Beneath Gray Skies

by Hugh Ashton

  “It’s going to be one of the most difficult reports I’ve ever had to write in my entire life.”

  The sun was shining fiercely outside, and even at 10 o’clock on a Tuesday morning following a long holiday weekend it was unpleasantly warm, but the Office of Combined Trans-Atlantic Operations in the basement of the War Department remained relatively cool.

  Henry Dowling was seated at his desk in shirtsleeves, with his tie loosened. In London he would never dare work in such an informal costume, but he had to admit to himself that the Americans had the right ideas about many things, and dressing appropriately for the climate was one of them.

  Absently he checked his watch—Christopher, usually punctual, was nearly an hour and a half late this morning. He wondered what had happened.

  As if on cue, the door opened, and Christopher walked in, smartly dressed in a new light seersucker suit and a straw snap-brim hat. His tie was a thing of splendor, displaying a rainbow of bright colors against a snowy white shirt, and he himself was beaming from ear to ear.

  Henry covered his eyes with his hands, pretending to be dazzled by the vision.

  “Sorry I’m late, Henry,” called out Christopher cheerfully. “The train was a little late getting in.”

  “Where have you been that needs the train?” asked Henry. “And…?” he gestured towards the suit and hat.

  Christopher grinned. “I’ve been up to the Hamptons for the weekend to stay with Virginia and her folks. The Hamptons are in Long Island, New York, about an hour from New York by rail. The Wassersteins have a house in Westhampton and Virginia’s father invited me there.”

  Henry’s eyebrows shot up. “Virginia’s father? Not Virginia?”

  “Well,” Christopher admitted, “I’m not saying that Virginia had nothing to do with it. But it was her father who sent the invitation.”

  “And the suit? It certainly looks good on you, I have to say.”

  “We were talking at breakfast on Saturday, and I was mentioning the heat here in Washington.” Henry noticed with amusement that Christopher pronounced the name of the city in the local way; ‘Wash-none’. “So Papa Wasserstein made a telephone call and got his tailor to come round after breakfast, and he made me a suit before the evening. The tie’s Virginia’s choice, and so’s the hat.”

  “Er … Who paid for all this, Christopher?”

  “Mr. Wasserstein. Of course, I wanted to pay him, but he said that I was nearly family now, so he wasn’t going to let me pay.”

  “Nearly family?”

  “That’s why I’m so happy today, Henry. Virginia and I are engaged to be married in a month’s time. You will be my best man, I hope?”

  Henry gasped and his eyes bulged. He frantically reached for the water decanter on his desk and poured himself a glass. He gulped down the contents, which went down the wrong way, and he started coughing, turning bright red in the face. When he had started to breathe normally again, he glared at Christopher. “I thought I told you not to start any of that kind of thing. What did she say when you asked her?”

  “Well, sorry, Henry, but it wasn’t like that at all. We—that’s to say the whole family and I—were eating dinner on Friday night when she asked me when we were going to be married.”

  “The girl’s not meant to do the asking. That’s your job,” Henry objected.

  “That’s what I said to her, and her father laughed. He said that Virginia had written all about me in all her letters to them, and she’d been complaining that I was too slow, so she was going to push things along a bit.”

  “Have you been encouraging her?”

  “No, sir, I have not.” In his indignation, Christopher had gone back to calling Henry ‘sir’. “I’m sure she’s noticed that I like her—”

  “And you’re not to blame for that. Who couldn’t help liking her?” Henry offered, somewhat mollified by Christopher’s obvious indignation. “Remember, Christopher, I’m ‘Henry’, not ‘sir’, ” he said, gently.

  “Henry, believe me, I had no idea that I liked her that much until she asked the question. And I said ‘next month’ before I could think straight.”

  “And what did her parents say?”

  “Her father came over and shook my hand and said he was glad to have me as a son-in-law. And her mother came over and kissed me.”

  “How? Why?” asked Henry helplessly. “No, sorry, that sounds completely wrong. To be perfectly frank, Christopher, I am sure you’ll be a wonderful husband for Virginia, and I wish you both every happiness. Any father should be delighted to have you as a son-in-law. But people like the Wassersteins don’t usually welcome people of your race into their families. The fact that they’ve done so is a great credit to you, and I’m more proud of you than you can possibly imagine.”

  “I talked with Papa Wasserstein later that evening, and he said to me that before he met me, he would never have considered a Negro son-in-law. But since we talked, he realized that Jews were not the only people in the world who had experienced suffering, and that he had to look outside his own people a bit more.”

  “Well, well. I can’t think of anything more to say to you, except to call you a lucky dog, and hope you’re both really happy together, and yes, of course I’ll be your best man.” Henry rose to his feet with a somewhat dazed look on his face, and shook Christopher’s hand energetically.

  “What are you going to do with yourself when you’re married? I mean, you can probably continue working with me, but I am sure you’re going to want to stay in the USA, aren’t you?”

