Clement Attlee folded his hands in his lap after delivering that item to Margaret.

  “What of the other members of the government?” she asked.

  “As far as we can tell, the prime minister is in hiding. Some of the bureaucrats are siding with the army, and many have simply disappeared. We do not have the resources in Tokyo to discover what is going on.”

  “What do you expect to happen, then, Prime Minister?” the queen queried.

  “Presently, we have a stalemate. The navy strongly supports the emperor and his government while the army is trying to install a Junta. The people seem to favor the emperor as well.”

  “But the navy cannot control the islands.”

  “Correct. It controls access to the islands, however, and that is important to the Japanese economy. Our ambassador reports that the people have been in the streets, protesting.”

  Margaret glanced over at Colin and then back at Attlee. “What actions do you recommend we take concerning the Japanese crisis, Prime Minister?”

  “The Americans seem to be doing about as much as anyone can. We have limited resources in the area, as you well know.”

  “What resources do we have in the area, Clement?”

  Attlee looked surprised. “Well, I believe we have some naval units in Singapore….”

  “In other words, you don’t know,” she accused.

  “Your Majesty, you simply surprised me. At the end of the war, we concentrated our naval forces at Trincomalee and Singapore. With the Americans guaranteeing security in the Western Pacific, there was no need to post pickets in every port, and we couldn’t afford to, anyway.”

  “Can we afford not to?”

  “What are you suggesting, Ma’am?” Attlee asked pointedly.

  “I’m not suggesting, Clement, I’m telling you that we need to put a half dozen ships into Tokyo harbor to let them know that we’re serious about living up to the treaty.”

  “I’m not sure you have the right to order me to do that.”

  “After October twelfth, you may do anything you please with the agreement of your party and the Commons. Until then, it’s my decision. We operate under my regime until the election. Do you understand that, Clement?”

  “I do not believe the parliament or the people will tolerate such high-handedness for long, Your Majesty,” he shouted. “I grow weary of your abusive leadership.”

  “If it is abusive, is it leadership, Prime Minister?” she asked softly. “I am handing control of the government back to the house on October 12. Is that the mark of an abusive leader? Nothing forces me to do this. I acceded to your wishes when you announced the elections because it was the right thing to do, despite my misgivings. Until then, I am the government. Do we understand each other?”

  Conflicting emotions warred across Attlee’s face. Though very angry, he still calculated the risks. The conundrum he faced was that he did not know how the queen would ultimately react. He finally decided that it would be wise to acquiesce to her demand. He could reverse it post-election if necessary. He could see no good ending to forcing a confrontation with Margaret at this time.

  “Very well, Your Majesty. I will see to it.”

  “Thank you, Clement,” she replied sweetly. “And what is the next item on the agenda?”

  “The RAF would like to purchase the new jet bomber that Boeing is developing with the Germans. We have had some informal discussions with Ribbentrop, and he did not reject it out of hand. He had not discussed it with Schloss but based upon other conversations, Ribbentrop believed the Reich Chancellor would look favorably upon it.”

  “That is interesting,” she commented. “Do you have a position on this? I know the Exchequer would like us to manufacture the here rather than just buying them from the Germans.”

  “While I would like to cut the size of our armed forces, I recognize the need to continue some level of investment,” he lectured. “If we share the development costs of the new bomber with the Germans, we can get our hands on new military designs without beggaring ourselves.”

  “Fine,” she commented. “I would suggest that you include a condition that we build the planes for the RAF ourselves. That would help our manufacturing base. Did you get Minister Anderson to share what he had been working on in that area?”

  “Yes. He tried to keep it from me, but I forced the issue. I reminded him that he was working for me, after all. I believe the Germans and Boeing would be agreeable to us participating in the project. And AVRO has been itching to get into that business.”

  “I would be in favor of it,” Margaret said, “but your people still need to vet this carefully.”

  Attlee made some notes on his pad. “I will make sure we don’t lose track of what is going on, Ma’am.”

  “Very well, let’s see where it goes.”

  Colin Marty continued taking notes of the meeting. He heaved an internal sigh of relief when Attlee folded his hand on the Royal Navy’s show of force in Japan. He expected the friction to continue between the queen and her prime minister until after the elections. And if they made a habit of fighting and Attlee won the election, things would continue to be uncomfortable for everyone involved.

  Marty also wondered about how long he would be able to maintain his usefulness as an information conduit from the Foreign Office to the queen. He was now having dinner with Margaret several times each week. The meals were always in the private dining room, but someone had leaked this to the Press. He could no longer wander around unmolested anywhere in England without some officious reporter demanding a comment from him. Sooner or later, he expected to land in a position where he would be forced to confirm the dinners or lie. And he didn’t want to lie.

  Because of the attention, Colin knew that he would have to discuss with the queen the nature of their relationship. He expected that to be an uncomfortable conversation. He was very fond and protective of Margaret, and she was affectionate with him. Were they becoming more than just friends? He thought perhaps that was the case, but he didn’t know what she truly felt. Even the idea of broaching the situation to Margaret terrified him. What to do, what to do?

