by Hugh Ashton
“It’s happened before over more trivial matters. I have a feeling that it’s not the whole story. Have you any idea what John Summers’s financial position is?”
“No, not really. I guess he’s quite well off. He gets a decent salary from his job, and there’s a lot of family money, some of which is probably already his, and the rest will come to him soon, I reckon.”
“Can you check?” Henry Dowling wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. He was aware that he must seem somewhat over-excited, and even too insistent, but he had the inner certainty that had preceded his leaps of intuition in the past.
“Not legally,” replied Gatt. “Are you really asking me to look through his bank records? We can’t do that, you know.”
“Even if it exposes your traitor? Young Travers gave a rather graphic account of what you’d like to do to the traitor if you discovered his identity.”
“Darn it, Henry, we have laws about this kind of thing.”
“So do we, my dear fellow. But how do you think we caught that man in the war that I was telling you about at the wedding? We had our suspicions, we got the appropriate permission from our lords and masters, and we toddled round to the fellow’s bank. It’s amazing what the right signature on official paper does to a banker’s soul, and we got what we wanted inside twenty minutes. Don’t you have any kind of system like that?”
“Well, I suppose…”
“Come on, you know you do. And you’re certainly friendly enough with the powers in the land such as Frank Kellogg, aren’t you?” Gatt nodded. “I know what’s eating you. You’re friends with John Summers. You brought him into all of this, didn’t you? And you feel responsible for him, right?”
“Right,” Gatt nodded sadly.
“I understand. Now I’m going to tell you something else about the man who I helped to have shot. He was my cousin. My mother’s sister’s son.”
Gatt exploded in a coughing fit. “But you thought he was innocent at the start, didn’t you?” he said, when he’d recovered the power of speech.
“Oh no. I knew from the beginning that he was guilty. And I liked him as well, you know. We’d grown up quite close as children. Spent holidays at each other’s houses, that sort of thing. A thoroughly likable and pleasant young man. But weak when it came to any kind of gambling. I knew that from when we were at school together. He’d always liked the horses and cards, and he bet far more money than I knew he could afford.”
“But he was your cousin!” protested Gatt. “Couldn’t you have saved him?”
“I didn’t have that kind of influence. In any case, he was a traitor. It was war. If he was in debt there were other ways for him to get his way out of the money mess. In any case, Vernon, the point of my little story is not to cast me as a villain, but to help you realize that this is a game for professionals. My friend’s probably getting his balls smashed to pulp in Richmond right now, if they haven’t beaten him to death already, and you mince around all high and mighty with some kind of—what’s your word? candy-ass principles.”
“Ouch. What a way you have with words, Henry. If we investigate John’s finances and his banks and we don’t find anything suspicious, will that satisfy you?”
“I suppose it will have to, since you’re not going to sweat him under the bright lights. It’s a start, put it that way.”
Chapter 35: Cordele Airship Station, Georgia, Confederate States of America
“What danger of assassins could there possibly be to Hitler and the rest of them on board an airship?”
It was early in the morning. Brian didn’t know the exact time. He’d been working for several hours on the latest message from Henry Dowling contained in Miss Justin’s account of the preparations for the wedding.
He passed the piece of paper containing the decoded message to the other two men who had just joined him in the room. “That’s all there is, I’m afraid. Sorry.”
“So, even after all your magic tricks, we’re left with very little?” complained Vickers.
“It looks like it. Just a vague suggestion to blow up the shed without the airship in it. Well, that’s not going to get rid of Hitler or Jeff Davis, is it?”
“So we have to shoot down the airship with all the Nazis and the crew on board?” said Vickers.
“It would be the answer, if everyone including the Confederate Cabinet was going to be in it,” pointed out Weisstal. “It’s just going to be the Nazis, as you say. Exactly how were you going to get rid of Davis?” he asked Vickers.
“Our thoughts weren’t very precise on that matter,” admitted Vickers. “We had vague notions of shooting down the airship as it landed and watching the whole of the reception party go up in the explosion.”
“Wrong,” said Brian, shortly. “From what I know of the airships shot down over London, they didn’t explode, they just burned like fury, and the fire was pretty much localized in the gas-bags. Correct, Major?”
“Correct,” confirmed Weisstal. “I thought you’d thought this out a little better,” he complained to Vickers. “This really isn’t going to work out.”
“Well, we could arrest Davis and his Cabinet in the confusion, I suppose.”
“Doesn’t seem an awfully realistic plan, old boy.” Brian stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “Quite apart from any other considerations. What time is it, by the way?”
