The Sergeant studied the sheet and mouthed the word, oh. “Yes, Sir, give me five minutes, and I’ll have this for you.”

  “Don’t hurry, Sarge. I’ve got time, and you only want to do this over again once.”

  Sergeant Buckley nodded as he fitted together four sheets of paper with carbon interleave and rolled the bundle into the typewriter. The page was complete in four minutes and thirty seconds, and Buckley swept the sheaf out of the typewriter.

  “Now, if you will hand me the packet, Sir, I will get this put back together for you.”

  Lane smiled. “Thank you, Sarge. If you ever want to escape this place, I’m sure I could find a home for somebody that can type like you.”

  “Thank you, Sir. But watching General Brett in action is the most fun I’ve had in years.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  May 26, 1944; 3 PM

  The Connaught Hotel

  London, England, UK

  Dillard Channing followed the bellhop to his room at the Connaught Hotel in London. Because of his success in bringing business to Boeing, he had an unlimited expense account. Since the company expected him to travel around the world extensively, he saw no reason not to indulge in comfortable lodgings wherever he happened to land. And if this hotel was not the very best he had experienced, it was certainly close.

  After tipping the bellhop, he closed the door and turned to walk over to where his suitcase stood next to the dresser. In the corner by the window, a nondescript man sat in a wingback chair.

  “Oh, excuse me,” Channing said. “They must have placed me in the wrong room.”

  As he turned to leave, the other man spoke. “No, I believe you are in the correct room, Mr. Channing.”

  Channing turned slowly to face the stranger. “I believe you have me at a disadvantage, then, sir.”

  “My apologies,” the other man dipped his head slightly. “My name is Harry Armister.”

  “Well then, Mr. Armister, what are you doing in my room?”

  “Let me begin by giving a little background. You see, I work for MI Five.”

  Channing felt a spike of fear penetrate his chest, but he had no choice but to play this through. “So, you are a spy?”

  “No. I am not a spy. Perhaps you might call me a counterspy. You see, we have been watching you, Mr. Channing.”

  Channing walked over to the liquor cabinet. “Would you like something to drink, Mr. Armister?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll have a pint in another hour or so.”

  “And what makes you think I am a spy, then, Mr. Armister?”

  “For the past four years, you have traveled between here, Germany, and the United States.

  “And France, Argentina, and Brazil,” Channing added. “It’s my job.”

  “And when you are in Germany, you have been telling Gehlen about everything you see in the UK, right?”

  “Gehlen as in the head of German military intelligence, right?” Channing laughed. “No, my friend. I have never met the man.”

  “And we know that you have been passing our secrets to the Germans.”

  Channing poured an inch of Glenlivet into a whiskey tumbler and took a sip. He was proud of himself in that he held the glass steady.

  “I know where this is going, and you are making a serious charge. The people I talked to in the British aircraft industry and the Royal Air Force have always been careful not to show me things I shouldn’t be seeing. Now, do I share things I see here with the Germans? Of course, I do. And things I see in the German aircraft industry I share with people here. And, in the United States, for that matter.”

  “You freely admit to this?” Armister asked with a hint of surprise.

  “Well, yes. I am cognizant of the Official Secrets Act, and believe me; I am very careful about things like that. I do not discuss things that are not public knowledge, or at least common knowledge in the aircraft industry.”

  “So, how do you handle situations when you encounter secret material?”

  “I deal with material that is confidential to my employer all the time. Retaining my job depends on not talking about things like that. As you know, Boeing is working on a couple of projects with the Germans. In the course of business, I’m involved with documents and conversations that are clearly marked confidential, and one does not talk about those things.”

  “Would that be the same in your dealings here in Britain?” Armister asked.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And is your American FBI aware of your activities?”

  Channing grinned. “Yes, they are, and we actually talk on a regular basis. Have you talked to them?”

  “We have seen no need to talk to them.”

  “Not to teach your grandmother to suck eggs, but perhaps you might have a conversation with them. Why all the cloak and dagger, anyway? I’m just trying to do my job, Mr. Armister.”

  Armister stood. “I think we would like to go downtown and have a conversation, Mr. Channing. Following that, you will most likely be on an airplane to the United States.”

  “I just got off a plane from the United States,” Channing snapped. “Look, I know you have a job to do, and I don’t minimize its importance. And I don’t want to see you guys embarrassed. We are starting to do a lot of business here, and I don’t want to mess that up.”

  “Oh, I believe you have already messed it up. Now come along.”

  As they left the hotel room, Dillard Channing hoped that Karl Rainer would find him a job in Germany because this would certainly end his usefulness to Boeing in the United States. And he had no idea of the controversy this event would raise on both sides of the Atlantic.

  § § §

  The Queen’s Office

  Buckingham Palace

  London, England, UK

  “Surely you know we didn’t need this right now,” Queen Margaret snapped.

  Clement Attlee sat across from her with his hat resting across his knees as he sipped the requisite cup of tea.

  “Five have kept this very quiet, your Majesty. We all recognize the sensitivity of the situation.”

