The Long Hard Road

Chapter Forty-Two: The Hunt For Himmler

10 Downing Street

London, United Kingdom

20^th June 1942

Hanover spoke very calmly. “Himmler has escaped, and he has a nuclear warhead?”

Stirling nodded grimly. “Yes, Prime Minister,” he said. The war cabinet let out a collective gasp. “It could be a joke, or some misinformation, but…”

“We have to take it seriously,” Hanover said. “Has the press heard about it yet?”

Noreen shook her head. “Nothing yet,” she said. “The information could be restricted under an Advisory notice, if necessary, just to prevent a panic.”

Stirling coughed. “Sir, we cannot let them broadcast this information,” he said. “We have to prevent anyone from hearing about it.”

“Anyone reasonable would know that the bomb could not appear here,” McLachlan said.

“People aren’t reasonable,” Stirling said.

McLachlan chuckled. “You’re too young to be so cynical,” he said. “Now…”

Hanover shook his head grimly, tapping the table for silence. “We have to do more,” he said. “Now… where might the weapon be?”

“Satellites have tracked SS units moving into Russian Poland,” Cunningham said. “I don’t think that they could use it to bomb us, or to hit the Americans, as the bomb would almost certainly be too heavy to place on a rocket.”

Hanover scowled. “They can’t have simply copied one of our units?” He asked. “There’s no chance at all of them building a working ICBM with a nuclear warhead?”

Stirling shook his head. “That question was analysed back to front,” he assured him. “The Oversight Committee concluded that building a warhead small enough to fit on an ICBM would be beyond German capabilities for at least five years.”

“This would be a dreadful time for an oversight,” Hanover said ruefully. “So… where is the little bastard?”

“Somewhere in Poland, we suspect,” Cunningham said. “The Fuhrerbunker was searched from top to bottom by our troops and turned up nothing. We hold pretty much all of Germany now.”

Hanover nodded, knowing that that was relative. Rommel’s force might have been taking over the administration, but a single fugitive could slip through the net pretty easily, even with the food distribution being handled by Allied troops. The front lines lay in what had been Poland’s western border in 2015, but the confusion was so great that there could be no attempt to seal the borders.

“The Oversight Committee believes that we will face the nuclear weapon used to shatter one of our attacking forces,” Stirling said. “It’s the only use that makes sense; they can’t get us and they probably can’t fool one of our radiation detectors.”

Hanover scowled. “I’ll have to discuss that with the President,” he said. “For the moment, what about the German research labs? Has anything been found?”

“The Germans wrecked them all pretty well,” Stirling said grimly. “We found some of their papers, however, and they seem to have enriched enough uranium for a small bomb… and there are suggestions that some material went to Russia. As for the bioweapons projects, we found most of them and shut them down.”

Cunningham nodded. “Clearly Mengele’s lab was their main lab for smallpox,” he said. “They seem to have been working on nastier bugs, but we shut them down before they could get anything into production. Teams from Porton Down are going over the German bases with a fine-toothed comb, just in case.”

“Which still leaves us with the problem of shutting down Stalin’s regime,” Hanover said. “When can we move forward again?”

Cunningham exchanged glances with Eisenhower. “In about two weeks,” he said. “Extra American divisions will have arrived by that time, which will make up for the heavy losses we suffered in the breakout. That would also give us time to stockpile and rebuild some of the expanded missiles.”

“True,” Hanover said. He frowned inwardly; the plan had been for the Moscow underground to rise up when Allied troops invaded the Ukraine, which would support the Ukrainians in their uprising. “Two weeks, you said?” Cunningham nodded.

Eisenhower coughed. “It might be a good idea to rotate some of the units out of the battle lines,” he said. “Very few units have taken such a beating as they did during the breakout.”

Which had a British officer in command, Hanover completed coldly. “We don’t have time,” he snapped. “We have to end this war before Stalin sets the world ablaze.”

