Authors: Joe Buff
“Yes.”
“What’s the problem, sir? They got the codes?”
“
No
. They didn’t get the codes. Those parts of the ship were vaporized, or left untouched.”
“Left untouched by what?”
“The destroyer hulk was three miles down.”
“That’s deep, sir, even for our Deep Submergence people.”
“Affirmative. But the vehicle they used to sniff around saw footprints in the bottom muck.”
“What?”
“Most of them were wiped off, or disguised as the divers withdrew. But the clincher, the real clincher, is that with all the waterlogged soot, the vehicle’s cameras saw fresh
handprints
on and inside the wreck.”
“That’s impossible!”
“Nevertheless, it’s a fact. Our scientists have suspicions how they did it, but that’s irrelevant right now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Needless to say, our people on the scene gave high priority to determining what had been taken. The vehicle lost both its miniprobes trying to peer far enough in the hulk. All they could tell was that an intact internal magazine, which held atomic warheads, had been entered. We have to assume they went in there to steal one or more of the warheads…. It’s the only way they could have gotten those warheads. Gone inside and done it by hand using tools.”
“And the isotope mix when they detonate would tell any competent nuclear physicist which country made those bombs.”
“Got it in one. There’s the provocation, the casus belli.” The reason for war. “We suspect the
von Scheer
intends to somehow use those warheads to make it look like the U.S. gave atom bombs to Brazil and Brazil attacked Argentina with them. Then…Well…You get the picture. The
von Scheer
herself would have equipment to make the isotope analysis as a matter of course.”
Jeffrey had to sit down. “That justifies the so-called foreign aid. That makes it tit for tat. That makes it look like Germany only reacted, and fairly, to an atrocity
we
pulled off.” He thought about this hard. “But, Admiral, if the Axis frames us for a major crime, what’s supposed to be our
motive?
”
Hodgkiss’s voice grew sarcastic, bitter. “Snatch South America as Allied turf before the neutrals there can go with the winning side, the Axis. Grab a bastion on the west coast of the South Atlantic because we know we’ll lose Africa soon. Do it on the cheap, use Brazilian troops and a handful of nukes, to not divert our own overstretched forces.”
Jeffrey hesitated. “Sir, it
is
the myth of the ugly American pushed to the hilt…. But the people down there are conditioned by their politics and culture to believe it, aren’t they? And the Allies occupied Iceland in World War Two, uninvited, to get there before the Nazis did. The Icelanders were
really
pissed, but we went in anyway….”
“Given the status of our usable senior personnel inside Brazil—i.e., virtually none—and given da Gama’s skeptical attitude, which may in part be due to Axis supporters there working against us—without da Gama knowing their true colors, I mean—our commander in chief sees only one recourse.”
“Admiral?”
“The president needs to give da Gama absolute proof that we’re telling the truth. The two of them go way back, even longer than you and da Gama do. They met at the Army War College when both were still in uniform.” Such international relationship building was one main purpose of the war colleges; it was by design, not coincidence, that so many key players knew one another from peacetime.
“So?”
“Da Gama will know exactly who you are, and that’ll count doubly with him because of all the publicity over your Medal, of which da Gama is well aware. You are ordered to serve as an emissary, president to president.”
“Sir?”
“Brazil is a different culture, like you said. Ceremony and gestures of good faith count for a lot there. If you leave your ship just long enough to meet da Gama, you achieve several things at once. Understand?”
Jeffrey pondered this. “I can’t leave my ship.”
“You can, and you will. That’s the whole point.”
“Oh…Fromda Gama’s perspective, applying the same sort of logic he used against our ambassador, the fact that I
am
where I am, right off the Brazilian coast, would be hard confirmation that I have good reason for being here.
Challenger
being in South American waters, not a whole ocean away near Africa and the convoy, helps prove the
von Scheer
must be real, and must be somewhere close by too. Otherwise, why would I be wasting my time anywhere
near
Brazil, thousands of miles from where the convoy action is and from where
Challenger
would do any good?…And if
von Scheer
is here, therefore not chasing the convoy, she must have other nasty business in Latin America now herself.”
