Everyman sat around the table had made the connection to the intelligence assessments regarding the Japanese research and the sudden appearance of Anthrax in the Baltic.
“I should say that there is some disagreement amongst the scientists on this, and there’s still much work to be done, but it’s felt by many that this is a new, virulent, and particularly resilient strain of the infection. You will recall that such an infection was included within the possible items researched by the Japanese biological units.”
The murmurs clearly confirmed that they did.
“At this time, more tests are being carried out. The Loch Tralaig is in quarantine, which does affect our anti-submarine capability but the Admiralty is taking steps to cover this vital area with another Loch class ship, which has already received orders to relocate.”
Naval problems were naval problems to most present, and therefore of little consequence.
“As soon as Porton Down has any further information, I will ensure it’s presented to you. I should also say that intelligence reached us from special units with the partisans in Lithuania… intelligence that confirms that Soviet NKVD units transported a large number of drums of hazardous material… as much as one hundred and fifty drums of it, roughly one hundred litres per drum. The drums appear to have been specially weighted so as to sink, not float as I’m assured they would do normally. We’re unsure if that is significant.”
Eisenhower stood and stopped the barrage of questions in their infancy.
“Gentlemen, quite clearly we simply don’t know enough at the moment, but I think I can summarise matters quite simply.”
They quietened down quickly and Ike delivered the bottom line.
“The Soviet Union appears to have attempted to transport a biological weapon into our lines but, thanks to the Royal Navy, failed. We have no idea if this was the first or only attempt to do so. At this time we remain at peace, but we cannot ignore this new threat… this unusual and deadly menace.”
He moved across to the map and examined it quickly.
“From where the sub was sunk, they could be accessing Denmark or Germany directly, or maybe they even intended to go beyond… Holland… the North Sea… England?”
The muttering stopped when he turned back to face them.
“One thing’s for sure. Things just got a whole lot more complicated again. After the enemy use of a nerve agent, certain stocks were released for our use, should it be felt prudent to use them. I immediately dismissed it, as I felt it was more dangerous to use when set against the advantages it gained. Progress on some protective clothing was made, but only recently did it see a genuine leap, and that was when we discovered the information from Japan. Basically, we don’t have enough good protection in country if this thing gets outta hand.”
He put his hands on his hips and set his jaw.
“The best protection we have is to be vigilant… as it always is of course. I don’t like this at all. Everything points to the Soviets thinking about attacking, and yet they comply, in the main, with the terms agreed at Camp Vár. Our intelligence agencies can find little of substance on their intentions… which helps us not one goddamned bit!”
He slapped a hand on his thigh to emphasise his point.
“So I’m going to need to develop a plan, so now’s the time to ante up if you’ve any ideas.”
The discussion was energetic to say the least, and covered anything from pre-emptive air strikes to first use of the chemical stocks recently dispatched from the US.
The matter of informing the Soviets about the submarine and what they knew was heavily discussed, and the intelligence view of not doing so won the day.
Subsequently, the political view agreed.
The nature of the submarine’s contents would also be kept secret amongst the Allies, limited to those in the room, and certain others cleared for such grave matters.
By the end of the meeting, the senior officers went back to their respective headquarters and let their men know that, yet again, the game had been ramped up by events and that the stakes were getting higher and higher.
Once the main group had left, Eisenhower waited until the equipment had been stowed away before ordering the staff out, leaving him, Bradley, and McCreery alone with the intelligence officer.
Ike tackled Dalziel on the one burning question that had been avoided by those who were in the know.
“Sir Roger, is there any possibility that this submarine was one of those missing from the Japanese navy?”
Dalziel nodded in acknowledgement that Eisenhower and the others had resisted asking in front of those who were not cleared for such matters.
“Sir, that’s a question that is presently troubling us. From what I know, the sonar operator aboard Loch Tralaig is a genius who recognised the sub as a Type XXI or derivative; he’s steadfast in that belief and is backed up by his watch officer, despite continuing questioning. The uniform means nothing of course, as Soviet seamen could be aboard a Japanese submarine for a number of reasons… plainly, none of them good.”
Bradley made a sound like a labouring water buffalo, outlining his annoyance and feeling of helplessness with one all-encompassing display.
“We share your discontent, General Bradley. If it’s a Soviet manned Type XXI then we can probably look at the possibility that items came overland from the East, as we understood. If it’s a Japanese submarine, then we’ll have failed to prevent it entering the Baltic, which suggests it has a capability for hiding that has defeated our systems. That, in itself, is of major concern, without the possible cargo they carried from the Empire.”
…Twenty-two minutes earlier, seven miles north-northeast of Ceuta, North Africa.
“Well, I suppose their lordships know what they’re doing… but damn and blast it, Jimmy… damn and blast it!”
“Quite, Skipper.”
“The men may mutiny, you know.”
Lieutenant-Commander Hamilton-Hewitt RNR made the comment only partially in jest.
“You’ll soothe their troubled minds, Skipper.”
The order to relocate had arrived at the worst possible moment.
The following day they were to be relieved on station and allowed some time ashore in Tangiers, where much was anticipated by way of female company and alcoholic entertainment.
“Still, nothing for it. Clueless!”
The navigator came running, his name no reflection on his skills or the esteem in which he was held.
“Set a course for Brest… that’s Brittany to you Cambridge types. We’ll refuel there before proceeding on to our destination.”
“Might I be so bold as to ask, Skipper?”
“Somewhere a lot colder, Clueless… bloody Baltic… based out of Rostock. So… frauleins and pils instead of the pleasures of the North African souks for us. Quick as you can, Clueless.”
“Aye, aye, Skipper.”
Within a few minutes, HMS Loch Tarbert, pennant number K-431, one of the excellent ASW frigates with the electric eel, infrared searchlights, and Squid launchers, left her station at Gibraltar and headed north to replace Loch Tralaig.
1618 hrs, Tuesday, 4th March 1947, Lindingö, Sweden.
Colonel Keranin of the GRU had overseen the delivery personally, although his hands never once touched the information itself.
Once dispatched from Moscow, the thin folder was left within its disguise, not to be viewed until it was delivered to its ultimate destination.