Stirling shuffled his notes. “The Germans launched three ballistic missiles,” he said grimly. “The first two, apparently a modified V2 design, splashed down in two widely separated locations near the coast, while the third splashed down near New York. The analysis team is en route, but it seems clear that the Germans intended to miss us.”
“A warning shot,” General Cunningham injected.
“So what?” Hathaway asked coldly. “If they put their resources into such missiles, we can still knock them down, can’t we?”
Cunningham shook his head. “At the moment, we have a force of two hundred Patriot missiles, which were reserved for intercepting scud missiles that we feared might be fired at us during the war on terror. Additionally, they were tasked for a limited ABM role when the Iranian crisis became acute and worrying. They were held back from the Battle of Britain as they would have been massive overkill against German planes. In effect, madam, we cannot replace any of them at the moment.”
Hanover held up a hand. “General, how much damage can those missiles do?”
“Not much,” Stirling answered. Cunningham nodded gratefully. “They cannot carry a large warhead; they might knock down buildings and small parts of a city, but they could hardly force us to surrender.”
“Perhaps they could,” McLachlan mused. The Foreign Secretary scowled at their faces. “Correct me if I’m wrong, please, but is it not true that the only way of intercepting one is though an ABM missile? A normal aircraft missile won’t handle it?”
“Probably not,” Stirling said. “An ASRAAM would have to be very lucky to score a hit.”
“And, of course, they can hammer American cities as well,” McLachlan continued. “Those were warning shots; they couldn’t have missed so badly, could they?”
Stirling shook his head. “Even without whatever they’ve learnt from us, they were still capable of hitting cities in the original timeline.”
“So… Himmler wants us to know that German has the capability to hit our cities and that there isn’t much that we can do about it,” McLachlan said. “Unless I miss my guess, the bastard wants us to agree to a truce.”
“They have been moving troops down in Sweden,” Hanover mused. “That might be intended as a sign of good faith.”
“They don’t have a choice,” Cunningham said. “With Patton closing in on Malmo, they risk having the entire force trapped – again. Instead, they’re allowing the Soviets to take over in Stockholm.”
Hanover scowled. “That’s beside the point, for the moment,” he said. “The question is; what do we do when Germany starts throwing more missiles at us?”
“With the help of satellites, we could track their launchers and target them from the air,” Stirling said. “We might be able to hold back the threat.”
“They’d only have to get lucky once or twice to damage our defences,” Cunningham muttered. “Even if their targeting is bad, they could knock out an airfield or a army base with a lucky hit.”
“That’s not the point,” McLachlan insisted. “They want – need – to force us to accept a peace on their terms.” He grinned. “I bet you all a fine dinner at the Nandos in Trafalgar Square that they’ll send us a peace offer through that Stewart woman.”
“No bet,” Hanover said. “What do we tell the public?”
“The truth,” Noreen said firmly. “We explain to them that Germany is experimenting with long-range missiles and they don’t pose a serious threat.”
“Do we retaliate?” McLachlan asked bluntly. “We’re talking about a threat to civilian life here.”
Hanover frowned. “We can hardly justify using a nuke,” he said. “I think we’d better stick with the moral high ground.”
Cunningham nodded. “We’re still turning up German factories,” he said. “We can expand our own bombing program.”
“True,” Hanover said. “Have a contingency plan drawn up.”
If there was one thing Hanover disliked about being Prime Minister, it was facing the Press. Parliament he understood; Parliament was meant to keep a Prime Minister on his toes, but the Press hunted for sensational stories, and to hell with national security. The baying mob lurked outside Ten Downing Street, having been tipped off by their spies – sources – within the MOD that something had happened.
“I can confirm that the war situation has darkened,” Hanover said, reading from memory. Putting a positive spin on the news would be difficult, but then he’d never believed that the people of Britain were idiots who needed to be coddled. He intended to dismantle the coddling legislation as soon as possible. “Germany had finally developed a rocket capable of hitting us.”
“Two years too early?” A reporter called. The middle-aged man would have been a great TV personality, if he’d had the looks for it. “That’s fast!”
“They probably stole the idea from the Americans,” Hanover said. Passing the blame onto the Americans was easy these days. “Fortunately for us, their terminal guidance systems are not particularly accurate and…”
“They couldn’t hit a barn door?” Someone shouted. His colleagues shushed him.
“Something like that,” Hanover said. “While this does pose a small threat to British lives, the RAF is already engaged in hunting down the launchers and targeting German industries in retaliation for the strike.” He smiled. “I urge you all not to panic,” he said. “They cannot build nuclear weapons” – the wag refrained from shouting ‘yet’ – “and they can only do a limited amount of damage. Warnings will be broadcast when incoming missiles are detected and we will do everything within our power to shoot the missiles down.”
He’d told them previously that there would be no questions. For a wonder, the reporters didn’t shout out questions as he re-entered Ten Downing Street. Major Stirling was waiting for him, as he had ordered.
“That went well,” he muttered, as Stirling passed him the first report. The recovery team had searched the area where the first missile had gone down, but they’d only found wreckage. He couldn’t say that he was astonished; the German rockets had carried warheads, after all. “Did the Americans say anything?”
“There was an explosion outside New York,” Stirling said helpfully. “They’re apparently still considering what it means for the war.”
Hanover nodded. “This isn’t good news,” he said. “We’re still a month from the planned invasion of Europe, and the last thing we need is more trouble.”
“Yes, sir,” Stirling said. “On the good side of the news, General Stillwell reported that the first ten divisions of American infantry and American armoured units were pretty much ready for deployment. They were wanting to move them over here as soon as possible, just to get them in their jump-off points. Also, the 1st Marine Division, the one that was twinned as a helicopter force, has been pulled back to the United States and sent to Pearl Harbour.”
“To hit Vladivostok,” Hanover muttered. “Any news from Japan?”
“Nothing,” Stirling said. “We expended peace feelers through Siam – which we have very limited contacts with – but the reply basically agreed to a hold in place and Japan keeping all that it had gained.”
Hanover shook his head. The Australians were showing no desire to end the war and why should they? They were taking all of the resource-rich islands, after all, and extracting revenge for the invasion.
“The Indians have been reluctant to launch an invasion of Burma,” Stirling said. “We consulted with the provisional government, but they’re desperate to keep the Indian Army and the forces we moved in to India in place, just to prevent civil war from breaking out. As long as our forces are in place, none of the princes will try anything stupid, but if they all work together…”