by Phil Ward
“Ahhh . . .”
“Dudley has led a tumultuous love life,” Lady Jane said. “Two head-over-heels affairs, one right after the other, with women he intended to marry. Jilted—each time.
“One of his lovers literally left him waiting at the station in Bulgaria after he made a long train trip across Europe to marry her before the war.
“A female friend was on hand to greet him when he arrived. She explained his fiancée was running late. And then disappeared with the suitcase full of money Dudley had smuggled into the country for his intended—who never showed.”
Col. Randal said, “That’s the worst story I’ve ever heard.”
“Agreed,” Lady Jane said. “Dudley is a man who loves beautiful women. While they enjoy his company, women do not fall for him. They never see him as more than a friend.”
“Left the man standing at the station and stole his money,” Col. Randal said. “Damn!”
“Christine is his newest Duchess,” Lady Jane said.
Col. Randal said, “I don’t believe she was ever Miss Poland.”
• • •
Commander Ian Fleming, rnvr, straight off a plane out from the UK, walked into the restaurant. The maître d’ pointed toward the palm. As he made his way to the back of the room, the debonair Naval Intelligence officer waved to his brother, Peter, who was having a drink at the bar with Captain David Stirling.
Cmdr. Fleming walked up to the table where Colonel John Randal and Major the Lady Jane Seaborn were sitting.
He said, “GOLDEN FLEECE.”
It was the second-most secret code word in the British Empire (neither Col. Randal nor Lady Jane was cleared to know how high its security classification actually was). Number two in priority only to CROMWELL, which would announce that the Nazi invasion of England was in progress—if that ever happened.
Col. Randal said, “I guess that means no dessert.”
14
BLACK CAT OR LUCKY LADY
Commander Ian Fleming waited until they arrived back at RFHQ and were in the privacy of Colonel John Randal’s and Major the Lady Jane Seaborn’s third-floor suite to begin his briefing. James “Baldie” Taylor was waiting when they came in.
“Singapore is about to fall,” Cmdr. Fleming said. “The Japs landed in Malaya six weeks ago. Lieutenant General Arthur Percival did not seem concerned or do much about it. He estimated it would take up to a year for the Nips to make their way through the ‘impenetrable’ jungle. Besides, British Forces outnumbered the Japanese three to one.
“Additionally, the 8th Australian Division arrived, increasing the numerical advantage for our side even more. The Aussie division commander is on record saying, ‘One Australian is equal to ten of the little yellow bastards.’
“According to Field Marshal Percival ‘the Japanese all wear glasses, which make them poor soldiers. If they have bad eyesight and cannot shoot straight . . . well, that makes them even worse pilots. Not to worry—Singapore is the Gibraltar of the Far East.’”
Cmdr. Fleming opened an elegant silver case and took out one of his custom-blended cigarettes with three gold rings on the tip.
“The Japanese Air Force swept in, blew the RAF’s Brewster Buffalos out of the sky, sank the battleships Prince of Wales and the Repulse and now have achieved air superiority over the fortress.
“Nipponese infantry, mounted on bicycles, launched a lighting attack down the only hard-topped track, and the impenetrable jungle proved not to be so impenetrable. You see, all the big guns in Singapore were pointed the wrong way—out to sea.”
Jim said, “True to form, the wily Japs failed to cooperate with Percival’s plan. They chose not to land right in front of the coastal artillery batteries where he wanted them to. Came in the back door, kept coming—swarming over, around or through any obstacle.
“Now the Japanese are ensconced on the outskirts of the city,” Cmdr. Fleming said.
“Percival is the archetypical Colonel Blimp-type officer who has led our army from defeat to defeat starting day one of the war,” Jim said. “The general is so stupid he needs to be in an institution. And he will be soon enough—a POW camp.”
“The Japanese intent is to humiliate Europeans,” Cmdr. Fleming said. “The Land of the Rising Sun is not a signatory to the Geneva Convention, so the Nips have no moral constraints. They have proven to be astonishingly savage.”
Jim said, “We have a confirmed report that they captured a military hospital, bayoneted over four hundred Australian patients plus all the doctors and nurses. It is said they have raped every woman the length of the peninsula—possibly an exaggeration—or not.