Hanover sipped his tea while waiting for the call to be placed, knowing that the war was about to become a lot worse. Events were moving away from his control, heading towards a nuclear exchange. Will there be anything left of Europe? He wondered, as he studied the situation reports. The uprisings in France seemed to be being directed by the Soviet Union, designed to put more pressure on the Allies.

Quagmire, Hanover thought coldly, and shook his head. Germany, at least, seemed to be relieved to have the war over – well, most of it. Given enough time, perhaps Rommel could take over as Chancellor and Germany could become democratic, but with Himmler moving east, the Allies would just have to give chase.

I want this war over, Hanover thought, as the phone buzzed. “Good morning, Mr President,” he said. “I assume that you’ve read the information from the SHAFE?”

Truman sounded worried. “Charles, how much credence can we place on such a report?” He asked. “General Groves doesn’t believe that the threat is real.”

“I wish I knew,” Hanover said honestly. “It’s just within the realm of the possible that the Germans might have managed to compete a warhead; they seem to have finally developed a working enrichment method, but they would still have to figure out how to detonate it.”

Truman smiled grimly through the vidlink. “I assume they haven’t held a test?” He asked. “They would be gambling on an explosion first time?”

Hanover nodded. “We couldn’t have missed a nuclear explosion,” he said. “The blasted things can be seen from space, Harry.” He shook his head. “If they have a nuke, it’s untested.”

“And it’s gone into Russia,” Truman said. He scowled. “They could use it to save Vladivostok.”

Hanover considered. The port city was staving, but it refused to surrender and it was too strong for a direct attack to capture it. “I don’t think so,” he said finally. “It would be a pretty large device, if it exists, and they would need to send it on the railroad, which we’ve been breaking up constantly. Incidentally, did you find anything useful in Korea?”

Truman shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “The Japanese might have moved both of their nuclear programs there, but they were nowhere near a bomb when they surrendered. Incidentally, how is that going?”

Hanover smiled at the question. They might be friends, but they were also rivals. Both of them knew that the other – or at least the other’s nation – would be the… competitor, if not the enemy, of their own nation. Both of them intended to keep the military and political alliance moving, because that would be helpful in ensuring a stable world, but commercially… economically?

He sighed. Would the world always be torn by rivalry?

“It’s proceeding smoothly,” he said. “Admiral Yamamoto managed to short-circuit potential resistance quite nicely, and we’re working on the demilitarisation of Japan now. Admittedly, we have only four Australian divisions – and two Indian ones – on Japan itself, but they’re the most formidable force in Japan at the moment. The remains of the Japanese Navy have been given to Australia, although I suspect that they’ll soon be scrapped.”

He grinned. “You should have read the reports on their preparations to meet our invasion, which they expected would be coming soon,” he said. “It would have been a nightmare. How are you doing?”

Truman sighed. “You know what China is like,” he said. “Half of me – and half of Congress – thinks that we should just abandon China and leave the mixture of peoples in Manchuria and Korea to sort themselves out, and the China Lobby is very keen on rebuilding China. You, of course, snatched back Hong Kong and Formosa, and your allies have occupied almost all of the Dutch East Indies.”

Hanover shrugged. “After the mess they made of themselves after the first time they became independent, I think that Prime Minister Menzies made the right choice,” he said. “With a ten-year period of development, they’ll be able to become democratic and take their place in the GODS.”

Truman chuckled. “We’re going to have to change that name,” he said. “Perhaps just ODS; Organisation of Democratic States.”

“But think of all the schoolchildren who will have to learn about this,” Hanover said. “We should give them something to laugh at.”

“I suppose,” Truman said. “My people say at least two to three weeks before we can hit Stalin,” he said. “What about yours?”

Hanover nodded. “Pretty much the same,” he said. “We need time to ensure that everyone has extra sensors designed to watch for anomalous radiation sources. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and catch the bomb before it can be detonated.”

“Let’s hope so,” Truman said. He hesitated. “You know that our own bomb is ready for use?”

