by Stuart Slade
Once her guests had departed for the Oriental Hotel, Suriyothai relaxed and stared out of the window. In her mind, the strange display formed again, a waterfall of lights and threads that represented the various options for the future. Now the tenuous thread that she had identified earlier was glowing much more strongly than before. What had been a pious hope a couple of days before was now a solid possibility.
“I have brought tea, your Highness.” Lani bowed deeply as she poured, taking great care that her head did not rise above that of Suriyothai. “The meeting went well?”
“Very well. We have made many promises and now we must keep them. Also, we made a few boasts that are no more than that. Boasts remain just words until there are actions to back them up. Now, we must look for the excuse to take such actions. We said we had the finest army in South East Asia. We shall prove it by destroying French power in Indo-China. Once our military ability is demonstrated, the Hongs will come here and they will bring economic strength with them.”
Trent Building, Nottingham University, Nottingham, United Kingdom
“Excuse me, could you tell me how to find the library?”
The soft voice broke through David Newton’s daydream and focused his attention on the speaker. A young woman with jet-black hair, strongly arched eyebrows and high cheekbones. There weren’t that many women in the University and very few that attractive. “Umm, there’s several, depending on which school you’re in. What are you studying?”
“Commercial art. I’m just starting. And you?”
“Chemical engineering. Second year. My name’s David Newton. The library belonging to the Fine Art School is along this way. I’m heading that way myself since the Engineering School is on the next floor. I’ll show you where it is.”
“I’m Rachael Cohen. Pleased to meet you David. To be honest, I was afraid when I got here. Everybody seemed very remote and distant. Nobody seems to want to talk.”
“I think everybody is a bit scared right now, to be honest. With the Armistice coming the way it did and all. We’d all assumed our call-up papers were on the way and we’d be Army conscripts by the end of the year. Now, the war is over we don’t know what is happening.”
“The war isn’t over, David. It’s just started. It has a long, long time to run yet. And then there’s the greater war as well.” Rachael looked at him out of the comers of her eyes, measuring him to see how he reacted to the comment.
“I agree, That Man has made a horrible mistake and we’ll all pay dearly for it.” Newton was suddenly aware of how quickly the phrase “That Man” with reference to Lord Halifax had slipped into the language. He wasn’t even sure how it had happened. “What do you mean by ‘the greater war’?”
“Why, the war between capitalists and proletariat of course. Between the exploiters and the exploited. The class struggle will go on no matter what That Man says.”
The venom behind her use of ‘That Man’ was startling. “Well, I see things a bit differently, Rachael. I think that the Nazis will kill us all, capitalist and worker alike, if we don’t finish them off first. We’ve all got to stick together or we’ll all be wiped out. Look, this is the Fine Arts library. Perhaps we can talk a bit more about this later. Over tea in the canteen, perhaps? My classes finish at five.”
Rachael hesitated. “I have a bit of a problem with the food offered at the canteen. It’s not kosher, you see. But I suppose tea will be all right. See you there at six?”
Michael Collin’s Home, Long Island, New York
Sir Humphrey Appleday drained his glass, but it was no good. He had come over from London as part of a delegation with the British Purchasing Commission and had consulted with Phillip Stuyvesant on the matter of small craft for the Royal Navy. This evening was his first opportunity since the catastrophic news from London to talk over more pressing matters. There was the mystery of Winston Churchill, for example. The man appeared to have dropped off the face of the earth; no mean achievement for such a rabid publicity-hound. Unfortunately, Appleday had run into Michael Collins first and the two had exchanged ill-tempered words after a little finely-judged provocation from Nell.
Igrat had intercepted him with a full glass and her most seductive smile. She might have a morally flexible outlook on life, even by the standards of New York, but she was an excellent hostess. Appleday sighed gently, his anger leaving him. It was simply impossible for a man to remain angry when Igrat was plying him with drink; although in most cases, her victim would have been wiser to remain angry, alert and sober. They had usually paid for their mistake with their wallets and, on one recent occasion, all their clothes. In that case, her victim had been an aspiring New York politician with strongly pro-Nazi views. One call to a newspaper had followed another to his wife and the scandal had ruined him. Appleday returned her smile with a rueful grin, “I really walked into that little dispute, didn’t I?”
“Like a newling kitten.” Igrat’s humor took any sting out of her words. “Don’t blame Nell; we all react to danger in different ways. Phillip gets all careful and calculating, Mike gets rash, I get lecherous and Nell gets playful. And what she’s doing tomorrow and thereafter isn’t safe. The Pan Am clipper to Shannon will be secure enough, but after that? But, family calls and she’s off to do her duty by them. She’ll have Achillea and Gusoyn with her, so that’s going to help.”
Igrat leaned forward and Appleday found himself looking down the front of her dress. “Now, if you want to get back at Mike, take me away from the party. That’ll set him off nicely.”
Appleday was appalled. “And what will he do to you?”
“He’s drunk, so he’ll take a swing at me. He’ll miss, of course. I’m really good at getting out of the way. Hearing about it will make Nell feel bad as well, so you’ll get a double-barrelled revenge. Want to try it?” Igrat wriggled her shoulders slightly.