Vickers looked at his watch. “About half-past five. Time we put you back in your cell.” They were in an unused kitchen. Brian had requested a room with running water, a source of heat and a table for his work on the message, and this seemed to be the only available room that met all these requirements. As agreed, Brian had kept the others out of the room while he read his messages, and had cleared everything away before letting them in again.
“Sorry not to be of more use,” said Brian. “By the way, Colonel, is David Slater still working for you?”
“Yes, of course. Why?”
“Would you let him come and see me? I’d like to talk with him. Maybe play a game of chess.”
“As long as you realize that a guard will be listening to the conversation. There’s no way I can manage it any other way without some suspicion falling on myself.”
“Fine.”
“Okay, I’ll make arrangements for him to visit you some time soon. It probably won’t be for more than an hour. Come on then, prisoners back to their cells. Do you want your shaving tackle and so on?” pointing to the bag in which Brian had repacked all his effects.
“I assume you searched it for dangerous objects? I noticed my razor was missing.”
“Of course. We’ll continue to have you shaved. It might look strange, otherwise.”
-o-
David was let into Brian’s cell some time later that morning. He was carrying a chess set with him.
“Reckon we’re all in a mite of trouble,” he smiled, but there was a worried look to his pinched face.
“Some of us are in more trouble than others, David, old man,” replied Brian. “Look, you told me straight out that you’d never do anything to hurt the Confederacy. And you haven’t done a thing against your country—your only problem is that you got too friendly with the wrong person.” The last sentences were spoken in a slightly raised voice, intended to be heard by the guard standing at the cell door.
“That’s better,” grinned David. “I was kind of missing your British accent. Lewis Levoisin never did seem that right to me.” He pointed to the chess board. “Want a game?”
They set out the pieces. “So now you’re working with Colonel Vickers?” asked Brian. “Don’t you miss the airship handling?”
“Kind of,” replied David. “But Colonel Vickers doesn’t seem to be that bad a man. And I’ve been learning all kinds of new things in the last few days that I wouldn’t have found out else.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, you mustn’t tell me anything. You can see I’m not exactly welcome here, and as you said just now, you’re in more than a mite of trouble just for knowing
me.”
David moved his knight, and the game continued.
“You know,” said David after a few more moves, “I sure would prefer it if your pieces were all in one corner so that I could take them all at the same time. You’re spread out all over the board.”
“Well, I’m glad I’m giving you something to think about.”
“Have you met Major Weisstal yet?” asked David.
“No,” Brian lied. “Why should I have done?” He moved his rook. “What did you say just then, David?” he asked.
“Weren’t you listening, then? You just answered me. ‘Have you met Major Weisstal?’ is what I just said to you.”
“No, before that.”
“Can’t rightly recall. Oh yeah. I was saying that it would be easier if all your pieces were in one corner. But it doesn’t matter, anyhow. Check, and mate in three.”
“I don’t know why I even bother trying,” said Brian, resigning the game. “Hear anything from the guys in the 3rd Alabama?”
“Not a lot. None of them’s good writers. Anyway, airships are more fun. Shame it seems as though I’m not going to be the one to be looking after her when she comes.”
“Too bad,” agreed Brian.
“There was even a chance I might have gotten to fly on her, you know. We all of us wanted to fly on the airship, but I figured it was going to be me if they were going to take any of us, because I was the sergeant in charge of the handling party.”
Aha, Brian thought to himself. The seed of an idea was starting to germinate in his head.
-o-
“It was playing chess with David that gave me the idea,” Brian said that night. “He was complaining that my pieces were all over the board and he couldn’t win so easily.”
“Yes?” said Vickers.
“Well, isn’t that our problem? That our opponents are all over the board, meaning we can’t take them all at once?”
“Agreed,” said Weisstal.
“And then he said that he wanted to fly on the airship.”
“So?”
“So the answer is that we put them all on the airship, all the Confederates and Nazis together. All the eggs in one basket.”
“Tell me what you mean,” demanded Weisstal.
“Look, it’s simple. We let the Bismarck dock at the mooring mast as planned. We take off half the crew who aren’t needed on board for a short flight, and replace them with Jefferson Davis and his cabinet. Dump ballast as necessary. Then the Bismarck takes off again for a flight of a few hours at the most with her distinguished Confederate passengers as guests of the Nazis. Maybe she flies over Atlanta, but I think that’s too far for this little trip. When it approaches Cordele, the crew still on board leave the airship in midair, which then suffers a mysterious accident and all left on the airship tragically perish.”
“It sounds as though there would be too many loose ends, and a lot of people would be suspicious,” objected Vickers.
“A damned sight less suspicious than a mysterious disappearance of Davis and his Cabinet, for sure.”
“A detail,” enquired Weisstal. “What kind of mysterious accident are you thinking of?”