“We simply
must
convince da Gama of our sincerity. We simply
must
convince him that atomic war in his front yard is very imminent. And at the same time we
must
convince him we have a strong resource in place, able to intervene to help him.
You
.”
“And all the talk-talk and pictures of a sunken destroyer could be empty promises and simple fakes. But me speaking to da Gama, there in the flesh as he watches my eyes, would do the trick?”
“Vital national interests are at stake…. It’s the best the State Department and the national security adviser and everybody else here can come up with, given the deadlines and the distances and travel times involved.”
Jeffrey took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Sir, with respect, how am I supposed to get into Brazil, and keep
Challenger
meaningfully in the fight? How do I maintain stealth with Axis agents lurking everywhere and
von Scheer
on the prowl? How do I know there isn’t a car bomb waiting for
me?
”
“Our communications between here and there have been spotty the last few hours, they’re being tampered with or jammed…. We need to wrap this up quick, before some Axis hacker puts a cork in
this
conversation, Captain…. We have a plan that makes sense to me from the technical perspective, and da Gama is willing to go along, covertly. It keeps
Challenger
heading south, with your XO in acting command.
You
show your face to Getulio da Gama. Bond with the guy as much as you can. He’s supposed to be an excellent judge of character. Your orders are to win him over. Convince him we’re the good guys in this. Get him to perceive the actual threat, in real-time
today,
so he can take steps to try to fend off a nuclear holocaust. Get him to accept our help, and give us all of
his
help, to stop the maniacs in Berlin and Buenos Aires before it’s too late.”
“What sort of help from Brazil would make any difference? I’d much prefer to work on my own in international waters.”
“No, no,
no
. Because of those stolen warheads,
everything
is changed. American involvement crosses the coasts. This thing is way too big to sneak in just a small commando team covertly. We need outright permission for staging recon drones, deploying Special Forces, getting logistics support, and we need it
fast
. Your trip had been given the code name Operation Mercury. This also comes from the very top. If you need something from us yesterday, help or backup of any kind while you’re ashore, stick
Mercury
in the message header.”
“Mercury, like the planet?”
“The swift messenger of the gods from ancient mythology.
Mercury.
Invoke his name and the bureaucratic Red Sea of tape will part before your eyes.”
Jeffrey hesitated. “Sir, will I be asked to even the score, to give Brazil some of my nuclear weapons?”
“
Negative
. You will neither give any such weapons to Brazil, nor will you use atomic devices within the two-hundred-mile limit of the continent, under any circumstances whatsoever.”
This complicated things by reducing the options, but even so, Jeffrey felt immense relief. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m having my people here switch into digital mode. Details on how you get from points A to B to C will come through at your end in a text message once I sign off. We don’t know where the
von Scheer
is, but we do know where she isn’t. The routing instructions you’ll get make use of that to play things safe. And the Brazilians promise to get you back to
Challenger
as rapidly as they can.”
“Understood.”
“Cheer up,” Hodgkiss said. “I know about your private chat with the president. You did well, Captain. He’s very impressed. Now’s your chance to make it two for two.”
“Yes, sir.” Jeffrey felt doubtful inside. It seemed much more like double or nothing, a game he’d rather not play.
“It’s just like the good old days. When ships’ captains had to go ashore and act as diplomats. When the United States Navy was young, and the ink on the Monroe Doctrine was barely dry. Commodore Perry opening Japan. Teddy Roosevelt sending his Great White Fleet around the world…”
“That was a very long time ago, Admiral.”
Hodgkiss is either supremely shrewd or exceedingly desperate.
“Besides,” Hodgkiss added as if he’d read Jeffrey’s mind through the radio, “ever been to Rio de Janeiro?”
“No.” Jeffrey’s head was spinning.
“It’s beautiful. You’ll love it…. And this could be your last chance for a visit before the place gets nuked.”
