"That's the Captain!" one of them shouted.
"I don't care who he is. Put down your weapon. You are under arrest!"
"What the hell have you got us into?" Hotwell whispered.
"Stop right now!" a voice boomed from behind the men.
Everyone turned as Colonel Williams approached.
"What is the meaning of all this?"
"Sir, this man approached and fired upon one of my provosts."
The Colonel looked to Corwin who had already lowered his pistol upon seeing him, despite the weapons still trained on him and Hotwell.
"Asshole didn't accept who I was when I answered his question and then drew down on me. I wasn't going to trust a man as foolish as that to have a gun in my face."
Williams stepped up to the man who was cradling his hand where it was still in pain from the pistol having been wrenched from his grip.
"Is this true?"
"Sir, he was carrying a weapon, acting in a suspicious manner, and did not appear to be what he claimed."
The Colonel glanced at Corwin for a second as if to reprimand him, but turned back and slapped the provost across the face. His palm hit hard, and with enough surprise, that the man stumbled a pace back before getting his balance. Not a single one of them dared question his actions, even though they knew they could in theory.
"You idiot. This is not a boot camp. It isn't the street where you can muscle in because you don't like the way things look. Of course the Captain doesn't look like your typical soldier, because he isn't. In future, you will address him with respect, and think more before you act, understood?"
The man nodded sheepishly.
"Get back to your stations, all of you!"
The group dispersed, leaving only the three officers. Despite coming to their aid, Williams was shaking his head in dismay.
"How on earth can you get yourselves into so much trouble here, and now?"
"I didn't pick a fight. You told us we'd have a safe means of operation here, was that all bullshit?"
"Captain..." Hotwell protested.
"No, no," replied the Colonel, "If the Captain is so eager to get free of this place, then I have just the thing. You wanted to get your hands a little dirtier. Well, be careful what you wish for. We have a mission we'd like you to take on board that will shock you to your very core."
"I doubt it," said Corwin.
"We'll see. Follow me, gentlemen."
The Colonel led them into the building he had come from and past the redcaps Corwin had so recently annoyed. The one who he had injured was being driven off in a jeep still cradling his injured hand. The man looked at Corwin with daggers, but he only glared back until he looked away.
"Pussy," mocked Corwin as he stepped inside.
"You sure know how to make friends, or is this how all you yanks treat strangers?"
"It's a skill."
"I don't doubt that," Hotwell murmured.
The Colonel stopped them dead as they reached a large armoured door. It looked completely out of place with the rest of the building and two armed guards stood outside.
"What you are about to hear is strictly top secret, and I really mean it, you got that, Captain?"
"Just get on with it, Colonel," Corwin replied wearily.
Williams gestured towards the guards. They opened the locks and drew back the heavy steel door. They stepped in and were soon locked inside and followed the corridor until it opened out into a dome shaped room. Eight high-ranking officers sat around a table in the centre. There was only one other door in the room. It was open, but dark so that they could not make out if anyone was inside.
"Take a seat, gentlemen," said Williams.
What on earth have they got in mind for us now?
Corwin took his chance to interject his own thoughts and plans.
"Before anyone starts, I need to say a few words."
He didn't ask for permission nor wait for any of them to respond.
"I am here to tell you that I have one sole purpose in this war, and that is to capture or kill a man called Maximilian Villiers. You may not know that name, but I do. He is at the very core of the Nazi intelligence, technological advancement, and success you have seen this past year. I am here to finish him, and to that end, my team and I will be departing shortly. We operate behind enemy lines for prolonged periods of time. We always have done, and we're good at it. You may not understand the importance of this man or our mission, but you must know it is in the Allies’ best interests that we are supported in this task."
With that, he took a seat and breathed out in relief. It felt good to finally let it out to those at the top. It seemed they had accepted what he had to say, and it brought a smile to his face, but that was soon wiped clean when the Colonel replied.
"We are aware of the potential existence of a man known as Villiers operating within Hitler's inner circle. However, our intelligence indicates that he has little command or responsibility over the workings of the party or the progress of the war."
Fuck!
He slumped a little as he realised they hadn't understood anything he was saying, and let the Colonel continue.
"I am here to tell you, Captain, that no matter what you might think, we have access to far greater intelligence resources than you do. We have a network of spies, surveillance, and intelligence gathering men and machines that are beyond your comprehension. What we need you to understand is, that we need you to trust in us, like you expect us to trust in you."
He waited for Corwin's response.
"I am going forward. My team is going forward. We are going to strike at the heart of the enemy."
"Then why not strike at the man behind it all?" a voice bellowed from the open doorway and the darkness beyond.
Corwin recognised the voice. It was deep and gravel sounding. It resonated around the room that only gave it further authority. It got Corwin's attention, and he turned to see the shape of a man appear in the doorway. Even with the face in the shadows, he could already tell who it was. Winston Churchill himself. In an instant Corwin's approach to the entire situation changed, he now realised how significant the meeting was. Their last meeting had not been at all planned, and entirely of Corwin's making, but not this time.
