Beneath Gray Skies (35 page)

“It seems not. It’s a gift to the Confederacy from the National Socialist government.”

“I wouldn’t have thought you people would need it very much. I mean, forgive me, but the Confederacy doesn’t exactly have an international reputation for antiquarian culture, does it? Why on earth are they doing that?”

“It’s the best the Nazis can do instead of hard cash to help our industry.”

“Assuming there’s a buyer, of course. I mean, what’s this little bag of trinkets worth?”

“To the right person, it’s almost priceless. And we think that we’ve found the right person or people in California. From what we hear, we stand to make a lot of money—we think it may be considerably more than twenty million US dollars for the Jewels of Helen and all the other items that make up the Treasure of Priam. After all, the owner of the treasure isn’t just in possession of a few hunks of antique gold—this is a real part of Western history. Actually, I don’t think it’s one person who will be the final buyer, but a consortium of rich men who want to make a name for themselves as the joint owners of these things, but one dealer is acting as a front for the whole syndicate.”

“Is that really so much money? I mean, it’s much more than I will ever see in my lifetime, but it seems rather small change for the government of a large country.”

“It’s a start, isn’t it?” replied Vickers, a little huffily. “In any case, it allows us to make the first public gestures. We reckon that once the rest of the world sees that we’re changing the Confederacy for the better, they’ll start to invest their money, and things will start to pick up. We do have a lot to offer, you know.”

“I know. Otherwise the Nazis wouldn’t be doing business with the Confederacy, would they? But back to these jewels. How are you going to steal them?”

“Shoot down the airship, what else?”

“That’s a bloody stupid idea, if I may say so, Colonel. With the heat generated by the burning hydrogen, you’ll be left with a hailstorm of molten gold dropping out of the sky. Very poetic and all that, but it’s not going to help.”

“Actually, you’re wrong about that. And I’m not going to tell you why you’re wrong. I’ll leave that to an expert.” Vickers left the cell without even closing, let alone locking, the cell door. “Wait here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” replied Brian, dryly.

Vickers returned in about ten minutes, with another man of about Brian’s age, but wearing German Army uniform.

“Major Weisstal, Captain Finch-Malloy. Captain Finch-Malloy, Major Weisstal.” Vickers performed a formal introduction, slightly absurdly, given the circumstances, thought Brian. His two visitors perched themselves on the lower bunk of the cell, and Brian sat on the three-legged stool provided for inmates.

“Ah, at last,” said Weisstal. “I have been wanting to meet the man who taught my chess partner.”

“Major Weisstal has been playing chess against David Slater,” explained Vickers.

“And losing,” commented Weisstal cheerfully. “You taught him well.”

“I hardly taught him anything,” protested Brian. “The boy’s a natural genius at chess. David told me about you, by the way, Major.”

“I’d guessed at your existence in this town. Over the past few weeks, David had been employing new strategies in his chess games. I guessed they must have come from somewhere. Why not his first teacher? You’re a Brasenose man, I seem to remember from your dossier. I was Balliol, myself. Matriculated in 1913, so I didn’t graduate, for obvious reasons.”

Brian shook his head. “I’m impressed by your deductive powers, and it’s nice to meet a fellow Oxonian here, even if he is a Balliol man.”

“And another thing,” added Weisstal. “Any man who shoots Hermann Goering is a friend of mine.” He extended a hand to be shaken.

“I should explain that Major Weisstal is in charge of the German detachment, military and civilian, at Cordele.”

“This is despite my relatively low rank,” Weisstal explained. “In the German forces, promotion in rank does not always accompany higher responsibility.” He sighed. “But, to more interesting matters than the non-promotion of a middle-aged German major. The Colonel has explained about the Jewels of Helen? And you wonder how to take them from an airship? It’s simple.”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me how.”

“Indeed. As you almost certainly know, Goering fancies himself as an artistic connoisseur. As it happens, his taste in art is not at all bad, and he does have some knowledge. He also fancies himself as a great engineer, and that, by all accounts, is one thing that he is not. Adequate knowledge, and far from stupid, but by no means at the level of competence he believes himself to be. In any case, this pompous ass has delivered his specifications to the Zeppelin factory for a lightweight but immensely strong ‘escape pod’ for the treasure. Should anything appear to endanger the airship, the captain will give the appropriate orders and the pod will be jettisoned using a modified bomb release mechanism, floating gently to earth on a parachute. I am assured by Berlin that eggs could survive the gentle impact of the pod to the ground.”

“And over water?”

“Over water, the same procedure applies. In addition to the parachute, there are rubber landing cushions attached to the pod, inflated by compressed air as the pod leaves the airship. On land, these cushions serve to break the fall of the pod. Over water, the pod floats with their aid. And furthermore, in water, a special water dye and smoke are released, allowing the pod to be easily spotted from the air and retrieved. Furthermore, if there is not time for the pod to be jettisoned, the walls of the pod are insulated to protect the contents, even against the terrible heat of a burning airship.”

“Very ingenious,” commented Brian. A thought struck him. “Is such a pod also to be provided for each of the high Party officials?”

“Apparently such an idea was considered for the leading Nazis, but the Führer said that it would smack of cowardice. And believe me, whatever else Adolf Hitler may be, he is no physical coward. The
Bismarck
will, however, be carrying sufficient parachutes for the passengers and most of the crew.”

