North Reich (9 page)

      
Tom watched as Alicia walked around, her eyes down.
 
She was clearly looking for something.
 
She looked up.
 
Her face was pale.

      
"Here is where they shot Henry."
 
She pointed at the ground. "See the bloodstains?
 
Those are Henry's and those over there belong to that guy named Paul."
 
She moved off towards the bushes and in a few yards.
 
She was quickly invisible, so Tom followed her.
 
"I was woozy, but I think this is about where I threw the pouch."

      
"Sounds good to me,” he said.
 
He called for the MPs and had them begin a search.
 
Their orders were to find the pouch, but not touch it.

      
Locating it didn't take long at all.
 
After only about ten minutes, one of the MPs called out that he'd found it.
 
The pouch was resting on a bush of some kind, but had been torn open.
 
Some papers were lying loose on the ground.

      
Tom glared at the MP.
 
"You didn't touch it, did you?"

      
The MP was totally unperturbed by the implication that he had.
 
"No sir.
 
That's exactly the way I found it."

      
Of course it was, Tom quickly realized.
 
Even if the soldier had been nosy, he hadn't had time to do anything about it.
 
"How did it get torn?" Alicia asked.

      
"Probably animals, ma'am," the MP answered.
 
"It’s leather which the animals like, and if there was blood and some of it got on the pouch, the critters in the area would find it impossible to resist."

      
Again Tom agreed, although Alicia turned pale again.
 
He picked up the pouch and began rummaging through the papers.
 
Some of them did look like they'd been literally pawed over.

      
"I have a sort of manifest," Alicia said.
 
"There are supposed to be fifty-three separate reports and they are all numbered."

      
They checked and counted forty-seven.
 
The MPs were sent on another sweep that lasted a couple of hours.
 
They found four of the missing reports, but two were still missing and likely to remain so.
 
There wasn't much of a breeze, but what did it take to make a sail out of a page and take it off to Oz?
 
It was getting dark as well as cold.
 
Their searching time was just about over.
 
A light, cold rain was beginning to fall.
 
Any missing papers would soon be turned to mush.

      
Tom turned to the MP who'd made the earlier comment about animals.
 
"Do you suppose some squirrel is lining his nest with a top secret document?" he asked with a grin.

      
"I'd put money on it, major.
 
Whatever it was, we'll never see it again."

This particular B24 bomber was an older one with a lot of wear and tear on its hull.
 
The new planes were being sent to the Pacific where the action was.
 
Rumor had it that this one had flown anti-sub missions for the RAF before working its way back to the U.S. Air Force.
 
Regardless, the Liberator now belonged to First Lieutenant, Terry Romano, U.S. Army Air Force, age 23.
 
Counting himself, he had a crew of ten.
 
They had all been together for only a couple of weeks before they’d commenced patrolling and were still getting to know each other and the plane.
 
Romano was happy.
 
So far it was a good crew and a good plane.

      
The B24 was not as glamorous or as well-publicized as the B17 Flying Fortress, but the Liberator was a solid workhorse and warrior, and this one had been modified to suit her new purpose as a potential sub-killer.
 
She’d been built at the Willow Run, Michigan assembly plant of the Ford Motor Company.
 
The huge factory had been converted to bomber production and thousands had rolled off the assembly line.
 

She was equipped with S-band radar for detecting ships on the surface at night, and a powerful Leigh light for illuminating the target.
 
Both devices had been developed by the British.
 
Once identified as hostile, the target ship would be swept by gunfire, or depth charges would be dropped, or both.
 
The workhorse bomber had a range of more than two thousand miles and could stay airborne for an entire night of spotting and observing.

      
Other modifications had been made.
 
Instead of machine guns, the bomber was equipped with 37mm cannon in the front and rear.
 
These had been cannibalized from P39 Airacobras and could fire up to 150 specially modified armor piercing shells a minute in five round clips, and it was presumed that they could chew their way through the hull of a U-boat with ease.
 
Romano had heard that some B17s had been converted to carry 75mm cannon, but he found that hard to believe.

      
At least that was the theory.
 
So far, they hadn't found anything and, even if they had, their orders were not to fire.
 
They would circle in the darkness, identify their prey, and then leave the little bastard alone, which irked both Romano and his new crew.
 
The Nazis had fired on American ships in the past, even sinking a destroyer, the Reuben James, in 1941, and with great loss of life.
 
Many wondered why we hadn't declared war on Germany for that atrocity even though it had occurred months before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.

      
It was also galling that U-boats were operating just off the coast of the United States.
 
In this case they were just outside the mouth of the Chesapeake and dangerously close to Washington, D.C.
 

Even though they were far enough off the coast for the subs to be in international waters, it was clear that the Germans were doing their own spying and preparing for a possible future war.

      
The U-boats were deadly but vulnerable.
 
Their Achilles Heel was that they had to surface to charge their batteries, which made them sitting ducks during the day.
 
