at a table away from the bar. Taking his drink, he made his way to the table.

  “Conrad Kruger?” asked Chevalier.

  The man nodded and motioned for Chevalier to sit.

  “I’m …” was all Chevalier managed to before he was interrupted.

  “I know who you are, what you do, and where you live. Just call it a precaution, but I like to know who I may be doing business with. Especially in these uncertain times,” said Kruger.

  Chevalier was taken by Kruger’s initial comment and looked the man up and down. Before speaking, he took a long drink of his whisky. “A mutual friend thought maybe we could do some business together.”

  “Depends what it is,” replied Kruger.

  Chevalier’s expression grew tense. He was becoming uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going and decided to defuse the situation by slowing things down. He held up his hand to summon a waiter. When the waiter arrived, Chevalier ordered a drink for each of them. “Our friend told me you’re South African and don’t have much use for the English,” he told Kruger when the waiter left.

  Kruger laughed and Chevalier felt confident he had found the man that he was looking for.

  “I tolerate them and play the game of a loyal Commonwealth subject. It works out good for me, but no, I don’t have a lot of respect for them. I’m from Transvaal, and I never knew my father. They killed him in the Boer War. Logically, I should be on a watch list, but my mother was smart. She sent me off to England to school but, at the same time, taught me never to forget or forgive what they did to us.”

  “Are you sure you’re not a policeman.”

  Kruger laughed again. “No, but in a way I wish I was, it would make my job a lot easier. Now, what is it that you want that you can’t get through the company you work for?”

  Chevalier decided he would take the risk. He moved his chair closer to the table and in a quieter voice told Kruger, “I need field radios, rifles, machine guns, and mortars. Plus, plenty of ammunition.”

  Kruger softly whistled. “How many are you thinking about?”

  “Initially, two hundred rifles.”

  “If you were able to get that kind of order, what do you plan on doing with it?”

  “That’s better left unsaid. For now, let’s just say I’m a collector and leave it at that. But I guarantee you the weapons will not be used in India. So there will be no repercussions for you.”

  Kruger thoughtfully ran his
fingers through his hair. “Something like this is going to be a very costly venture. I can put something together, but a deal like this takes time to prepare. Logistics have to be considered, and people need to be paid. There’s also a lot of risk, which makes the price go up.”

  “I understand that, but to make the deal more sugary for you, I plan on ordering more in the future. What I’m talking about is a steady flow of matériel.”

  Kruger laughed again. “You mean sweeter.” Kruger shoved his hand forward. “Monsieur Chevalier, I think we can do business together. Give me a week and a half, maybe two at the most. I’ll be in contact with you, and let you know for sure that I can deliver. It won’t be cheap. Are you sure you’ll be able to afford it? For what you’re asking, sixty thousand American dollars for the rifles is not unreasonable.”

  “And the ammo, I’ll need at least a hundred thousand rounds.”

  “Another ten thousand dollars.”

  “That’s all very expensive.”

  “Maybe, but if you could buy what you want on the open market, you wouldn’t be seeking my help.”

  “True. For that amount of money, are you sure you can deliver?”

  “Anywhere in West Bengal you want.”

  “When you’re ready, we will meet again. At that time, I will give you half down,” said Chevalier as he shook Kruger’s hand. “Now that that’s settled, maybe you can help me with something else.”

  “If I can, I will.”

  “Just something odd. The other day a friend of mine was out driving and got lost. He pulled into what looked like a warehouse, but it was different. He said there were all kinds of radio towers and the place was heavily patrolled by what he thought were American Military Police. He asked for directions and was firmly asked to leave.”

  Kruger asked where the warehouse was located. After thinking for a moment, he told Chevalier, “I don’t know exactly what it is, but it’s all very mysterious. The only thing I know is it has something to do with something the Americans are doing in Assam Province. They’ve made a deal with the English and are using a tea plantation there for some kind of very secret stuff. No one knows anything about it and no one is talking either. Sorry, that’s all I know, but if I was going to guess, I would bet that it has something to do with military intelligence. I’ve seen the place and all the antennas. They are definitely communicating with someone.”