“The fools took photos, then had local Chinese chemists develop the pictures—because Japan has been at war with China since 1937, SOE has copies.”
Cmdr. Fleming said, “I brought a few along with me, which I shall show you in private, Colonel, unless you have an interest in gang rape snuff photos, Lady Jane.”
“Gang rape,” Lady Jane said, “has always been one of my favorite genres of pornography, Ian.”
“In conclusion,” Cmdr. Fleming said, regretting the weak attempt at humor, “our navy is sunk.”
“The air force has been shot down. There is no central command structure functioning in Singapore. Soldiers are deserting their posts—estimates run as high as a third of the army being absent at any given time.
“Chaos reigns in the city and there is rioting in the streets.
“Am I painting a sufficiently bleak picture of the situation? Singapore will be the biggest military defeat in the history of the British Empire—over eighty thousand Commonwealth troops are going in the bag and there is nothing we can do about it.”
Col. Randal said, “You traveled all the way out to Egypt to tell me a war story?”
“Actually,” Cmdr. Fleming said, “yes.”
“Why are you here, Ian?” Lady Jane asked, not happy. She knew people living in Singapore. It was supposed to be the safest place in the British Empire.
Lady Jane also knew this was not a social call.
“The Far East Combined Bureau,” Cmdr. Fleming said, “Bletchley Park’s super-secret cryptographic outpost in Singapore. Twenty-four people—eighteen men, six women stationed in the city. Not a single one can be allowed to fall into Japanese hands.
“Colonel Randal, your mission, conveyed verbally to me by the Prime Minister, is to fly to Singapore and evacuate the Bureau personnel. In the event your assignment cannot be accomplished with absolute certainty—eliminate any possibility of their capture at all costs.”
“You mean,” Col. Randal said, “kill them?”
Cmdr. Fleming said, “Dead men tell no tales.”
• • •
“Mandy,” Colonel John Randal ordered. “Have Major Sansom locate Mud Cat Ray and deliver him to RFHQ most immediate.”
“Anything else, John?”
“Find Billy Jack, Roy and King and have them report to me,” Col. Randal said. “What’s Pam’s ETA?”
Lieutenant Mandy Paige said, “She and Wing Commander Gordon landed thirty minutes ago with the last of the Raiding Forces personnel being flown back from what the Raiders are calling ‘Teddy’s Turkey Shoot.’”
“Have Pam report here too,” Col. Randal said. “Be discreet—the Wing Commander is not on the ‘need to know’ list.”
“Understood.”
“Is Jim still here?”
“He is in the bedroom he maintains, John,” Lt. Mandy said.
“Ask him to come see me at his earliest convenience,” Col. Randal said. “Then I need you to stay on the desk in King’s place.”
“Yes, sir,” Lt. Mandy said. “John, surely you are not alerted for another mission?”
Col. Randal said, “I’m taking a vacation.”
Red arrived. The Flying Clipper Girl, who was also in the employ of MI-6, said, “John, I have been tasked with making the arrangements for your air travel.
“Pam will fly you and your party to RA
F Habbaniya. From there you will transfer from the Hudson to a BOAC Flying Clipper that has been diverted for this mission because it has the range to fly to the Port of Chennai.
“Upon arrival in India, you will transfer to a Catalina which will fly your team on to Singapore. Once there, the PBY will have to refuel while you go ashore and recover the Bureau personnel for the immediate return trip.
“I shall travel with you as far as the Port of Chennai—afraid you have to make the final leg of the outbound journey to Singapore on your own, John.”
“I can do that,” Col. Randal said.
“When your party arrives back from Singapore, everyone will board the Flying Clipper for the return flight to RAF Habbaniya. At that point, the Bureau personnel will continue on to the UK while we fly here to RFHQ.
“How many people do you anticipate taking with you?” Red asked.
“Three,” Col. Randal said.
“Works perfectly,” Red said. “The outbound flight shall be virtually empty while the return will be close to capacity.
“Any questions, John?”
“How’s Terry doing?”
“He is doing well,” Red said. “The doctor says Terry should be able to perform light duty in about three weeks.”