“And put you at risk of taking a blow, for the sake of cheap revenge? I’d rather swallow the insult.”
Igrat’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why, Humpty, you say the nicest things. You are a gentleman aren’t you? I’m touched, I really am. But really, don’t worry about Mike. He knows very well that if ever one of those swings connects, I’ll be gone and never coming back.”
Appleday looked at her, slightly suspicious that she might be poking fun at him, but her sincerity was obvious. In fact, Igrat was always slightly surprised when she found out that people cared about her. The mental scars from neglect, exploitation and abuse in her early childhood were still there, underneath the stylish, hard exterior. He decided it was time to change the subject. “So how does everybody else react to danger?”
“Oh, Lillith takes off in the opposite direction. Naamah fades into the background and will probable poison the person responsible. Achillea goes towards it carrying every weapon she can find. Achillea’s going to England with Nell, you know. Help look after her.”
“There shouldn’t be any risk.” Appleday thought carefully. “If anything, this is probably the best possible time to go to England. It might be the last chance anybody gets for a long time.”
“It’s going to be that bad over there?” Igrat was genuinely surprised by the comment. “I know your team has elected to stay over here rather than go back to England, but I thought Lord Halifax was going to try and keep Britain out of Germany’s reach?”
Appleday sighed, then reminded himself that anything he said to Igrat would be repeated back to Stuyvesant in exactly the same pitch, tone and emphasis that he had used. “Halifax has bought some time, that’s all. Britain must be either within the German political gestalt or an enemy of it. Its economy, war industries and geographic position all dictate that. The Germans know that invasion is impossible. After all, the German is not an aquatic beast and crossing the Channel is a far more intractable problem than any mere river. They’ve foregone the direct, brutal and rapid approach in favor of a slower absorption, but the policy end is the same. German control over Great Britain. They’ll make smal
l demands, each quite reasonable on its own and Halifax will accept them rather than fight. Then, one day, he’ll wake up and find the whole country has slipped through his fingers. One may always keep the peace if one is prepared to pay the asking price, but I have to ask whether Halifax has even bothered to ask for the statement of account.”
Appleday paused and tried to fight back the tears that were forming in his eyes. He could see what was going to happen so clearly; the fact that Halifax and his accomplices couldn’t filled him with despair. “We have to set up a government in exile, but to do that we need a leader, somebody people can identify with. A group of civil servants won’t be good enough. We need Winnie out and over here, or somebody very like him, and there isn’t anybody quite like Winnie. But, returning to Nell’s visit, everything should be all right now. I think we can be sure there will be a few Gestapo officers in Britain already ‘to find escaped criminals’ or some such excuse, but as for the rest, that will take time. A thousand years of tradition and the slow, painful growth of liberty thrown out in a day. Yes, Igrat, if Nell or anybody else goes to England, now will be the time. Because a long, difficult night is coming and I do not know if we will see the end of it. Or what bringing in a new dawn will cost.”
Government House, Calcutta, India
“Well, Martyn, we’ve had an interesting communication from Bangkok.”
Sir Martyn Sharpe raised his eyebrows in surprise. “From Bangkok? What do they want?”
Sir Eric Haohoa took a delicate sip from his glass of sherry. “As a matter of fact, they asked for nothing. They just supplied us with a complete copy of the Armistice agreement signed between London and Germany on the 19th. They said we ought to have a copy for our records.”
“You mean, they have a complete copy of the agreement and we do not!” Sir Martyn was outraged, and his anger contrasted sharply with the quiet calm displayed by the Assistant Deputy Cabinet Secretary. “That is too bad of London, it is just too bad. They have told us nothing?”
“Still no word, Martyn. London is as quiet as the grave. Our most urgent telegrams have met with no response. As far as they are concerned, the Dominions simply do not exist.”
“What else did the Siamese say?”
Sir Eric coughed gently. “They are Thais now, Martyn. The message came from ‘The Ambassador-Plenipotentiary for the King’. Who this person is, we have no real idea. We have asked our local sources out there and they do not know, although some say it has been rumored for many years that the Royal Family has an emissary who expresses their wishes and desires to the government in an unofficial manner. A fixer and trouble-shooter, if you will forgive the Americanisms. If this person is the Ambassador from whom their message to us is sourced, then his contact with us must be approved at the highest levels in the government.”
“‘We ought to have a copy for our files.’ Whoever he is, this Ambassador has a nice sense of humor.” Sir Martyn chuckled at the offhand remark.
“Indeed so. He also says that, once the situation stabilizes, there ought to be a meeting between our two countries to discuss security and trade arrangements in the region.”
Sir Martyn looked reflective at that additional part of the message. “They’re assuming there will be a break between ourselves and London over this Armistice. Otherwise they would be seeking a meeting with London directly.”
“That’s the Cabinet Office interpretation, certainly. Sir Richard was all set to send them a blistering reply to the effect that they should contact London, but he was reminded that doing so would be a Foreign Department matter and that a response should be approved either by the head of the Foreign Department or by Cabinet. He did not take that well. There is something else as well that may relate to this.”