E
rnst Beck had the conn in the
von Scheer
’s hushed and crowded Zentrale. The steady rhythm of normal changes of watch, submerged in a pressure hull that hadn’t seen the open air in days, gave him a feeling of intimate and cozy timelessness. The rising and setting of the sun, high affairs of state, trivial matters of human beings scurrying about on land in their teeming billions on different continents, all slipped into unreality. It was only the ship’s chronometer set to Berlin time, plus some mental juggling, that let Beck know what hour, what date it might be up on the surface.
It was only the thought of his orders that prevented him from having complete peace of mind.
He eyed his console screens. The ship’s depth was steady at 275 meters—900 feet. Her speed was thirty knots. She was over very deep water, drawing toward the South American coast. Conflicting ocean currents in what was called the Subtropical Convergence, where warm seas from the equator clashed with cold from frigid Antarctica, garbled local sonar conditions and greatly aided stealth.
Beck was pleased with his crew and with himself. There were no signs at all of enemy pursuit. The only sonar contacts were biologics, as
von Scheer
carefully stayed far outside civilian shipping lanes. Schools of shrimp, sardines, and tuna clicked and splashed and digested food in this less despoiled part of the ocean. Humpback whales sang hauntingly, evocatively as they migrated south—their normal seasonal movements rendered perhaps more urgent by the human battle erupting far behind.
Beck had even been able to sneak back to the Rocks in the initial acoustic confusion of the atomic skirmish with
Challenger
to quickly recover
von Scheer
’s minisub with all the surviving kampfschwimmer. Shedler and his men were vital for what
von Scheer
needed to do next.
As the German captain scanned through other screen pages using his console menu, track marble, and keyboard, he was surprised to see Stissinger enter the Zentrale from aft, accompanied by a messenger.
“The baron requests a meeting with you in your cabin, sir. At your convenience, he said.” Stissinger rolled his eyes meaningfully. He obviously found the diplomat as tough to take as Beck did.
Beck sighed. “Very well, Einzvo. Now’s as good a time as any. You take over here.” Von Loringhoven
was
quite an annoyance.
“I have the conn,” Stissinger said. He shot the captain a barely suppressed grin.
“You have the conn.” Beck smiled too; he appreciated Stissinger’s backstopping and support.
“This is the first officer,” Stissinger announced formally. “I have the conn.”
“Aye aye,” the watchstanders acknowledged.
Beck followed the messenger aft toward his own cabin.
Beck saw von Loringhoven waiting for him in the passageway. He opened the door and let the baron precede him, as the guest, then locked the door behind them.
“I suggest we sit first,” von Loringhoven said.
Beck sat, leaving von Loringhoven to take the other chair, the one with its back to the door.
A small ploy, but let him feel slightly vulnerable. I have the power position, facing the door.
Von Loringhoven leaned forward and gave Beck one of his piercing eye-lock gazes.
Typical
. Beck returned the gaze, impassive, not blinking. He waited for the other man to speak.
“I think this phase of our relationship has gone on long enough.”
“Baron?”
“We will open the next envelope with your orders soon. But much of what it says, I prefer now to anticipate and tell you in my own words.”
“As you wish.”
“We will have the kampfschwimmer leader Shedler join us when the orders are opened.”
“Fine. I suppose it’s his job to deliver our cargo?” The crated atom bombs, which Beck, while in Norway, had naively thought were bound for Boer South Africa.
The bombs I learned at the Rocks, to my horror, are destined for Argentina instead.
The bombs to which he gradually reconciled himself by falling back on his unfailing concept of duty and discipline.
“No. I see you do not fully understand.”
Beck tensed. Then he saw it,
all
of it.
A even worse atrocity.
More
innocent blood on my hands.
Beck felt his face turn purple with rage—at himself for his prior stupidity, at fate for putting him in such an insanely repugnant role, and at von Loringhoven for being the instrument of his moral self-destruction.