The Dead Alone (Empires Lost Book 3)

by Charles S. Jackson

  “Corporal Saito is one of my men,” Miyagi assured, the emphasis making it quite clear what he meant. “He speaks no German – we’ve made sure of that – and he can be trusted implicitly in any case.”

  “And can you be similarly trusted, Miyagi-san?” Reuters fired back sharply, making it just as clear he was a long way from accepting the man at face value. The OKW has been quite open with your Naval High Command regarding a lost raider we’ve been trying to locate, and there’s very conveniently been no assistance whatsoever from our closest and most powerful ally… you’ll forgive me if it seems all too suspicious that you are frank with us now within minutes of our first meeting.”

  “I understand your concerns, Mein Herr, and I assure you I would have preferred more time to ‘break the ice’ before broaching this subject with you, however time is something that we do not have at the moment. My own position with the Diet is nothing more than that of a minor, independent member, however I have been sent to meet you as proxy for Kido Kōichi, Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal himself, and act with his express authority in all matters while you are here with us...”

  “No official post in cabinet…” Ritter explained, noting Reuters’ faintly quizzical expression as the older man leaned across toward him, ear tilted to listen. “Very important however, Kido controls who has access to the emperor… at least as important as the Prime Minister under the current regime. All of this was in the brief I prepared…” he added, exasperation seeping faintly into his tone.

  “And if I’d read all that, what would be the purpose of asking you along?” Reuters shot back quickly under his breath, stifling a smug grin as he nodded sagely at Ritter’s explanation.

  “This is a dangerous time for The Empire, Mein Herr,” Miyagi explained further as Ritter rolled his eyes, having awaited the end of their minor discussion. “There are some – the Prime Minister, the Army and some sections of the Navy for example – who believe that war with the Pacific and South-East Asia is inevitable… desirable… and that steps should therefore be taken to ensure victory no matter what the cost or consequences. Those factions in our government and military dealing with Direktor Hegel were part of this cabal.” He grimaced as he considered the situation. “There are others however, Lord Kido and some less influential members of the Diet, who fear that war with the United States will result in nothing but the destruction of our Empire and of everything we hold sacred… a fear I believe that you hold also, if our intelligence reports are to believed.”

  “I do not fear the American military,” Reuters conceded, considering his answer carefully, “however I do fear their factories. You mentioned those factions dealing with the late Wilhelm Hegel?” He asked coldly, the revelation that the man was dead surprising Miyagi once more. “Do you know of any other information that traitor may have passed on?”

  “We know of Neue Adler, if that is what you mean,” came the reply that chilled the hearts of all three Germans present. “My Lord has been unable to glean any detail as to what has been discussed between Hegel and our side, but we have at least heard some quite fantastical stories as to the true origins of some of Germany’s more important military and industrial figures… yourself included.”

  “It is all true…” Reuters confirmed without another thought, his instincts telling him he could trust the man. “And I can also confirm from personal knowledge that any war with the United States is certain to end in disaster for Japan and the complete destruction of The Empire.”

  “This is why Tōjō wants these devices… these bombs Hegel promised…” Miyagi confided, disgust in his tone as he described the weapons. “He thinks he can scare the Americans with threats of devastation.”

  “If he uses those weapons against the United States thinking he will frighten them away, he is seriously mistaken,” Schiller chimed in from the opposite side of Reuters, thinking about the 21st Century attacks of 9/11 against New York and Washington. “Any attack on their soil will only fill them with greater resolve. In my history, in the aftermath of the first surprise attack upon Pearl Harbor, an American Admiral by the name of Halsey remarked of your people: ‘Before we're through with them, the Japanese language will be spoken only in hell…’ That is the level of hatred your nation inspired in the past that I knew.” Both Schiller and Reuters clearly noted the sudden change in pallor as Miyagi turned almost green at the mention of a surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, filling neither man with any pleasant feelings.