Hanover concealed his surprise with an effort. It had been harder than they’d expected to predict American progress, assuming that Truman was telling the truth. No matter Parliament’s restrictions on transferring technology, Hanover knew that the Americans knew a great deal about how their original program had worked.

He sighed. “This world is not going to have any reluctance about using nukes,” he said sadly. “Perhaps it was a mistake not to simply start blasting German cities…”

He shook his head, dismissing the train of thought. “No, I didn’t know,” he said. “I assume that you intend to use it?”

Truman nodded grimly. “I know that the Russians lose ten missiles for every hundred or so that they fire at us,” he said. “However, these constant pinpricks are proving… irritating. In fact, Congress is in uproar; being bombarded from space is not what they want.”

Hanover scowled. “What do they want?”

“They want me to use the bomb on a Russian city,” he said. “While Vladivostok seems temping, it would be rather bad for the soldiers nearby. If the Germans detonate a nuke, the Fat Lady will be used.”

Hanover smiled grimly at the weak joke. “On the Russians, I assume,” he said. “Which city in particular?”

“Congress wants Moscow,” Truman said. He blinked at Hanover’s expression. “Is that a problem?”

“Given that Moscow is the centre of our efforts to knock Stalin over without fighting our way to Vladivostok from Berlin, then yes,” Hanover said. “Are you serious?” Truman nodded. Hanover looked up at the map. “Saint Petersburg,” he said.

Truman lifted an eyebrow. “Saint Petersburg?”

“It’s called Leningrad here,” Hanover said, mentally cursing the error. “Stalingrad itself wouldn’t make a bad target, if you were determined.”

“It would be easier to hit Saint Petersburg,” Truman said. “That sounds better than Leningrad. I have to warn you, I think, under the treaty.”

Hanover nodded. “On the record, I can’t say that I approve,” he said. “Off the record…”

“Good luck?” Truman guessed. He smiled. “So, we move east in two weeks, assuming that there are no further problems. Is General Flynn making sufficient allowances for Chowhound?”

Hanover nodded. “We’re bringing in thousands of tons of food from America,” he said. “Thank you for that.”

“It’s no problem,” Truman assured him. “That Briton who’s become one of our citizens has done wonders for arranging the entire operation.”

Hanover smiled. It had to have been Oliver. “I don’t suppose that you knew who killed Hoover?” He asked. “As far as we can tell from the SS records, it wasn’t a German operation.”

“I didn’t think it was,” Truman said. “Quite frankly, I can’t decide if I should encourage the hunt or not.”

Hanover grinned. “Not my problem,” he said. “Seriously, if there’s anything we can do to help…”

“Thank you,” Truman said. “We’ll talk again in a week and review progress?”

Hanover nodded. “Nice talking to you,” he said. “Chat soon.”

Governing House

Hamburg, Germany

20^th June 1942

General – he supposed that he was now Reichskanzler – Rommel had moved the headquarters of the Bundeswehr to Hamburg, which had been quick to surrender when surrounded by British and American troops. The town had rapidly been transformed into a base of operations, which the food supplies for Operation Chowhound being distributed there while the German transport net was rebuilt.

Professor Horton sat on the bench in the Hamburg Park, just enjoying the sunshine. He supposed that he was being silly – and the tales of black men going white if they spent long enough underground were nonsense – but there was just something about soaking up the sun. For the first couple of days, he’d had an escort, but he’d protested.

“I want to go see my family,” he’d insisted, but he’d been refused transport home. There were simply too many demands on the Allied transportation network to permit him to return to Britain, even though he could talk to Jasmine whenever he wanted to. She was fine, and very relived that he was safe.

“I’m going to give you the biggest blowjob ever,” she’d promised, and the thought of it was enough to make him horny for the first time in months. Living in the Fuhrerbunker didn’t improve a man’s libido. So he lay back, enjoying the sun, and wondering what would happen next.

“Mind if I join you?” A woman’s voice asked. The British accent was familiar enough for him to open his eyes; it was the reporter from the Fuhrerbunker. He’d hated her on sight, or so he recalled now, but he’d heard about what she’d been used for by Himmler.