“Actually, it needn’t be that mysterious. We’re talking about leaving a bunch of politicians two or three thousand feet up in the air with no way of getting down. How mysterious do you want it to be? They might even starve to death floating around up there. And the gallant Major Weisstal could be in constant contact on the wireless, telling Jeff Davis what wheel to turn to come back down.”
“Thank you, but I think I’ll forego that pleasure,” said Weisstal stiffly. “But it makes sense, all the same. There should be a backup to ensure an accident, if there is no real accident forthcoming, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely,” agreed Brian. “I’m sure we can think of something.”
“It is really a good way to kill two birds with one rock,” said Weisstal.
“‘Stone’,” Brian corrected. “The phrase is ‘two birds with one stone’.”
“Excuse me,” interrupted Vickers. “We have a slight problem which you two don’t seem to have considered. There is nothing in the official plans for the visit that calls for the Confederate executive branch to travel on the Bismarck.”
“Then it’s up to you two to make sure that it happens. Colonel, you did say to me that you were fairly close to the top of things? I’m sure it would be possible for you to make a suggestion to Mr. Davis? Someone told me he was interested in aviation.”
“He can’t just invite himself,” pointed out Vickers. “There would have to be an invitation.”
“And that’s your job, Major,” added Brian cheerfully, turning to Weisstal. “When is the Bismarck due to depart from Friedrichshafen?”
Weisstal looked at his watch, and did a brief mental calculation. “Weather permitting, in about 48 hours.”
“Then you have time to send a cable to Goering or whoever you’re reporting to in Berlin and get him to send an official invitation. Tell him that President Davis has expressed a strong desire to experience a flight on the Bismarck. And you,” turning back to Vickers, “your job is to tell President Davis that Goering has expressed a strong desire to invite him as a guest on the Bismarck.”
The two other men looked at each other and started to laugh. “If that isn’t the best example of playing both ends against the middle, then I don’t know what is,” said Vickers.
“Make sure that the whole of the Confederate Cabinet gets on there,” Brian reminded them.
“And what are you going to be doing?” asked Vickers.
“Well, as a captured spy who’s also probably wanted by the Nazis, I think I’m not likely to be showing my face around the place too much. The other thing we have to do is to get some sort of message to your airship captain—Eckener, isn’t it?—and let him know what’s going on, without alerting his passengers.”
“Better to wait until he’s in the air. I am sure the base at Friedrichshafen will be crawling with the Nazis and their political police. We’ve already established the radio protocols between the airship and here. We’ll be using a special variation of the standard Army code, and a frequency no-one else is using, as far as we know.”
“How sure are you of Eckener?” Vickers asked Weisstal.
“I’m sure that he’s anti-Nazi. He’s famous for it, and he would have been replaced as captain for this flight if there was anyone better. It was Goering who put his foot down and complained that he wasn’t going to be piloted by a political hack, and he preferred a good pilot to a good Nazi.”
“Hermann Goering sounds like a man of sense,” said Vickers.
“Except that in this case, of course, the good Nazi would be a better choice for him than the good captain, or so we hope,” Brian pointed out.
“What about his crew?” asked Vickers.
“Eckener picks his own crews. I can’t imagine that he’s going to choose anyone who disagrees with him on politics.”
“And what security is on board to protect the Nazis?” asked Vickers.
Weisstal laughed. “What kind of security are you talking about? What danger of assassins could there possibly be to Hitler and the rest of them on board an airship? There’s no guard at all. My job includes the organization of the Germans here to protect them when they step off the airship, as you know, Colonel.”
“So to sum it all up,” said Brian, “if we can get a message to Eckener, letting him know what’s in the wind, we’re reasonably confident that he will take notice of it, and reasonably confident that his crew will follow him?”
“Essentially, yes,” replied Weisstal.
“Would you care to quote odds on that, Major?” asked Vickers.
“No, I’m not a gambling man, but I would say our chances are better than half that this will succeed.”
“Not very high,” commented Brian, sardonically. “And what happens if we fail?” The others looked at him curiously. “Come on, don’t you ever plan for the
worst?”
“No,” answered Weisstal. “Do you?”
“Always,” replied Brian.
“Ah,” Weisstal said. “I begin to understand why we lost the war against you Englishmen. You always knew what to do if things went wrong. We always assumed they’d go well, and planned accordingly, or rather, we failed to plan for failure.”
“Be that as it may,” put in Vickers. “I think that if we fail, you, Captain Finch-Malloy, will be shot as originally planned. As will I, no doubt. And you, Major?”
“Whatever happens, it won’t be pleasant. I shall make sure there is at least one bullet in my pistol at all times. You may choose to consider a similar option, Colonel.”