invasion would have to be preceded by a disruption of German communications, detonation of ammunition and fuel dumps, and a general atmosphere of hell on earth. But a quiet hell, with cool flames. I expect the networks of partisans will have a busy night blowing up railroad tracks, and maybe there’s a place in the scheme for the Americans, too. A paratroop assault would sow the kind of discord behind the lines that might keep the Germans running in a dozen directions at the same time.” Michael walked to the fireplace, beside the major, and offered his palms to the heat. “I expect that what you want me to do has a bearing on the invasion. Of course I don’t know where it’ll be, or exactly when, and I don’t want that information. Another thing you must realize is that the Nazi high command certainly suspects an invasion attempt within the next five months. With the Soviets fighting in from the east, the Germans know the time is ripe-at least from the alliance point of view-for an attack from the west.” He rubbed his hands together. “I hope my conclusions aren’t too much off the mark?”
“No sir,” Humes-Talbot admitted. “They hit the bull’s-eye.”
Michael nodded, and Shackleton said, “Do you have somebody spyin’ for you in London?”
“I have my eyes, my ears, and my brain. That’s all I need.”
“Sir?” Humes-Talbot had been standing almost at attention, and now he let his back loosen and took a step forward. “Can we… at least brief you on what the mission involves?”
“You’d be wasting your time and the major’s. As I said, I’m retired.”
“Retired? After one lousy field assignment in North Africa?” Shackleton made an unpleasant noise with his lips. “So you were a hero during the battle for El Alamein, right?” He’d read Gallatin’s service record during his trip from Washington. “You got into a Nazi commander’s HQ and stole deployment maps? Big damned squat! Unless you’ve missed the point, Major, the war’s still going on. And if we don’t get a foothold in Europe in the summer of forty-four, we might find our asses washed out to sea for a long time before we can make another try.”
“Major Shackleton?” Michael turned toward him, and the intensity of his glare made the major think he was peering into the green-tinted windows of a blast furnace. “You won’t mention North Africa again,” he said quietly, but with dangerous meaning. “I… failed a friend.” He blinked; the blast-furnace glare dimmed for a second, then came back full force. “North Africa is a closed subject.”
Damn the man! Shackleton thought. If he could, he’d stomp Gallatin into the floor. “I just meant-”
“I don’t care what you meant.” Michael looked at Humes-Talbot, the captain eager to get on with the briefing, and then Michael sighed and said, “All right. Let’s hear it.”
“Yes, sir. May I?” He paused, about to shrug off his overcoat. Michael motioned for him to go ahead, and as the two officers took off their coats Michael walked to a high-backed black leather chair and sat down facing the flames.
“It’s a security problem, really,” Humes-Talbot said, coming around so he could gauge Major Gallatin’s expression. It was one of profound disinterest. “Of course you’re correct; it does involve the invasion plans. We and the Americans are trying to clean up all the loose ends before the first of June. Getting agents out of France and Holland, for instance, whose security might be compromised. There’s an American agent in Paris-”
“Adam’s his code name,” Shackleton interrupted.
“Paris is no longer a garden of Eden,” Michael said, lacing his fingers together. “Not with all those Nazi serpents crawling around in it.”
“Right,” the major went on, taking the reins. “Anyway, your intelligence boys got a coded message from Adam a little more than two weeks ago. He said there’s something big in the works, something he didn’t
“No sir,” Humes-Talbot admitted. “They hit the bull’s-eye.”
Michael nodded, and Shackleton said, “Do you have somebody spyin’ for you in London?”
“I have my eyes, my ears, and my brain. That’s all I need.”
“Sir?” Humes-Talbot had been standing almost at attention, and now he let his back loosen and took a step forward. “Can we… at least brief you on what the mission involves?”
“You’d be wasting your time and the major’s. As I said, I’m retired.”
“Retired? After one lousy field assignment in North Africa?” Shackleton made an unpleasant noise with his lips. “So you were a hero during the battle for El Alamein, right?” He’d read Gallatin’s service record during his trip from Washington. “You got into a Nazi commander’s HQ and stole deployment maps? Big damned squat! Unless you’ve missed the point, Major, the war’s still going on. And if we don’t get a foothold in Europe in the summer of forty-four, we might find our asses washed out to sea for a long time before we can make another try.”
“Major Shackleton?” Michael turned toward him, and the intensity of his glare made the major think he was peering into the green-tinted windows of a blast furnace. “You won’t mention North Africa again,” he said quietly, but with dangerous meaning. “I… failed a friend.” He blinked; the blast-furnace glare dimmed for a second, then came back full force. “North Africa is a closed subject.”
Damn the man! Shackleton thought. If he could, he’d stomp Gallatin into the floor. “I just meant-”
“I don’t care what you meant.” Michael looked at Humes-Talbot, the captain eager to get on with the briefing, and then Michael sighed and said, “All right. Let’s hear it.”
“Yes, sir. May I?” He paused, about to shrug off his overcoat. Michael motioned for him to go ahead, and as the two officers took off their coats Michael walked to a high-backed black leather chair and sat down facing the flames.
“It’s a security problem, really,” Humes-Talbot said, coming around so he could gauge Major Gallatin’s expression. It was one of profound disinterest. “Of course you’re correct; it does involve the invasion plans. We and the Americans are trying to clean up all the loose ends before the first of June. Getting agents out of France and Holland, for instance, whose security might be compromised. There’s an American agent in Paris-”
“Adam’s his code name,” Shackleton interrupted.
“Paris is no longer a garden of Eden,” Michael said, lacing his fingers together. “Not with all those Nazi serpents crawling around in it.”
“Right,” the major went on, taking the reins. “Anyway, your intelligence boys got a coded message from Adam a little more than two weeks ago. He said there’s something big in the works, something he didn’t
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