“I suppose,” he said, shifting to make room for her. Some of the female citizens of Hamburg, short on food, had offered to trade their bodies for food, but Horton had always refused them. He’d always been faithful to Jasmine; he wanted to have her by his side for the rest of his life.

“I’m sorry about interviewing you like that,” Stewart said. “I could have refused.”

“You were an idiot,” Horton said, not entirely in the mood to be generous. “Why did you come?”

She shifted slightly. Horton noticed the places on her body where she felt sore and winced. “I wanted to be known as a great reporter,” she said. “Even Himmler didn’t understand what the media could do.”

“You lap up what they give you with your tongues,” Horton said. It wasn’t a condemnation; he didn’t have the energy to condemn anything. “If evil wears a smile, its good evil; evil we can safely ignore. If evil is skin-headed and black, then the police have to be called, even before trouble breaks out.”

“I’ve known a lot of skinheads who were good people,” Stewart said. “Did you see Herman?”

“If I were you, I’d be trying to forget him,” Horton said. “He said he loved you before he died.”

“I never loved him,” Stewart confessed. “I fucked him because I was recoiling from meeting Hitler, and then it just went on and on.”

Horton chuckled, even through the pain it caused him. “I’m not your father-confessor,” he said. “I’m not even catholic. If you want to make repentance, go find a priest.”

Stewart shook her head. “I learnt a great deal while I was at Mengle’s mercy,” she said. “I was raped every day, merely to find out if I could get pregnant or not. I may never be able to have children now, just adoption if I ever get married. I was less than a woman to him, not even a sex object.”

“Welcome to reality,” Horton said unsympathetically. “In everywhere, but democratic countries, women and men have face that same simple truth; their lives mean nothing to their oppressors. Just for being wrong; the wrong sex, the wrong race, the wrong religion, the wrong colour, they are toys to the rulers. They are fit only for rape, or slavery, or for simply being exterminated for existing.”

He held her eyes. “That’s the truth that thousands of people faced in the future, the truth that people like you kept from the public because it would have meant losing your access. We live in our nice safe worlds – what does it take to remind us that the universe is red of tooth and claw and she will punish the unwary?”

Stewart shrugged. “What will happen now?” She asked. “With the war and everything?”

Horton wondered if she knew about the atomic bomb threat. He didn’t intend to discuss it with her. “I hope that we’ll end Stalin’s regime as well,” he said. “People like you, of course, will go on and on about how wrong we are to attempt to save people from evil and…”

“You sound bitter,” Stewart said. “I’m sorry…”

Horton laughed harshly. “People who don’t learn from history are condemned to repeat it,” he said.

“We did repeat it now,” Stewart said. “I’m sorry for being born.”

Horton snorted at the plaintive tone in her voice. “I hope that we can rebuild a democratic society in Russia,” he said. “There will be people who’ll have survived the economic experiments of Lenin’s time; they’ll be capable of adapting. Given sufficient investment, outside assistance and nuclear power, they might just manage to build a working country without more bloodshed.”

He grinned. “Who knows? We might manage to civilise and democratise the entire world,” he said. “There have been no people like you cursing the west with every breath here, not yet.”

Stewart scowled. “I understand your point,” she said. “I came with a proposition.”

“I’m already married,” Horton said. “What do you want?”

“A book,” Stewart said. “It could be a bestseller.”

Horton gaped at her, and then barked a laugh. “I imagine that you’ll make yourself into a hero and myself into a villain,” he said.

Stewart shook her head. “It will be jointly-written and it will be written under an agreement that it has to please both of us before it gets published,” she said.

Horton looked at her. “Tell me something,” he said. “Are you going to follow the army into Russia?” Stewart nodded. “Tell you what,” Horton said. “If I approve of your reports and newspaper articles and what-have-you, I’ll agree, understand?” Stewart nodded and held out a hand. Horton shook it solemnly.