Silence greeted his words, the sort of silence that held neither acquiescence nor disagreement, simply fear.
“Vögel is it?”
“Yes, Herr General.”
“Are we involved in this in any way that’s traceable?”
“No, Herr General.”
“Then let us prepare ourselves. The dice are cast.”
[Nine minutes and forty-seven seconds earlier]
Kenneth Strong had leapt to attention but had quickly been told to sit down by the flight sergeant in charge, who fussed over his and the newly arrived passengers’ seatbelts as the C-54 gathered speed.
“Sorry, Sir Kenneth. Needs must. Our aircraft had a technical problem.”
“No problem, Sir, Glad the RAF could oblige. Are you going to Sweden too then?”
The Skymaster’s wheels left the ground and the sound of the undercarriage’s retraction made a few people jump.
Strong’s confusion was reasonable, given that his journey to Sweden had been planned over a week ago and he had already had Bedell-Smith join him since the Soviet approach.
“No… well, yes and no actually. Can I smoke?”
The flight sergeant decided it was not within his purview to deny the NATO commander his cigarette.
“Certainly, Sir.”
Eisenhower lit up and drew in the satisfying smoke as Bradley explained about the problems with the USAAF C-118 Liftmaster.
“But, if I might ask, what are you two doing here, General Bradley?”
Bradley sat back into his seat looking suitably coy.
Eisenhower puffed out a long stream of smoke.
“Golf.”
“Golf?”
“Well, Sir Kenneth… not just golf obviously. The President asked me to stay available for this Camp Vár meeting and someone who shall remain nameless”, …Bradley tried hard to look innocent… “Decided that he was heading up to Denmark to play some golf at Aalborg… the whole course has been cleared of snow apparently… so I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone and head up to be closer to Sweden, and wipe the smug look off this one’s face with a few rounds.”
Strong knew about their shared passion and could imagine the conversation between the two friends.
“Well, yes, I understand that, Sir, but… err… is it wise?”
“I felt I should remain at NATO but the President wanted me up near where the action is. After all, in his newly-considered view, Zhukov is the top dog and warrants my presence.”
He lit another cigarette.
“I argued against having both Walter and myself in Sweden at a time of heightened tension… we agreed on Denmark… Aalborg has a prime headquarters facility and… by some happy chance, an excellent gold course that has been cleared of snow and is ready to play.”
“Sounds perfect to me, Sir.”
Bradley added a sotto-voce comment
“Until he gets on the tee when it’ll all go wrong for him.”
Eisenhower, as he was supposed to do, heard the sleight.
“Dream on, General Bradley… I’ve seen you play remember!”
The group descended into laughter as the aircraft rose steadily to cruising height.
1103 hrs, Friday, 14th March 1947, Imperial College, London, England.
“I need to speak to Sir Kenneth immediately.”
Professor William Penney was as agitated as could be, and the secretary’s inability to connect him was too much to bear.
“Now… I must speak to him now… it’s a matter of vital importance, man!”
Military secretaries, unthreatened by rank, can be the most stubborn creatures on the planet and Penney was getting nowhere fast.
“Well where is he, man? I need to get hold of him right now.”
Again, the brick wall was insurmountable.
“Can you get a message to him… I mean straight away… it’s absolutely vital that I speak to him?”
The brick wall appeared a little more responsive and Penney gave his details.
“No, no… I can’t say. Just please tell him it’s about the documents he asked me to look through. I missed something, and he needs to know about it.”
He looked at his companion and shrugged.
“Thank you.”
He looked at the silent handset with unconcealed disdain.
“Blasted man… bloody blasted man!”
The air force officer held his peace.
“Leonard, can you pull any strings at all?”
Group Captain Cheshire took a steady breath.
“Not likely that I can get hold of him if you can’t, Bill.”
The two were friends from Tinian, when they both flew in ‘Big Stink’ for the third bombing mission to Yokosuka.
Cheshire, home for a spot of leave at La Court in Petersfield, had dropped in on his friend for luncheon, and walked into a blizzard of invective from the academician.
Penney finished threatening the telephone with silent words and replaced the receiver.
“I say… have you still got your clearance, Leonard?”
He hadn’t told Bill Penney about his latest assignment.
“Yes, still on the inside working on some special projects for the Air Force. All hush hush of course.”
“Quite. I wonder if you could pass the information on for me… just in case I can’t get hold of Sir Kenneth?”
“Delighted to, Bill. To whom?”
The question flummoxed Penney.
“Who do you see from the programme?”
Cheshire thought about his answer very carefully and made a decision.
“I see Leslie Groves occasionally.”
“Excellent… is he still expanding at the waist?”
Cheshire merely shrugged.
“No matter… yes. Perfect. Show it to Groves. Someone in authority needs to know.”
Cheshire could hide his curiosity no longer.
“Know what exactly, Bill… I am cleared for these things.”
It was Penney’s turn to weight up the pros and cons.
He rummaged in the second folder and brought out a piece of paper that was almost clear, except for one typed line of text.
“I’ll give you this folder. But this is what I missed first time round. Simply put, it had folded in the bottom of the envelope and I missed it. What do you think eh?”
“Well, I know what I think… but where did it come from?
“Apparently from some scientists working for the Russians.”
“Good Lord!”
Just in case, Cheshire read it again, this time aloud.
“235U92-92KR36/141BA56-USPENKA”
“Quite.”
“How old is this… do we know?”
“Haven’t the foggiest, Leonard.”
“235U92… Uranium 235 with 92 protons… Krypton… Barium… they’re ahead of where we had them, aren’t they?”
“Well Leonard, depending on the age of this information, they might already have it.”
“Which is why…”
“…why you need to get it known fast. I agree.”
The two exchanged insider looks that were full of concern.
“And Uspenka is?”
“Ah, that was the easy part. I just looked at a map. It’s in Russia but the trouble is… there’s more than one.”
1107 hrs, Friday, 14th March 1947, Friedrich-Ebert-Strasse, temporary government building #1, Magdeburg, Germany.
It was an unsecured line, so the message was not what it would seem to any listener.
“Say that again, Horst?”
“Kanzler, I repeat, there will be no Nibelungen at the Berlin Opera House this year.”
“That’s preposterous, man! How can this have happened?”
“Kanzler, it’s important just to accept it’s happened and to make other arrangements.”