  “Th – There are events that we cannot stop now,” Miyagi stammered, almost sounding ashamed as he carefully skirted around the subject and nearly managed to not mention the proverbial ‘elephant in the car’. “Events I do not have a schedule for, but that we are certain will come soon. My Lord and his associates would hope, however, to do everything possible not to make matters worse than they may already be. Lord Kido believes that if these weapons are as terrifyingly powerful as we have been led to believe, no good can come from their use… that such wanton destruction would anger our ancestors and bring only shame and failure upon anyone who dared to make use of such force against the innocent.”

  “Fine words,” Reuters observed pointedly, “but only words all the same, unless suitable action is taken to back them up. Are you saying that you have knowledge of the whereabouts of Kormoran?”

  “We do not have that information at the moment,” Miyagi admitted reluctantly, “however our intelligence believes that you may have some knowledge. Several coded transmissions were intercepted two weeks ago between one of your U-boats and their base at Cam Ranh Bay. We have been able to decode enough of those messages to infer that the captain has located the Kormoran and believes the ship was making for the Timor Sea, with the intention of then turning north for Japan. I can tell you that its intended destination is Palau, and that if your U-boat captain was correct in his deductions, Kormoran should currently be somewhere in the Banda Sea or surrounding area, indeed heading north through the Moluccas for Palau.

  “We know where the ship is going, Meine Herren,” he added, having paused slightly for effect, “and I can make sure that you are all right there when it arrives.

  “We must think on this in private,” Reuters declared sharply, his eyes narrowing, “I do not think that I should trust you, Mein Herr, but the fact remains that we need someone to trust here or we may never accomplish this task.”

  “Perhaps the next piece on information I have to give you will go some way to proving where my loyalties lie,” Miyagi ventured, and again he went slightly pale for a moment as he worked up the courage to continue. “There is something else you should know. We know that two devices were loaded aboard Kormoran before she left Kiel in September. Do you know that the ship now has only one device aboard?”

  “What are you talking about?” The Reichsmarschall demanded, his face showing the horror that he suddenly felt in his heart. “What does this mean?” A short pause then, far more accusingly: “What have you done…?”

  As Miyagi went on to explain, the feelings of terror that were already washing over all three men – Schiller and Reuters particularly – found a sharp and quite powerful focus.

  Mama…! Mama, where’s papa…? I want papa…?

  “Mein Gott…!” Reuters breathed, almost unable to believe what he’d just heard and fighting to ignore the silent voice that suddenly burst to life inside his head. “Mein Gott, this is insane! When…? Where…?”

  “Last reports are that the vessel docked in Mexico three weeks ago…”

  “Scheisse, it may already be too late!” Reuters snarled impotently. “We need a secure connection to the Embassy as soon as we get to our quarters… a secure line, mark you!”

  “I already have something organised,” Miyagi assured. “I anticipated your reaction.”

  “God help all of us if we’re too late!” Schiller breathed softly, shaking his head at the audacity of it all. “These lunatics may have ruined all of us…!”

  “For all our sakes, I hope we st
ill have time,” the Reichsmarschall hissed darkly, fixing Miyagi with a vicious glare. “Trust me when I say that if just one of these devices is used against the Americans or the Commonwealth, their vengeance will be like nothing this world has ever seen.

  South China Sea

  East of Singapore

  The aircraft carrier Indomitable lay off to port a mile away, steaming straight into the gusting easterly breeze as a pair of Sea Furies lifted from the deck, climbing away and turning north. The sun was high in a clear sky, the humidity oppressive as the day headed into afternoon with no sign of respite from the heat. As Thorne stood for a moment at the open porthole, seeking any kind of breeze for momentary relief, he could see the carrier and a number of other warships clustered about as Force G forged on into the South China Sea at a steady fifteen knots.

  That morning’s aerial reconnaissance flights had produced reports of Japanese battleships of Cape Cà Mau, the southernmost tip of Indochina, possibly accompanied by at least one carrier. Just two hundred miles north-east of the Malayan coast, that placed them uncomfortably close to Commonwealth territory and had elicited the response of Force G putting to sea to observe and, if necessary, interdict.