Sir Eric hesitated. “You know the routing of submarine cable communications in this part of the world? The main line comes from the Middle East and comes ashore at Bombay. From there, the main trunk route runs to Singapore and then splits, one part going south to Australia and the other heading east to Manila, Hong Kong and Japan. Of those three, the main lines are to Hong Kong of course. The line to Manila then goes across the Pacific to the west coast of the United States.”
Sir Martyn nodded. “And?”
“Our contacts within American Telephone & Telegraph Company say that the Thai Government has approached them for a quotation on expanding the capacity of their telegraph link to that system. At the moment, it’s barely adequate for local traffic only. The expansion requested would make their link equivalent in capacity to the main trunk cable. When they were told of the cost of that operation and the time schedule, their response was that the cable was needed urgently and they would pay a substantial premium if the work was started immediately. They would pay an even larger premium if the work was completed within a year. That’s a deal AT&T can hardly refuse, and it will give the Thais as good communications with Australia and ourselves as any in the world.”
“What the devil are they playing at? That’s a huge investment for a country of their financial standing. How are they paying?”
“Our sources say, they offer payment in gold.” Sir Eric spoke that softly. “Apparently, the management of American Telephone & Telegraph Company have gold fever and see bars of gold bullion decorating the accounts at the next stockholder’s meeting. They’re searching for a cable-laying ship while we speak. That doesn’t answer why, of course.”
Sir Martyn thought the whole matter over. “It could be that they see the Armistice as being the fuse that sets this whole region ablaze. They could be right there, you know. The Dutch East Indies are restive; with the Netherlands occupied, authority there is unclear. The French will not last much longer. With Britain out, they’ll fold in a day or two at most. That means Indo-China is also on its own resources. Then we have our own problems here and there’s the Japanese in China. This whole area could come apart at the seams and they may well want to be in a position to know what is going on. Good, secure communications would be worth their weight in gold. And that is just what they are paying.”
Sir Martyn was interrupted by his intercom bleeping. “There’s a diplomatic messenger for Sir Eric waiting. He says its very urgent.”
“Send him in.” The two men exchanged ‘uh-oh’ glances.
Sri Eric signed for the package and opened it. Then he went white with shock. “Martyn, we have just received our word from London. It states that we are to comply with the terms of the Armistice without question and that the terms of the agreement as negotiated in London are binding upon us. We are reminded that the system of Imperial Preference upon which our economy depends is contingent upon us maintaining the agreements signed by the British Government on our behalf. Martyn, this is as close to an ‘or else’ ultimatum as I have ever seen from London.”
“Do as you are told like good little boys or mummy will spank.” Sir Martyn spoke bitterly. “Who do they think we are?”
CHAPTER THREE: ANALYSIS OF ALTERNATIVES
Bestwood Lodge, Arnold, Nottinghamshire, United Kingdom
“This will not do; this will not do at all.” Churchill chomped down on his cigar and stared ferociously at his whisky-soda as he stomped backwards and forwards. “These are times when we, as a nation, must rise to meet the challenge and end the threat of dark tyranny that hangs over us all. We must stand up and fight this abomination that has taken place. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves, that if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, ‘this was their finest hour.’“
The Duke of St. Albans applauded the bravado with a strong dose of irony at its incongruousness. “Well done, Winston. That would have made a great speech in Parliament.”
“It would have been one. I had it all written, but That Man forestalled me. He has silenced me, and when the time comes, I will silence him. There will be no last speech from the scaffold for him. He will lose his head in silence.”
“Speaking of los
ing heads, Winston, we cannot afford you losing yours. And you will if you appear now. You said it yourself the first night you appeared here. Protective custody one day, found dead in your cell the next. The Commonwealth is looking for leadership and you, you alone, can provide it. We have to get you to Canada. If we do not, the Commonwealth will not last one year, let alone one thousand.”
“That may be easier said than done.” Churchill was thoughtful. The dreadful depression that had blanketed him earlier was lifting at last; his mind was already beginning to range through the possibilities. “You are right, of course. There is nothing to be done here. It would be better if That Man had actually broken the law anywhere but damn him, everything he did was legal. He brings shame upon the whole concept of the rule of law.”
The Duke mentally raised his eyebrows. Every time the subject of Halifax came up, Churchill went off into these diatribes. He was obsessed with revenge and it seemed he could think of nothing else. The problem was, there was so much else to think about. “Winston, it’s not just a matter of getting you out. That will be difficult enough. We have to deny the Germans as much of our technical and operational expertise as well. I’ve spoken, discretely of course, with Sir Henry Tizard about this and he’s putting together a group of his people from the Aeronautical Research Committee. They directed the development of radar, so I am told. The object is to get to the United States as soon as possible to brief them on a number of technical innovations. This has been planned for some time, so I understand, with the original aim of securing assistance in maintaining the war effort. In view of the way circumstances have changed, I believe that it will be necessary simply to give the Americans every piece of information we can.”
“A last bequest from a dying man to his children.” Churchill’s depression was reasserting itself. He scowled at the room in general and drained his glass. Quietly, the Duke feared for the future of his whisky supply if this visit continued much longer. “Is that what we have come to?”