“Most?” asked Vickers.

“Some are deemed to be expendable, obviously.” Weisstal shrugged.

“So we have to frighten the captain of the
Bismarck
enough to get him to jettison this pod affair, while not scaring the passengers too much, so that they don’t take to their parachutes?” asked Brian.

“Quite so,” agreed Weisstal.

“Pardon my asking,” enquired Brian of Weisstal, “but just what’s your stake in all this, old boy?”

Weisstal looked him squarely in the eye. “I hate the Nazis,” he replied. “I detest everything they stand for, and what they have done to Germany, and the nation will be a better place when they are gone. You probably know that they have little or no real popular support among the Army, or the old aristocracy, let alone the mass of the German people, and they hold their position through fear and violence as well as through Hitler’s own personal charisma, which is considerable, I can assure you. I’ve met the man.” He paused, and then continued. “If Hitler, Goebbels and Goering were all to go at one time, there would be no-one else in their organization who could stand up against the will of the German people. Röhm is a weak-willed, self-indulgent homosexual, Hess is virtually insane with his interest in magic and astrology, and the young fanatics like Himmler and Heydrich are just crazy dreamers who can be disposed of easily. I don’t think we’re overstating the case when I say that the loss of the
Bismarck
and those in it will be Germany’s gain.”

“The world’s gain, if you are right,” corrected Brian. “Are you going to allow all the crew to die along with the Nazis?”

“Sadly, yes, if there is really no alternative,” said Weisstal. “There’s a saying in English about omelets and eggs, I believe?”

“There is,” confirmed Brian. “But I’m never sure how far to believe it. Speaking for myself, I always try to break as few unnecessary eggs as possible.”

“Such as the men you disposed of here in Cordele when you sent that slave off to Richmond?” asked Vickers, sarcastically.

“They were scum, and you know it, and you’re better off without them. If you’d seen what they were doing to that poor boy, you’d have done the same. In any event, it wasn’t me who killed them, if you’d take the trouble to remember.”

Vickers held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “
Kamerad
. We’re all on the same side, I think. We’re not so worried about the ends as the means.”

“But actually, I really would like to find a way to save the crew, especially Dr. Eckener,” added Weisstal. “Dr. Eckener was a friend of von Zeppelin, and now runs the Zeppelin company. He is no friend of the Nazis, and I would hate to see him and his people die.”

“So what are you going to do?” asked Brian.

“Well, actually, we’d rather hoped you could help out there.”

“Well, if you tell me what to do, I suppose I’ll do it. Within reason.”

“No, you don’t understand,” corrected Weisstal. “We need you to work out what to do. What exactly you were meant to be doing all along. I assume what the informer sent along describing your proposed actions was a complete load of
Scheiss
.”

“It was indeed,” Vickers nodded.

“Well, I don’t know what that plan was going to be,” Brian informed them, blithely. “I was reporting the facts back to Washington, and they were working out the exact plans that I was going to carry out. I was expecting them today or tomorrow, as it happens.”

“Damnation!” exclaimed Vickers. “You were receiving your messages from Miss Justin’s letters, I assume?” Brian nodded. “Well, your people are very clever, because the CBI couldn’t find anything hidden in the letters by way of secret ink or anything when they opened them.”

“If you’ll pardon me for suggesting it, I think your CBI would have trouble finding their backsides with both hands sometimes.”

“Perhaps you’re right there,” Vickers admitted. “Would it help if we asked the CBI to forward to us all the mail that’s been directed to that house since you came here?”

“It might,” agreed Brian. “On the other hand, I’d have to give away some British Service secrets, which I hope you understand I’d be somewhat unwilling to do.”

“You mean the tricks of your trade when it comes to secret inks, and so on? I think it’s fair to say that if Major Weisstal and I knew exactly what these tricks were, we’d feel bound to use them in our counter-intelligence work. But if you can think of a way to hide them from us, I give you my word that I won’t try too hard to discover them.”

“The same goes for me,” added Weisstal.

“All right,” replied Brian. “Get all the mail, letters and envelopes, off the CBI, and send some men to Miss Justin’s house to bring my toothbrush and toothpowder and all my shaving tackle. Pack it up in the travel bag you’ll find under my bed. And if you could manage to bring my Bible and prayer book beside my bed, that would be a great help.”

“We can provide you with shaving tackle and so on. And you have a toothbrush here,” pointed out Vickers. “Toothbrush, one, prisoner for the use of. And this is the Confederacy, after all, so if you want a Bible, we have warehouses full of them. Just ask.”

“I have a feeling, Colonel,” pointed out Weisstal, “that all this may be connected with the use of secret inks and decoding and so on. Am I right, Captain?”

Brian said nothing, but smiled.

“Sorry,” said Vickers. “Stupid of me. I’ll get onto all of that first thing in the morning.”

“
I’m going to tell you something else about the man who I helped to have shot. He was my cousin.”

“
W
hat were you going to tell me at the wedding, Vernon, before you suddenly went quiet?” asked Henry Dowling.

“I’ve forgotten what we were talking about, quite frankly,” replied Vernon Gatt vaguely.

“We were talking about the wedding, and how I was saying that it really was no surprise to me. I got the impression you were about to tell me that it was a surprise to you and the rest of your people.”

“Oh yes, that’s what I was saying. Yes, it was a surprise. We all thought that John Summers was going to marry her.”