  Thorne was happy that their Task Force had a carrier of their own present, along with further support just minutes away, flying out of airfields at Kota Bharu, but he nevertheless couldn’t shake the uncanny fear of being aboard a vessel he knew full well had been sunk not far from their current position during the Realtime course of the Second World War. He knew about the unusual effect the Germans had come to call Synchronicity, and also knew that it was completely random, resulting in some Realtime events occurring exactly as they originally had, some occurring at different dates and times for the same reason, others at the same time and date for different reasons and, in some cases, nothing at all happening as it had in Realtime.

  It was that total randomness that made the situation so frustratingly unsettling. Unlike the Realtime composition of Force G, this time there was a carrier in attendance with copious land-based air support also; yet the fact remained that despite the battlegroup being extremely well protected, it was still no guarantee whatsoever that they were at all safe.

  So… you don’t know what’s going to happen... the voice in his head pointed out, the hint of sarcasm present as usual. Just like everyone else… right…?

  “You know that’s not helping, right…?” Thorne muttered in reply, shaking his head and grinning in spite of himself as he stepped away from the window and returned to a seat on his bunk. “Why don’t you make yourself useful instead… like ‘magicking’ me up a cold bloody drink or something?”

  In my reality, I’m having one already... It shot back gleefully. Ice cold schooner of VB… frost is still forming on the outside of the glass…

  “Arsehole,” he growled, feeing an incredible craving for a cold beer now as that image flared in his mind. “You can take that beer and – !”

  His train of thought was interrupted as he heard the ring of footsteps in the hallway beyond his open door; footsteps that came to a halt outside and were revealed to belong to Lieutenant Phillip Mountbatten: a young officer Thorne knew of as the man who would one day become the Duke of Edinburgh.

  “Air vice-marshal,” Mountbatten acknowledged, coming to stiff attention and giving a picture-perfect salute.

  “Lieutenant,” Thorne grinned in return, casually returning the salute but making no effort to stand up. “Come on in… the water’s fine…”

  “Ahh… thank you, sir,” he nodded eventually, having considered the reply, considered Thorne’s well-known reputation and decided he wasn’t likely to understand the remark. He was forced to stoop quite low to enter the room, such was his noticeable height.

  “Take a seat, Lieutenant…” Thorne advised lightly, indicating the chair and table on the other side of the narrow room with one hand. “I’m worried the light fittings might not survive if you don’t sit down.”

  “Yes… yes, of course, sir…” Mountbatten agreed nervously, and Thorne realised for the first time that he wasn’t talking only with a man who’d later marry the Queen of England and become a prince… he was also speaking to a young and relatively inexperienced naval lieutenant currently in the presence of a quite high-ranking, uniformed air force officer.

  “Sorry, lieutenant… I forget where I am sometimes,” he apologised honestly, trying to place the man a little more at ease. “Please relax… I won’t bite… what can I do you for?”

  “Well, sir, I came to pass on a message from Lord Mountbatten, and I also wanted to thank you personally for delivering that letter,” The young man explained, finally managing a smile of his own. “It’s been difficult, with mail services being what they are, and it was wonderful to finally hear some news… something a little more personal than a blasted newsreel, at least.”

  “I do believe you’ve got a ‘keeper’ there,” Thorne joked with a wry smile, thinking that possibly the understatement of at least the century, if not two. “The Princess is very much in love with you…” he went on to explain as Mountbatten frowned at the unfamiliar expression.

  “And I with the Princess, sir,” he replied with a serious expression. “Please tell me: is she well? How goes it in Melbourne… I’ve not had the opportunity to get down there since all this started and Britain fell… it’s been… difficult…”

  “She’s well enough,” Thorne answered after a moment’s thought, giving the question the consideration it deserved. “Your uncle’s told you where I come from… originally…?”

  “Err, yes, sir, although it all sounds a little far-fetched.”