  § § §

  August 22, 1944; 9 PM

  The Reich Chancellor’s Residence

  Nordend-Ost

  Frankfurt, Germany

  The two infants seemed content to lie on their pads on the floor as the parents talked that evening. Frau Marsden had put Hans and Anna-Lisa to bed, and the house grew quiet.

  “It’ll be nice to get back to my own house,” Peter commented. “I know it gets trying for you to have me and Gratia packed in here with you.”

  “Oh, not at all, Peter,” Gisela immediately objected. “We love having Gratia in the house.”

  Schloss was just sipping his brandy and choked. He set the snifter down and immediately stood up, trying to clear his airways. Peter stood and walked over to pound his brother-in-law on the back.

  “It does no good to try inhaling brandy,” Peter laughed. “I believe you have used the term contraindicated, Hennie.”

  Schloss just shook his fist at Peter and wheezed, but still not able to speak. Finally, he gasped. “That really burns when it goes down the wrong pipe.”

  Peter laughed again. “It burns when it goes down the right pipe. Besides, it was Gisela’s fault.”

  Schloss glared at her.

  “What did I say?” she exclaimed.

  “Everybody in the room caught the innuendo, Schatzi. Besides that, you are picking up Peter’s bad habits. Peter, I am going to have to ask you to move out. You are a bad influence on my family.”

  Peter had a delighted look on his face as he moved back to his chair. Gisela glared at Schloss.

  “Are we being grumpy again, mein Herr?” she asked, poking Schloss in the stomach.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m certainly in a good mood.”

  “That’s a change,” Peter commented.

  “You stay out of this,” Schloss warned, shaking his finger at Peter. “Gisela and I are having a family discussion.”

  “That’s all right, Peter,” she retorted. “Feel free to join in the family discussions as you see fit. You are, after all, family.”

  “Mein Gott,” Schloss murmured.

  The conversation subsided for a while when the Luftwaffe steward brought in a tray holding a carafe of coffee and several cups. Schloss set down his snifter and eagerly picked up a cup.

  “Is this brew worthy of our resident coffee snob?” Peter asked.

  “This is excellent stuff,” Schloss replied. “I believe the cook figured out where we were buying it and laid in a supply.”

  “Good for him. Make sure you bring him back to Berlin.”

  “I already told Frau Marsden not to let him go.”

  “When are we going back, Hennie?” Gisela asked. “I say that because I like this house much better than that mausoleum where our apartment is located.”

  “I tasked Ribbentrop with making the arrangements,” Schloss said.

  “You gave that to Joachim?” Peter asked in surprise.

  “I got tired of handing stuff to you when you are so obviously overworked.”

  “I just delegate things like that, Hennie.”

  “Yes, but you still have to supervise the activities. Tell me that you don’t pay close attention to your staff.”

  “You know I do,” Peter replied. “And we all know what happens when we don’t.”

  Schloss nodded. “So, Joachim was standing there wagging his tail, and I said, fetch. And then I told him, good boy.”

  Gisela slapped him on the arm. “You are terrible, Hennie. What would he think if he heard that?”

  “Joachim knows what people think of him,” Peter said. “And he doesn’t care. He feels like he is contributing and is glad Hennie didn’t shoot him like he did Himmler.”

  Gisela looked at Schloss. “Is that true?”

  “I think so. He’s one of the old Nazis and knows I don’t totally trust him. But he has delivered for us, and I can’t complain. And he’s negotiating with the English now about jointly developing the Boeing bomber.”

  “What do you think about that, Hennie?” Peter asked.

  “Anything that draws us closer together is fine with me. I like working with Attlee. He’s pragmatic.”

  “And if he loses the election?” Peter asked.

  “Then we deal with whoever gets the nod from their House of Commons. The English rarely make dramatic changes in their foreign policy posture.”

  “But you heard that Churchill is running for a safe seat?”

  “Does that mean he is automatically elected?” Gisela asked, looking nervous.

  “Pretty much,” Peter replied. “But I don’t think he will amount to much. Nobody likes him anymore. The Conservative party is wandering around without a leader designate and no message, and it looks like they aren’t even trying to win an election.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Schloss said. “Changes in government always make me nervous. Speaking of which, are you getting a read on what’s going on in America?”

  “The Republican Party nominated Robert Taft to run against Truman. If Taft happens to win, it may mean some changes in how the Americans view us.”

  “And that worries me. What kind of changes?”

  “Taft will encourage the Americans to stay home and tend to their own affairs. There is some value in that, but how it affects trade, particularly in weapons, is hard to parse out. And, unless Taft says something in a speech, we won’t learn anything about his positions. His people won’t talk to us until and if they win the election. They’re disgustingly ethical.”

  “And we have another unknown in the Kremlin,” Schloss grumbled. “At least we have the Russians on the run. For the moment.”

  “And hopefully Smirnoff isn’t a broken reed,” Peter stated.

  “Exactly,” Schloss said. “Exactly.”