  “Well, a number of things came to my mind,” replied Christopher. “I was kind of hoping that I might be able to take over Virginia’s job. Seems like the Americans don’t like married ladies working, and I know what’s going on here. Also,” he added, “it would allow me to continue working with you.”

  “Well, thank you, Christopher. I’m touched by that.”

  “Or,” Christopher went on, “Papa Wasserstein has told me that I can have a job with him any time. And it wouldn’t be just a job for one of the family, he told me. It would be a real job.”

  “He’s being very frank with you, Christopher. That sounds like a good omen for the future. Now, do you think you can concentrate on work this morning?”

  “Oh, I think I can manage,” smiled Christopher.

  “I had some very interesting news which came in over the weekend. Guess where the Confederate airship terminal’s going to be, if the location of that Airship Support Regiment is anything to go by?”

  “Could be anywhere, I suppose.” Despite his earlier protestations, Christopher’s concentration seemed to be lacking.

  “No, it couldn’t, Christopher. You know it couldn’t. Put your mind to it, if you can. No, I’ll put you out of your misery. It’s going to be in a little place called Cordele in Georgia.” Henry grinned.

  It was Christopher’s turn to appear shocked. “My Lord!” was all he could say.

  “Christopher, I’ve just had an idea,” said Henry. He proceeded to elaborate.

  “Could you? Would you?” asked Christopher.

  “I am certainly willing to give it a try. But there could be a lot of obstacles in the way.”

  Christopher sighed.

  “Try not to build up your hopes too much, Christopher. Tell me more about the wedding. When, where, what. I know we’re never going to get any work done until you do.” He sighed good-naturedly.

  -o-

  Virginia came into the room about an hour later. She said nothing, but looked at Christopher and nodded significantly in Henry’s direction. Christopher nodded back.

  Henry caught the exchange and smiled. “Virginia, Christopher’s already told me the good news. I can’t decide who’s the luckier of the pair of you, but I’d like to wish you both every happiness for the future.”

  “Why, thank you,” replied Virginia, and came over to kiss the blushing Henry on the cheek.

  “I’m going to change the subject completely, if you’ll f
orgive me,” said Henry. “For your information, Virginia, it appears that the Confederate airship base is going to be in Cordele, Georgia.”

  “That’s really interesting,” said Virginia. “How lucky that we have someone who knows the town and the area,” and she smiled at Christopher, who smiled back.

  “You do realize, you two, that I’m going to have to tell London about the approaching nuptials, don’t you? It’s going to be one of the most difficult reports I’ve ever had to write in my entire life, and I can tell you, I’ve had some real stinkers.”

  “Poor Henry,” soothed Virginia. “But I’m sure you’ll manage.”

  “I’m sure I will,” agreed Henry. “But before I do that, I want to know all about Cordele. I know it has railways running through it, but I want to know what else is interesting about the place, and what we should know about it. Come on, Christopher, let me know everything there is to know about Cordele.”

  Chapter 23: Whitehall, London, United Kingdom, ten days after the last

  “I think I understand you, sir.”

  “I hope you bloody well do.”

  C put the report from Washington down on the polished desk.

  “This Service is getting more and more bizarre by the day. Curiouser and curiouser, wouldn’t you say, Parkes?”

  C’s assistant, who had read Dowling’s report before passing it over, shook his head in agreement. “I have to agree with you, sir. I thought I’d seen most things in my time here, but this really does take the cake.”

  “I must say, I liked the look of that Pole chappie when he was over here. Nicely spoken and a quick mind, and I have to say that I’m delighted to hear that he’s done so well for himself. If he does take over his wife’s job in this liaison business, then that’s a real plus for us, having someone who owes us a few favors, and will help us when we need it.”

  “What about the other big surprise?”

  “Oh, Bloody Brian, you mean? Officially, he’s nothing to do with us any more, ever since that fiasco in Berlin. But it really is an incredible coincidence, his being in the very house where Dowling was visiting Pole’s—what do I call this Miss—” he peered at the report again “Justin?”

  “Ex-mistress sounds a bit bawdy, I think, sir, and ex-owner makes him sound like a piece of property.”

  C’s voice was angry. “God damn it, Parkes, that’s exactly what the poor beggar was—property, like a horse or a chair or something.”

  “A clever idea of Dowling’s, using the delivery of a wedding invitation as an excuse to get down to Cordele for a dekko, you must admit, sir.”

  “Yes, it was.” C was not to be deflected from his tirade. “And there are millions of other poor souls in the same position as Pole used to be. That’s why we don’t have too many ties with those bastards in the Confederacy. We need some representation, I suppose, which is why we have a Legation in Richmond, but I would be most upset if we were ever to send a full ambassador there, or to accept their ambassadors here. So, I am happy to say, are our lords and masters. Every time it comes up in Cabinet it is promptly shot down in flames.”

  “A happy metaphor, if I may say so, sir, considering the matter under discussion.”