  “To me too, lieutenant, and I’ve lived through it,” Thorne grinned. “Look, all this ‘lieutenant-this’, ‘lieutenant-that’ business is giving me the shits, to be honest: would you mind if I just start calling you ‘Phillip’ instead?”

  “Of – of course, sir,” Mountbatten replied after a moment of hesitation.

  “That would mean you have to call me Max as well…” Thorne pointed out slyly, “but I’ll let you off for the moment if you’re not up for it. With regard to your earlier question, Phil,” he continued, immediately shortening the man’s given name to a diminutive he’d not asked permission to use, “I suspect it would take an awful lot to make the Princess not well. Where I come from, she’s reigned as monarch for almost sixty years with no sign of slowing down any time soon… and no, I’m not going to tell you what happens in the future between you and Her Royal Highness,” he added with a snort of laughter, easily spotting the unasked question in the man’s eyes, “so don’t bloody ask me! It wouldn’t be fair: you two can bloody work that out for yourselves!”

  “Of course, sir,” Mountbatten conceded with a gracious smile of his own, somehow reassured by the way Thorne had made that last remark, as if there most certainly was a future to not ask about.

  “I wish I could say the same thing about her father, though,” Thorne added, sounding a little sad now. “There is a great man who’s been brought savagely low by this bloody war.”

  “Yes, Elizabeth mentioned he’d not been well.”

  “I hate to say it, Phil, but he’s not got too many years left, and you don’t need a knowledge of the future to know that. Just one look at him would be enough. Poor bugger wasn’t supposed to be king in the first place, and losing Britain as well as his brother has taken its toll. He smokes too bloody much, and after all the advice he gets for everything else, that’s the one thing he won’t listen to reason about. It’s an awful thing, but I suspect you could be marrying a queen in a few years rather than a princess…”

  Way to not give anything away, kemo sabe …

  “Meh…” Thorne muttered under his breath with a shrug as the lieutenant’s face betrayed the conflict he felt over the combination of the dire news regarding the King’s health and the none-to-subtle hint that he would indeed marry Princess Elizabeth at some time in the future.

  “It’s been impo
ssible to get leave at the moment,” Phillip said sadly, shaking his head. “The situation here is such that we need every single ship we have to keep an eye on both the Japanese and the bloody Germans.”

  “I’ll admit, it’s a bit different from what I know,” Thorne conceded with a sympathetic nod. “In my history books, the Japanese occupied French Indochina, rather than leaving it as an entity unto itself under the control of the Vichy Government, nor did we have the issue of the Kriegsmarine using Madagascar as a staging point either. From what I can gather, the Luftwaffe hasn’t been much of a threat so far, but the U-boats and bloody surface raiders operating out of Cam Ranh Bay have been a royal pain in the arse. We should have bombed the shit out of the place right at the start, but no one’s been game in case some bloody Jap ‘advisor’ on site breaks a fingernail or something, and we end up dragging them into the war…” He snorted his derision over that fear. “As if that’s not going to happen anyway…” He grimaced as another thought occurred to him. “And now we need to find this bloody Kormoran before the bloody Krauts hand over a couple of atom bombs and fuck it up for everyone!”

  “Speaking of Kormoran,” Phillip began, choosing to tactfully ignore the man’s slip into profanity, “that was the message I was tasked to bring you, sir…” He paused for a breath before continuing. “I came over from Wallace originally for a briefing, but I had an hour or two to kill and Lord Mountbatten asked me to pop down and let you know what was happening. We’ve received a report from Darwin that some Coastwatchers in South-East Celebes have sighted a vessel they believe may be Kormoran, heading north into the Banda Sea exactly as we suspected.”

  “Well, that’s gotta be good news,” Thorne nodded, smiling. “How long to intercept…?”

  “They’re thinking sometime later this afternoon if all goes well. The task force has apparently been spread out across the entire area, but we’ve got a light cruiser close enough to overhaul her in the next three or four hours if all goes well… they have flying boats shadowing with radar to ensure she doesn’t slip away.”