“I was hoping to have him released to RFHQ to take charge here while I’m gone,” Col. Randal said. “Pretty light duty—he could do it from bed.”
“Probably not on, John,” Red said, her Clipper Girl-cool cracking a bit. “Terry was gravely injured—loves to say ‘it’s always darkest before pitch-black.’”
Col. Randal said, “He almost made it to full fade out.”
James “Baldie” Taylor arrived, looking casual in loafers, slacks and a knit shirt.
“You needed to see me, Colonel?”
Col. Randal said, “Anything about Singapore I need to know, General?”
“Afraid I have not been out there in years,” Jim said. “Colonel, I have to confess to being stunned by the implosion of our army. The British Empire is spiraling out of control—the loss of Singapore will make Pearl Harbor seem like a sideshow in comparison.”
Col. Randal said, “I’d appreciate it if you would get with Fleming, go over his plan with a microscope to see if he’s got all the bases covered. He’s not an operations man.”
“Do it right now,” Jim said.
“The need for your mission I do not understand—those cryptanalysts should have been evacuated long before now,” he said.
“The why, I understand loud and clear—those signals people cannot be captured. The Japs would need about thirty seconds to crack the lot of them. Cruelest torturers in the world—the Nazis are rank amateurs in comparison.”
Lieutenant Roy Kidd and ex-Lieutenant Billy Jack Jaxx walked in as Jim was leaving.
“Roy says there was only one last high-altitude bombing attack after we departed the area, sir,” ex-Lt. Jaxx said. “I thought Teddy’s decoy operation was supposed to be a camping trip, not the Gunfight at the OK Corral.”
“That’s the way I had it figured too, Jack,” Col. Randal said.
“Same here, sir,” Lt. Kidd said. “What a shootout—can’t believe we got away with none of our people getting anything more than a few scratches.”
“I’m flying out this afternoon for Singapore,” Col. Randal said, changing the subject. “You two studs are coming with me.”
Ex-Lt. Jaxx and Lt. Kidd perked up.
“This is a quick in and out,” Col. Randal said. “You’ll be briefed later, but the main idea is we have to bring out a team of two dozen radio operators with high-security clearances before the town falls.”
“Singapore about to be overrun?” ex-Lt. Jaxx said. “What happened? All the BBC nightly news stories we’ve been listening to night after night while on patrol talk about it being the ‘Gibraltar of the Far East’.”
“Roger that, sir,” Lt. Kidd said, “We can defend Singapore from the ‘Yellow Peril’ for a thousand years or until hell freezes over—whichever comes first.”
“I don’t think the Japanese were listening to the BBC,” Col. Randal said.
King walked in as they were talking. Col. Randal said to the Merc, “We’re flying to Singapore in a few hours.”
“How long are we planning to stay, Chief?”
“Less than an hour,” Col. Randal said, “if I have anything to say about it. Dress for success, just in case.”
“Affirmative.”
“Roy and Jack are going,” Col. Randal said. “On the trip out it’s just the four of us, an empty plane with a full crew of Clipper Girls—enjoy yourselves, gentlemen.”
Ex-Lt. Jaxx said, “Sounds like my kind of mission, sir.”
“Affirmative,” Lt. Kidd said.
“Our destination is classified,” Col. Randal said as they were leaving. “Anyone asks, we’re flying to RAF Habbaniya—mission undisclosed.”
Five minutes after they left, Lieutenant Pamala Plum-Martin arrived, still wearing her flight suit. “You asked to see me, John?”
“You’ll be flying a small team to RAF Habbaniya later today. Get with Red to brief you on the details.”
“Will you be leading the team?” Lt. Plum-Martin asked. “You need a break, John.”
“So do you, Pam,” Col. Randal said. “You’ve been flying ‘round the clock—two weeks off as soon as you touch down back here from Habbaniya. That’s an order—no flying.
“Yes, sir,” the Vargas Girl-looking Royal Marine pilot said. “Whatever this mission is, be safe, John—I should not want anything to happen to you.”
“All I’ll be doing, Pam,” Col. Randal said, “is evacuating a party of civilians from Singapore, who all hold high intelligence clearances.”