"Hello again, Captain."
"Sir," he replied.
Churchill stepped into the light to reveal he was wearing a Naval officer’s uniform and carried a large glass of brandy. His cheeks were red, and long shadows under his eyes gave away both his exhaustion and drunkenness, and yet he seemed as composed as many a man could hope to be.
"Do you know why you have been called here? Or even why I have travelled the distance to be here today? God knows it is not a safe land to travel anymore, as you very well know."
Corwin shook his head.
"Because we aren't winning this war, Captain. No matter what our propaganda machine might say otherwise, we are not. Hitler has proven a far more formidable opponent than any man on this earth could have expected he could be. That horrid little Corporal who rants and raves, he stands to be a king of this world. That is unless we stop him, and when I say we, there are less and less of us to stand up to his will and tyranny every day. And so, I am asking you to do something for me, for us all. This is not an order, for whether you would take my orders or not, I could not ask it of you... I want you and your people to undertake the most daring, outrageous, and dangerous of missions anyone could ask."
Corwin could already see where this was going, but he let the Prime Minister go on.
"Hitler holds his people together because of his charisma. I don't see what his people see in it, but they do. They see a god among men, and we must end him. If he were to fall, the Nazis would descend into disarray, and like many great powers before it, they would collapse into bitter infighting. Just as every empire ever has that has revolved around one single man."
“I…” Corwin began, but Churchill interrupted.
“I had to come here today because I
wanted you to understand the severity of the situation, and because I knew you wouldn’t accept this from anyone but me. Do you know how I know that, Captain?”
Corwin shrugged.
“Because you are a maverick, a wild and unpredictable whirlwind. When you set your mind to something you are unstoppable, but pointing you in right direction is the most difficult of tasks.”
“No offence, but if you understand me so well, why all this, you being here and asking me in person, why would you think that would work?”
A few of the men in the room gasped at his insolence, and yet Churchill looked unaffected by it all. He paced up further to the table, and one of the officers leapt up to offer his chair. Churchill sat down with a groan. He leaned back in the chair and took a sip of his brandy. They each stared into one another’s eyes for a few moments, weighing one another up.
“Captain, have you heard of the events that we refer to as the Battle of Britain?”
Corwin shook his head. Two of the officers cackled at his ignorance, and yet Churchill held up a hand to call for silence.
“Early in this war when things looked so dire, just like they do now, we faced invasion on a grand scale. But it wasn’t armies of soldiers and thousands of tanks that saved us. It wasn’t old officers sitting around big tables like this. It was a few brave young pilots. A handful of men we all relied on, and they came through for us. Never has so much been owed by so many to so few. That’s what I said after that time, and it was true.”
“Sorry, Sir, but I just don’t know where you are going with this.”
“What I am saying, Captain, is that we need you to be those few. I need you to do what thousands of troops and aircraft and ships and pieces of paper cannot. I need a few crazy heroes to pull off something miraculous, and I believe you are just the man for the job.”
“I’m listening.”
“I want you to kill Adolf Hitler.”
Corwin began to laugh, but no one else seemed to see the joke, apart from Churchill, who soon joined in with him and raised his glass before knocking back the last of the brandy. Finally, he slammed the glass down, and they both drew to a silence, and Corwin went on.
“You want me to find, and kill, the man you think is the ultimate bad guy in this world? And you think the whole goddamn Nazi empire will fall apart as a result?”
“We do.”
Corwin opened his mouth to speak, but then he stopped when it dawned on him that was exactly the mission they had taken in their own timeline, and which had triggered the events he now lived in. It took him right back to Villiers.
“But what if Hitler isn’t the king you think he is? What if other people are behind the scenes and pulling the strings?”
“Yes, yes, I am told you believe there is something going on, but you have no proof. For whatever Hitler is and is not, he is a figurehead, a man millions follow because of his face and his words. The war might not end with his death, but it may buy us valuable time to gain back some strength. At the rate we are going, the war could be over in months. We can’t win it in months, but give us years, and there may be hope yet.”
“And Villiers? You may not believe in his existence, or his importance. But what if he really is the key to all this?”
Churchill sighed.
“You know, Captain, I give every possibility a consideration, all plausible ones. Your theory about this Villiers man seems plausible, but you have no evidence, and without that, I cannot rightfully commit any resources.”
Corwin began to shake his head and went to speak when Churchill once again got in before him.
“However! You believe this man is close to Hitler?”
“Yes.”
“So close that they would have to be together a fair share of the time.”
“I should imagine.”
“And what leads do you have on how to find this Villiers? Where is he? What country?”
Corwin shrugged.
“If you are right, then we have the best leads you have. We have diverted an awful lot of resources to find Hitler, and if Villiers is that close to him, find one and you will have the other. Two birds, one stone, Captain.”
