The Romanov succession

The house was in a mews off Sloane Square: the official residence of the New Zealand minister. Alex waited in a small rear office into which Cosgrove had led him after wryly relieving him of his armament.

He sat alone in the room for nearly two hours until Cosgrove appeared. “The Prime Minister will see you now.”

Alex got up to follow him but Churchill appeared in the doorway, put his pouched belligerent stare against Alex and said, “Thank you, Brigadier.”

“I’ll see that you’re not disturbed, sir.” Cosgrove shut himself out.

“Well then,” the Prime Minister growled. He squinted at Alex and thrust the cigar in his teeth, and offered his hand. His grip was a politician’s handshake-one quick squeeze, then withdrawn. The gruff voice was hoarse and the eyes were bloodshot. “You’re the man in whose hands the world rests, are you?”

“I shouldn’t want to go nearly that far, sir.”

“Nor should I. Some of your people would have it so.” Churchill sat down with a weary grunt and folded his hands across his ample front; the cigar waggled between his graceful fingers and the hint of a smile appeared above his jowls-surprisingly gentle. “What I require of you is a revelation designed to reassure His Majesty’s Government that you are something a bit more than a pack of lunatics.” The cigar moved to the mouth and was dwarfed by the enormous head. The shrewd eyes studied Alex through the curling smoke and the voice was very deep-almost guttural. “I should think, from what Cosgrove has told me, that you have only one route open to you. A high-altitude run across the Baltic to Helsinki. Finland has got to be your jumping off point, hasn’t it? You’re within bomber range of Moscow there, and your people have friends highly placed in President Ryti’s government-certainly you’ve been able to persuade them they owe you quid pro quo for your services there two years ago.” Churchill’s eyes wrinkled, sly and pleased with himself. “Am I at all warm?”

Alex had to smile. “White hot, Mr. Prime Minister.”

“Under any other circumstances I should be inclined to caution you against such an arrangement. You’ve already got the Americans and those terribly meddlesome British in it-I shouldn’t advise you to tangle yourselves in the additional flypaper of a Finland involvement, particularly as they’re now in the war against our glorious Soviet allies.” His humor was not without acid. “But under the present conditions your plan must, beyond question, include Helsinki. I know of no alternative refueling base within aeroplane range of your target.”

A puff of smoke timed for punctuation; and the PM went on:

“I’m given to understand you intend to draw the ruling junta out into the open and to attack them from the air with high explosives dropped in pinpoint concentration.’

“Yes.”

“You must then, I presume, be prepared to infiltrate their centers of communication. Clearly it will be vital to have immediate contact with those units of the Red Army which are engaged in the defense of Moscow and the struggle against Chancellor Hitler’s Army Group Center. In order to complete your mission with any sort of success at all, you must instantly be able to command the allegiance of those forces. Please contradict me if I’m incorrect.”

“No contradiction is called for, Prime Minister.”

“Very well then, Danilov, who’s your man in the Kremlin? Zhukov or Vlasov?”

He managed-successfully he hoped-to mask his chagrin. “Neither of them, sir. It’s intended that they both be blown up with Stalin.”

“I see. Then it is one of their immediate subordinates. Zhukov’s chief-of-staff, perhaps-or one of the army commanders.”

“I’d prefer not to divulge that.”

“You’ve got such a man, however?”

“Yes.”

“Prepared to take over the Red Army instantly?”

“Yes-exactly.”

Churchill grunted; once again the hint of a smile. “Then you’ve bloody well got a chance, haven’t you?”

The Prime Minister chewed on the cigar and then removed it from his mouth. “I like the cut of you. You’re decently cool under the sort of pressure I’ve been applying. Now I should like to hear your plan.”

Alex gathered his thoughts. “They’ve got a new battle tank,” he said. “They’re rushing it through production-they hope to have several front-line armored units equipped with it by spring.”

“The modified T-Thirty-six. I’ve seen the drawings and specifications.”

“I thought you might have,” Alex said; and both men smiled.

He went on: “The first field trials of the prototype will be held in eight weeks’ time on a proving-ground about thirty miles east of Moscow. It’s to be a thorough workout to demonstrate firepower and maneuverability. The new machine mounts a seventy-seven millimeter gun. It’s a twenty-ton tank with more than five inches of armor. They plan to have six ready for the field trials-I’m told they plan to run them against unmanned captured panzers. If the trials prove what they hope to prove they’ll make rubble of the Mark Fours.”

“One rather hopes their expectations aren’t in excess of the realities.”