  “What kind of damage has this Mr. Channing caused, anyway?” she demanded.

  Colin Marty sat in his chair where he had been taking notes. He looked up to study the Queen. She had been in a bad mood all day, and it looked like she was building towards an explosion.

  “He freely admitted that he has talked to people in Germany and the United States, Your Majesty,” Attlee said.

  “Of course he did! That’s his job, after all. Let me ask the question again, what damage has he done?”

  “He has been working with our aircraft manufacturers on some sensitive projects, and he has also had conversations with the RAF.”

  “And did he explain anything about his activities then, Prime Minister?”

  “He said that he has access to all kinds of confidential information concerning the projects he is involved with.”

  “I see. And you have naturally collected evidence that Channing has passed that information to the Germans or the Americans?”

  “No, ma’am, we have not.”

  She looked over at Marty. “What am I missing here, Colin?”

  He shook his head slightly. “I am at a loss, your Majesty.”

  Attlee pointed his finger at Colin. “You’re not being helpful, Mr. Marty.”

  “Helpful to you, Prime Minister, or me?” the Queen asked ominously.

  “To all of us, your Majesty,” Attlee said heatedly. “We have a prima facie case of espionage. These are things that Five are tasked to deal with, and that is what they did.”

  “Have five talked to the Americans or the Germans about this?”

  “Of course not, your Majesty. This is an internal law enforcement matter.”

  Margaret slammed her fist down on the table and shouted. “This is not an internal law enforcement matter. It has the makings of a major diplomatic incident. Need I remind you, Prime Minister, we do not need that right now.”

  “And so you think we should have let him go Scot free?”

  “We are dealing with somebody who works for a major company who has a presence in our country and is based in the United States and is a trading partner with Germany. You should have just kept an eye on him and had some quiet conversations with the Americans and the Germans. Let me ask you this, Prime Minister, is this man really a spy?”

  “Five are convinced of it, your Majesty.”

  She sighed. “I just hate getting involved in things like this. Before this is over and done with, God help us; we are probably going to have to turn him loose and apologize.”

  “We have already put him on a plane to the United States.”

  Margaret firmly placed her elbow on the tabletop and planted her palm on her forehead. “I just don’t know how we can get anything done in the face of such incompetence.”

  “Your Majesty, if you no longer have confidence in my ability to get things done, you may have my resignation at any time.”

  She raised her head and glared at him. There was fire in her eyes. “And just how is this going to look to the people of this country and the world at large to admit that you resigned because you were stupid?”

  “I resent that, your Majesty. That is completely unfair.”

  “Your Majesty,” Colin said quietly.

  She held up a hand to stop him and turned back to Attlee. “Just get out of my office, Clement!”

  The Queen and her secretary watched as the Prime Minister retreated from the office. Marty walked over to make sure the door was latched and then returned to his chair.

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me I could have handled that better, Colin.”

  “To be honest, ma’am, forcing the Prime Minister to resign over something like this is a bit silly.”

  “He is not going to resign,” the Queen stated. “Every once in a while, Clement gets full of himself, and I have to keep him trimmed back. Once he calms down, he’s going to have to get with Halifax and have a quiet talk with the Americans and the Germans. I fear that MI Five have made all of us look like fools.”

  Colin Marty cocked his head as he looked at her.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “With all possible respect, ma’am, I suggest you start thinking about who you are going to ask to be the next prime minister.”

  “Nonsense, Colin. Clement is too smart to do something like that.”

  Colin Marty nodded and stood to leave. There was trouble coming, and the Queen didn’t see it. She trusted him because he always gave her unvarnished advice. But he was always careful not to cross that boundary to where she would get defensive. Because at that point, there was no reasoning with her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  May 26, 1944; 3 PM

  Tokyo Airport

  Tokyo, Japan

  Howard Simpson was thankful that the C-69 was a hundred miles per hour faster than the C-54. As he climbed down the stairs from the Lockheed Constellation in Tokyo, he felt every bit of his 47 years. It was still a long trip. The twenty-four-hundred-mile leg from San Francisco to Honolulu was very long. But he was able to take a day to rest in Hawaii before the team boarded the plane again.

  They stopped at Midway Island long enough to refuel and then suffered another twenty-four-hundred-mile leg to Tokyo. Simpson was tempted to try to find an ocean liner to travel back to the states. Flying that long and far in a plane was barbaric.

  But they were here, and they had a mission. Colonel William Donovan had suggested Simpson to President Truman as an insightful businessman who could keep the meetings on track. The other two members of the commerce group were powerful and valuable in their own way. Senator Walter George of Georgia was the Chairman of the Senate Finance Committee and knew how to get things done in the government. Owen Smith of Chrysler Corporation was an industrial engineer and knew how to make factories work. But, Howard Simpson knew how to put business deals together.