Thus, they did their charging at night when they hoped they were invisible.
 
Apparently they did understand the concept of plane-borne radar, but had no other choice.
 
If they surfaced during the day just off the mouth of the Chesapeake, their pictures would have been taken and their presence exposed.
 
Of course, in wartime they would have been shot to pieces.
 

      
Romano yawned.
 
He was from Philadelphia and his parents were immigrants from Italy.
 
His grandfather had lost a leg in World War I fighting along the Isonzo River near the Austrian border, and his family had no love for anything German, even if it had been the Austrians his grandfather had been fighting.
 
German or Austrian, it was all the same thing to Tony and his family, especially since Austria became part of Herr Hitler's fucking Reich.

      
"Anything, Joey?" he asked his radar operator.

      
"Nope."

      
Another couple of hours and dawn would start for home.
 
They'd named the bomber the
Vampire
because she operated at night.
 
Other bombers in the squadron were named Bat, or Dracula, or other stuff like that.
 
Romano's crew thought
Vampire
was the best name available.
 
It still seemed weird that they were cooperating with the navy, but they were not about to question orders.
 
Maybe the two rival services had decided there was a war on.

      
"Got something," Joey said loudly.
 
The excitement was clear in his voice.
 
"Might just be a sub."

      
Joey gave directions and they flew near but not over the target.
 
"Skipper, please let's turn on the light.
 
I bet it would blind them and scare the shit out of them."

      
Romano grinned.
 
He could visualize the sub's crew listening intently to the distant sound of the B24 and wondering whether it meant danger. "Sounds like a great idea to me, only thing is, we ain't gonna do it and you know it, so quit trying to tempt me."

      
Joey laughed and then started.
 
"Wait, skip, there's another one.
 
Oh Christ, there's three of those little Nazi ducks all in a row.
 
What in the hell are they up to?"

      
"Beats the hell out of me, which makes it all the more important that they don't know we can see so well in the dark.
 
We'll log it in and let the wizards at the Pentagon tell us what it means.
 
Besides, it's just about time for dinner – I mean breakfast."

Captain Franz Koenig sat at ease in the overstuffed chair in General von Arnim's office.
 
The general was excited and there was a near feral glint in his eyes.

"We have further orders, captain.
 
In a few months at most we will implement Operation North Storm.
 
In the meantime, I want you to coordinate with Herr Neumann and his Gestapo to ensure that no hint of it gets out.
 
In particular, I want you to impress on him that there should be no ridiculous attempts to gain information like that abortive attempt to steal a courier's package.
 
His reports insist that the Americans are treating it as an attempted robbery, something like what Bonnie and Clyde would do, but I am not so certain."

Koenig made a mental note to find out just who Bonnie and Clyde were.
 
There were still so many things he didn't know about American or Canadian culture and history.
 

"I will make every effort to get him to cooperate."
 

And cooperate was the operative word.
 
The Gestapo did not report to the army, considering themselves superior to it, which often led to complications.
 
Neumann's independence clearly annoyed von Arnim, although he would never mention it.
 
There might only be a relative handful of Gestapo agents in Canada, but they carried with them the power of life and death.
 
They could arrest anyone, including Koenig and von Arnim, for any reason whatsoever, and hold them and interrogate them at their pleasure. Koenig shuddered at the thought of being interrogated by the Gestapo.
 
Their tortures were rumored to be hideously effective. Even those who were released were changed forever, and not just physically.
 

"I'm sure you will, captain.
 
In the meantime, you might want to stay in contact with our Wehrmacht friends at our embassy in Washington and also try to find out what Neumann's plans are for supporting us during North Storm.
 
Also, what the devil does he have in mind for those fool Black Shirts in his Canadian Legion.
 
We wouldn't want to be tripping over each other, now would we?"

Certainly not, Koenig thought.
 
The normal fog of battle problems were bad enough, but add to it the sometimes clumsy efforts of the Gestapo and it could be disastrous.

Von Arnim continued.
 
"Fortunately, close coordination with the Kriegsmarine will not be necessary.
 
Admiral Rader's submarines will have their own targets and they will not be affected by anything we do."
 
He chuckled.
 
"At least, I hope not."

"Will more of Rader’s E-boats enter the St. Lawrence or Lake Ontario?
 
And what about his submarines getting into the lakes, sir?"

The general pondered for a moment.
 
The Americans were furious at the presence of German warships in Canadian waters, no matter how small the German Admirals seemed to think they were.
 
The Americans were barely tolerant of German troops in Canada and, had they not been involved in their war with Japan, might have pushed hard, even violently, to get them out.
 
America might have suspended her precious Monroe Doctrine due to exigent circumstances, but it was not forgotten.
 
It was also fortunate that their Secretary of State, Cordell Hull, was old and said to be in poor health.

Von Arnim smiled.
 
"You have raised some very important issues.
 
However, I am certain that these have all been anticipated."