Corwin could not help but agree with that assessment, but he also knew that operations rarely ever ended up going that smoothly.
“I know you don’t believe what I have to say about Villiers, but you will one day, and he has to be a priority for you.”
Churchill nodded just before looking back and pointing to his glass to ask for a refill.
“Do you want one?” he asked.
“What?”
“A brandy?”
Corwin was silent.
“Do you know how much I have gotten from alcohol?”
Corwin shrugged.
“A lot more than it has ever gotten from me!”
Corwin laughed. “All right, go for it.”
“That’s the spirit,” he replied, as a glass was placed before him and filled with a generous measure. Churchill lifted the glass towards him before taking a sip, and he did the same. It tasted sweet and refined compared to anything he was used to, and yet it went own smoothly and quickly calmed his nerves.
“So you will do it?” Churchill asked.
Corwin looked around the room and weighed up his options. He didn’t want to accept but knew it was the closest he would ever get to have the support he needed to go after Villiers.
“I will.”
CHAPTER 6
"Let me get this straight," Porter said, "You went out there to tell 'em we are doing whatever the fuck we want, and you've come back having accepted another mission?"
"It's not that simple, and you know it," Beyett replied in support of the Captain.
"Fuck me," Porter shouted, and the room fell silent.
"That's about the sum of it, yep. Don't like it, don't come," replied Corwin.
"Okay, so they want us to find and kill the big man himself?"
"Yep, Vi."
"And do they have any idea on where he is?"
"Not much."
"So they want us to do all the work?" Nylund asked.
"The Allies never were able to find Hitler, never able to get close enough. In this timeline things are worse. We are the only ones that can make a difference this time around. We are the only thing that is different," said Beyett.
"Wait, timeline? What are you talking about?" Travers asked.
Beyett paused, realising their latest recruits knew nothing of their origins. Hotwell stepped forward to try and help.
"You're new to this team, and there will plenty for you to learn as time goes by."
"If they live long enough," Porter muttered quietly in the background, but Hotwell went on anyway.
"What you may hear, or even see with your own eyes, might shock you. It may surprise you, but in time you will believe some things you never thought possible."
Travers pointed to Corwin.
"I saw that man leap from a moving vehicle and cover a distance no human being could hope to achieve, not under the most perfect of scenarios. What I saw you do I would already call impossible."
"And that is only a taste of what is to come," added Hotwell.
"I do hope so. Because however amazing you might be, you think we few in this room can both find and kill Adolf Hitler? Who would be insane enough to issue those orders, let alone accept them?"
Corwin stepped forward, appreciative of Hotwell's aid, and for him to take a seat so he could go on.
"All you need to know right now is that we have a mission to do. It is top secret and will not be discussed with anyone outside of this room unless I say so. Gentlemen, you have just joined a unit the likes of which you could never have envisaged. What will follow will be a whirlwind that you can pray you will survive, but only your skills, your efforts, and your luck will see you through. Do you have any questions?"
"Yes, what do you actually want from us?" asked Travers.
"My team are exceptional fighters, more so tha
n anyone you would ever have met in your lives. But we only have so many hands and can only do so much. What we lack is support. We require drivers, pilots, navigators, and gunners, a whole support team that can back us up in combat. We already have Captain Hotwell here who handles organisation, and a team working around the clock on intelligence gathering and interpreting. The seven of you are precisely what we need for this back up in the field, if you feel up to the task?"
"We already said yes, and we won't go back on that, so long as you fight the good fight...against Hitler."
"Yeah, well he ain't the only problem, but clearly he is now our focus. I don't care what combat experience you do or don't have. Each one of you was there when we needed you and has already proved yourselves in my eyes. So what do you say, will you take us forward on a mission to kill Adolf Hitler?"
He could see they were a little stunned, and when he said it aloud it did sound outrageous.
"When do we leave?"
Corwin smiled at Travers. "That's the spirit."
* * *
Corwin sat in the NAAFI bar with a beer in hand. He appeared utterly calm and without a care in the world, and yet plenty was going through his mind as he stared into the far wall and sipped his drink without even looking at it.
"So you think it can be done?"
He didn't even seem to notice Vi.
"Corwin?" she added as she nudged him.
He snapped out of it and seemed a little surprised to even see her there with him.
"What?" he asked abruptly.
She shook her head and pointed to the barman. "Beer!" she bellowed.
He did not hesitate to grab a glass and start pouring for her.
"I asked if you think it can be done? This little undertaking of ours."
Corwin opened his mouth to speak but stopped on noticing how many ears were listening, and then he realised Vi was for once being subtle.
"Why the hell not? Not like we ever shied away from a job because it was gonna be a little tough?"
She laughed, but it was half hearted.
"A little tough? That what you think this is? All just a game?"
Time War: Onslaught Page 9