  Donovan had arranged a quiet meeting between Simpson and Truman before the beginning of the trip. The president impressed upon Simpson the importance of getting the Japanese economy on its feet. The United States had committed itself to the security of the northern and western Pacific oceans, but the Japanese were going to have to pay for it. The Americans had their own problems pouring money down rat holes – particularly a radioactive rat hole in Hanford, Washington.

  And Howard Simpson smelled opportunities in Japan. The United States agreed to a quid pro quo to end the war, which involved heavy investment in the Japanese economy. The good news was that the Americans had not needed to bomb the Japanese islands back to the stone age. The bad news was that much of their manufacturing equipment was old and ready for the scrapyard. Modern machinery do wonders for Japanese productivity, and much of that would come from America and Great Britain.

  The Japanese and the Germans were rapidly mending fences, but the Germans were not able to help out much. They had their own problems closer to home. That thought sent a familiar pang of fear into Simpson. His daughter lived in Germany, and her marriage to the Reichsprotektor put her in the line of fire in that country’s war with the Soviets. And no one knew where that would end.

  But he put that thought back into a cupboard at the back of his mind and focused on the here and now. A half dozen Japanese from the Commerce Ministry lined up to greet them. He hoped they spoke good English because none of his team spoke Japanese. The bulk of the people in the United States who spoke Japanese were still working in the military. The civilians would have to make do.

  “Greetings,” one of the hosts spoke. “I am Hideki Kawasaki, and we welcome you to our land.”

  “Thank you,” Senator George responded. “We are honored to be here.”

  “We know you are likely to be weary from your trip. We plan to convey you to your hotel, and we will begin our meetings tomorrow.”

  “That is very kind of you,” the senator replied. “And it has been a long trip. But please allow me to make the introductions.”

  After smiling, nodding, and bowing, Simpson was told the unpronounceable names of the host team and listened as they commented to each other in their incomprehensible language. Simpson had traveled widely and understood enough German, French, and Italian to get by in Europe. After graduating from Harvard, he had worked for an oil company in Texas, and there he had picked up enough of the TexMex patois that he could communicate well in Spanish.

  But the Far East was a new experience for him. Not only did he have another language to wrestle, but a new culture to get his head inside of. He was looking forward to the challenge. He glanced around at his colleagues. Walt George was a politician, which, by definition, meant he would consistently land on his feet. But Owen Smith looked lost. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Howard Simpson took someone under his wing. There was no time to recover from any social faux pas.

  The ride from the airport to the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo was instructive. The police had carefully cleared the route so that the motorcade was not delayed by traffic on the journey. Simpson studied the city as they rode along the broad boulevard. The tiny homes seemed to be stacked on top of one another in the residential areas, and the downtown seemed more like a European city.

  The heat of the day carried the aromas of burning coal, wood, and gasoline through the open windows of the 1939 Cadillac, but the city seemed cleaner and more orderly than other places Simpson had visited. He reminded himself that the Japanese were as technologically advanced as the Europeans and Americans. But they were still different.

  The hotel was luxurious and modern if a bit different. Their hosts had set up a buffet in the main room of their suite. Most of the foods were American or British. Simpson thought that this was considerate of the Japanese. He was sure he would have the opportunity to sample Japanese cuisine eventually, and he looked forward to it.

  After retiring for the night, Howard Simpson lay awake for a while. He still could feel the vibrations of the Constellation’s engines, and he was thoughtful. He marveled at the changes in the world that had brought a destructive war to an abrupt close. It looked like the Japanese, and the Americans had kissed and made up, to use the vernacular. He wondered if the peace would hold and what the next fifty years would bring.

  § § §

  May 29, 1944; 10 AM

  Reich Chancellor’s Office

  Nazi Party Headquarters

  Frankfurt, Germany

  “There is no coffee today.”

  “What?”

  “There is no coffee today. Willem forgot to order it.”

  Karl Rainer sat in Schloss’s office and wondered at the direction of the conversation. Twice over the past couple of years, Karl and Peter had worked with Frau Marsden and Gisela when Schloss had suffered a breakdown. Karl wondered if this was happening again until he noticed the slight smirk on the Reich Chancellor’s face.

  “Have you brought Willem face to face with his shortcomings, Herr Schloss?”

  “I have. My secretary was properly horrified at his failure.”

  “And you have taken full advantage of that, I assume?” Rainer asked.

  “Oh, indeed. As you know, Willem Kirche is a model of perfection, and he prides himself on it. He is now suffering retribution for the times he tied my shoelaces together.”

  “And what happens when Gisela finds out?”

  Schloss sat up straight in his chair. “Hmmm. That might be a problem. Well, no matter. She is not likely to find out about it.”

  At the moment, Kirche scurried into Schloss’s office carrying a tray with a decanter and several cups.

  “I brought you some coffee from the delicatessen across the street, Herr Reich Chancellor. I will see to it that you have your coffee until the regular supply arrives.”

  “And when will that be, Kirche?” Schloss demanded.

  “Next week, Herr Reich Chancellor. Hopefully.”

  “Hopefully?” Schloss bellowed. “I thought you were better than this, Willem.”