The Royal Marine officer was a longtime MI-6 operative. Col. Randal knew he was not fooling her. Why would Naval Intelligence be flying him halfway around the world to evacuate a party of people they could put on an airplane if all was well?
Lieutenant Plum-Martin left immediately.
“Sammy’s here, John,” Lt. Mandy announced.
Major Sammy Sansom, chief of Cairo Counterintelligence walked in with Acting Provisional Sub-Lieutenant Skipper Mud Cat Ray, OBE, RNPS.
Col. Randal said, “Skipper, as I remember it, after OPERATION LOUNGE LIZARD you were planning to go out to Singapore—what happened?”
“That’s right, Colonel, I was,” Skipper Ray said. “Only Wino wanted to go too, so we flipped for it. I lost. Sure worked out good for me—command of a trawler.
“You gave me the best ship I ever sailed on.”
“Any idea where to find Wino in Singapore?” Col. Randal asked.
“If he’s not on his tug,” Skipper Ray said, “my guess is you’d find Wino drinking himself blind in the Black Cat or the Lucky Lady—they’re on Lavender Street—girlie bars. That’s where I’d be if I was him.”
Maj. Sansom gave Col. Randal a look.
“Would you mind waiting outside, Skipper,” Maj. Sansom said. “I need a word in private with the colonel on another subject.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Skipper Ray said. “Want to thank you again, Colonel, for springing me outta prison.”
“Don’t kill anybody else,” Col. Randal said, “unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“You got my word.”
As soon as they were alone, Maj. Sansom said, “Nice work, Colonel, taking out the Brandenburgers for Mrs. Seaborn and Captain Honeycutt-Parker. Those ladies made a major recruitment for our side and we could not risk any possibility of witnesses getting back to Tripoli who might compromise it.”
“I see,” Col. Randal said, which meant he did not.
“Problem is,” Maj. Sansom said, “our brand-new double agent had already dropped off two highly-trained Abwehr operatives before Mrs. Seaborn and Captain Honeycutt-Parker caught up to him.
“Now we have two German spies on the loose in Cairo I have to track down.”
“You’re good at that,” Col. Randal said.
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“I could use your help.”
“I’m flying out this afternoon,” Col. Randal said.
“That’s fine,” Maj. Sansom said. “What I need is for you to let me borrow Rita and Lana to dance at the Kit-Kat Club again. It’s a sure bet those two spies will turn up there sooner or later. German agents always do.
“Moe, the manager, has been badgering me to talk to you about letting them come back before this came up anyway,” Maj. Sansom said.
“Your slave girls are so popular he will lift the ban on you coming to the club if you do.”
“They’re not my slaves,” Col. Randal said.
“That is not what the girls say.”
“If you need Rita and Lana,” Col. Randal said, “and they agree—OK by me.”
“Colonel,” Maj. Sansom said, “this situation is so grave that we have been giving serious thought to enlisting Rocky to dance at the Kit-Kat until we round up these two enemy agents.”
“Rocky?” Col. Randal said. “Let me know, Major. I might want to catch her show.”
Lt. Mandy came in after Maj. Sansom left.
“Did Sammy tell you about the two Nazi spies in Cairo, John?”
“Yes, he did.”
“R. J. wants to saturate the Kit-Kat Club with counterintelligence people because enemy agents go there to try to make local contacts they can use. In addition, about half the dancers are Hungarians or Egyptians not always loyal to our side. Some are willing to help Germany—particularly the Hungarians.”
Col. Randal said, “He wants Rita and Lana back at the club.”
“I am thinking about dancing too,” Lt. Mandy said. “Don’t tell my mother.”
“Mandy,” Col. Randal said, “if I catch you dancing at the Kit-Kat . . .”
“OK, John,” Lt. Mandy laughed. “Just a thought.”
Jim came running up the stairs, “Colonel, who are you taking with you to Singapore?”
“Jack, Roy and King,” Col. Randal said.
“You cannot depart,” Jim said, “until I get back from Major Twitterington’s office. It should not take long.”
Then Jim ran back down the stairs without explanation.
“Mandy,” Col. Randal asked, “you ever hear of a Major Twitterington?”