  CHAPTER fifty-THREE

  August 23, 1944; 10 PM

  Command Headquarters

  Lublin, Polish Territory

  Ferdinand Schörner leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. It had been a long day, and the paperwork was still piled on his field desk. He looked up as his adjutant, Colonel Konrad Beck, eased into his section of the tent. There was no door to receive a knock, so Beck carefully judged when the General could be interrupted.

  “Perhaps you might think about getting some sleep, Herr General,” Beck said. “You have been up for two nights, and I don’t believe you could effectively manage a third.”

  “I must confess to weariness, Beck. But there is much to be done before I can report to Rommel that we are in position and ready to defend our positions. He wants us to backstop Smirnoff. That tells me that he doesn’t trust them. Well, I don’t either. If Smirnoff and Khrushchev have decided to betray us, I want to be able to teach them the error of their ways.”

  “I wish there were a satisfactory building still standing here in Lublin,” Beck commented. “You need a decent office and a dry place to sleep. The weather will begin to change in another few weeks, and this tent will be miserable.”

  Schörner smiled to himself. Beck was a superior administrator and served well. But he enjoyed his creature comforts. Finding the general a comfortable place to live and work would mean that the Colonel would also enjoy the same.

  “Colonel, I understand what you are saying. But the whole army is living in tents with no prospect for barracks anytime soon. I refuse to make myself more comfortable at someone else’s expense. I realize everyone already hates me, but I don’t want to give them a reason to grow restive.”

  “But nobody would begrudge you decent working quarters, Herr General.”

  “Perhaps not. But there’s no time for that, anyway. But I think you are right concerning one thing; I need to get to bed. I’m starting to have trouble making decisions. So, if you will leave me, I have a few things to tidy up so I can get out of here.”

  Beck hesitated. “There was one other thing, Herr General.”

  Schörner had closed his eyes to gather the threads of his thoughts and opened them again.

  “From previous experience, that tone of voice tells me there is something you’d rather not talk about.”

  The colonel sighed. “It is a bit delicate.”

  Schörner swore. “The reason you are in this job, Beck, is because you are not afraid to tell me things I don’t want to hear. Did you get caught diddling the supply sergeant or something?”

  Beck looked shocked. “No, Herr General, of course not! I would never do something like that.”

  While the German army was as strict as anyone concerning fraternization between officers and the ranks, Colonel Beck and Sergeant Hasselblad had been friends since they were children. So, Schörner was prepared to be flexible as long as it didn’t impact discipline.

  “Then you’d better just tell me what’s on your mind, Colonel.”

  “Of course, Herr General. A couple of weeks ago a letter was left on your desk. I was not privy to the contents, of course, but I wondered if you needed to send a response.”

  Schörner nodded. The little weasel knew precisely what was in the letter from Milch and was probably part of the group that had a burning desire to know Schörner’s response. The general himself had been of two minds concerning the proposal. As a stalwart Nazi, the thought of restoring a more doctrinaire leader was attractive.

  On the other hand, there was no gainsaying Schloss’s success in leading Germany forward. Schörner had not replied to the letter as a way of determining who was behind it. And now he knew.

  “Call the guards, Colonel.”

  “Excuse me, Herr General?”

  “I just directed you to call the guards. Please do so now.”

  “I don’t believe you understand the situation, Herr General.”

  “I understand it all too well.”

  Schörner stood and pulled his pistol from the holster. “Come with me, Colonel.”

  § § §

  August 24, 1944; 8 AM

  Reich Chancellor’s Office

  Nazi Party Headquarters

  Frankfurt, Germany

  “This must be serious if I have the two of you in my office this early in the morning,” Schloss said.

  “I apologize for the inconvenience, Herr Reich Chancellor,” von Rundstedt said. “A situation arose last evening. I consulted with the Reichsprotektor, and he suggested we needed to see you.”

  “I understand. And here comes Kirche with the morning coffee. I assume this can wait a few minutes.”

  The Reichsmarshall looked nonplussed, and Rainer looked as if he was trying not to roll his eyes.

  Schloss took a sip of his coffee and then looked back at von Rundstedt. “Now, what was it that we needed to discuss?”

  “I received a message last night from General Schörner. He has placed his adjutant under close arrest. It seems the General had received a letter from Erhard Milch asking him to join in an uprising against the government. The general held off responding, and eventually, the adjutant brought up the matter. Schörner is requesting a general investigation of his command.”

  “I suppose this lays to rest Guderian’s concerns about Schörner,” Schloss commented. “So, we investigate. What do I need to know about this?”

  “Herr Reich Chancellor,” von Rundstedt began, “the Reichsprotektor and I agree that the investigation needs to be conducted by someone outside of the army chain of command.”

  Schloss nodded. “That makes sense. This puts it on your platter, right, Karl?”

  “Yes, Herr Schloss,” Rainer replied. “This is something the SS can handle.”

  “Who do you suggest we send out then?”

  “We need to keep this quiet, both in the SS and the Party. And, of course, the Wehrmacht,” Rainer stated. “I think I want to send Major Strang.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that, Karl?” Schloss asked. “I know Erich has amply proven his loyalty, but he is pretty hard-line in his thinking.”

  “I have given him opportunities to be disloyal, and he has not taken advantage of that.’