  “Oh, you mean the airship business, don’t you? Let’s come back to that later, shall we? Now where was I before you sidetracked me? Oh yes, Dowling meeting Finch-Malloy, who’s disguised as a Cajun or something. Do you know what one of those is, by the way?”

  “It’s a term used to describe a French-speaking inhabitant of Louisiana who came down from Acadia in Canada in the 18th century. The term ‘Acadian’ got corrupted to Cajun.”

  C looked at his assistant curiously. “Did you know that already, Parkes?” he asked.

  “No, sir. I had to look it up,” he confessed.

  “So did I, Parkes,” admitted C. “I wonder what the accent sounds like? Bloody Brian shouldn’t have much problem there. How many languages does he speak?”

  “The file says five fluently, and ten to a lesser degree.”

  “Hmph. Most people who speak a number of languages are only good at languages. Finch-Malloy does have other talents. I have to admit. Turning up in unexpected places and causing a certain degree of chaos wherever he goes seem to be two of them.”

  “If you say so, sir.”

  C was off again. “That little place seems to be taking on a lot of importance, ever since the Germans selected it as their airship terminal. Full of Germans and Confederate Army, it seems. And their slaves. Can you imagine, Parkes?” C’s voice rose in disbelief. “Can you imagine an army that runs itself using slaves?”

  “No, sir, I have to admit that I can’t.”

  “It makes my blood boil to think about it. Anyway, there’s this enormous shed going up near the river there, like the ones at Cuxhaven in the war, if you remember them. And they’re building a pipeline from Texas to Cordele, and then they’re going to get this special gas out of it to fill up the Zeppelins. That’s a lot of work, all happening at very high speed, it seems. And a lot of strange people in town.”

  “No wonder Dowling was able to get all the details of this information so easily. There must be a lot of strangers in town to talk to.”

  “Hard to hide a project that size, Parkes. It’s not a big town. What with the soldiers and the Germans, the population’s probably doubled overnight. Everyone must be talking about it.”

  “Anyway, Dowling must have had the shock of his life, walking into this woman’s house and seeing Finch-Malloy sitting there, sir?”

  “I’m sure he did, Parkes.”

  “It’s extremely convenient for us, isn’t it, sir?”

  “It would be convenient, I suppose, if their bloody police weren’t watching the place night and day. But it’s much too risky for Finch-Malloy to have anything to do with us. Even if he was officially connected with us, which I must remind you once again that he isn’t,” C added sternly. “I’m most surprised, I admit, that Dowling was able to get permission from them for this Miss Justin to travel up north for the wedding. I assume he had to lie through his teeth to get it to happen. Just how, I have no idea, and I don’t want to know. Henry Dowling can be a very tricky bugger when he chooses to be, Parkes. Be thankful that he is on our side, just like Bloody Brian. I wouldn’t want him to be working for the opposition.”

  “Going back to this airship business, sir? What do we do now the Germans have started to build this terminal at Cordele, and the Confeds have started their gas production plant there?”

  “I really have to agree with Dowling. It’s an enormous propaganda coup to have a fast, safe regular airship service across the Atlantic. It makes both Nazi Germany and the Confederacy look legitimate and respectable. And I don’t like the idea of legitimizing either of them. Speaking personally, of course, Parkes. As a servant of HM Government, of course I don’t hold any political views. But as an ordinary human being, what I hear about both those places makes my blood boil, and I would welcome almost any chance to humiliate them.”

  “So Dowling’s idea of wrecking the airship service before it starts is to go ahead, sir?”

  “I didn’t say that, Parkes,” snapped C. “I don’t like the idea of Dowling starting to play around with this kind of thing, or even worse, allowing the Yankees to do it for him. I know that what he’s proposing is a bloodless sabotage operation against the machines and facilities, and not against the people, but let us suppose there was some kind of accident in which many people were killed, and the blame was shifted to us? Where would we be then?”

  “Would we care? Especially if the Nazi bigwigs were on board the airship?”

  “Don’t tempt me, Parkes. Don’t tempt me. Yes, I saw that report from Berlin, and it is a very interesting thought indeed. What on earth do you think is the big secret about the cargo they’re sending over?”

  “I really have no idea.”

  “Nor me. However, there is no way I can give any official sanction to any such idea of sabotage. Nor c
an I give any official sanction to Finch-Malloy working for us in the future.” C stressed the word ‘official’ both times.

  “I think I understand you, sir.”

  “I hope you bloody well do, Parkes. Make sure my position is carefully explained to Henry Dowling in Washington as soon as possible.”

  Chapter 24: War Department, Washington DC, United States of America

  “What would I like in a perfect world? A great fiery explosion, destroying the pride of the German airship fleet, and taking all the top Nazis with it.”

  “I really don’t know how you Britishers do it,” exclaimed Vernon Gatt. Dowling had just informed him of the presence of Brian Finch-Malloy in Cordele at a private meeting where only the two of them were present. “You people get everywhere without us noticing. So what are we going to do about this latest amazing piece of good fortune down in Cordele?”