Storm Front

Chapter Five

American Embassy, Berlin

19 July 1985

“Well,” Ambassador Samuel Turtledove said. “Thoughts?”

Andrew allowed himself a smile. Ambassador Turtledove had no time for the persistent rivalry between the Office of Strategic Services, the Central Intelligence Agency and the Defence Intelligence Agency, to say nothing of the military itself. They were, after all, right in the heart of Berlin, in the first building that would fall if war ever broke out between the North Atlantic Alliance and the Third Reich. There was literally no time for inter-service rivalry or disagreements. Everyone in the room was cleared to hear everything up to TOP SECRET and beyond.

“It was an impressive show,” he said, as he accepted a cup of coffee from the Ambassador’s aide. “I counted over thirty long-range heavy bombers in a single fly-past. They certainly look as though they can reach New York.”

“Assuming they don’t get bounced halfway there,” General William Knox pointed out. The military attaché frowned down at the photographs the observers had taken during the parade and placed on the table. “We still have fighter bases up and down the east coast, despite the best efforts of Congress. The Brits have their fighters too.”

“One would assume the Brits would have other things to worry about, if war broke out,” Andrew said, mildly. “But I tend to agree. The long-range bomber isn’t a major threat unless they build them in far greater numbers.”

“Which leads to the obvious question,” the Ambassador said. “Can they build them in far greater numbers?”

Andrew looked at Penelope Jameson, who shrugged. “The German economy is a mess, Mr. Ambassador,” she said. The CIA had attached her to the Berlin Office as an expert in economics and charged her with gauging the strength of the German economy. It wasn’t a task Andrew envied her. “I honestly think that most Germans are unaware of just how badly their economy is performing, certainly when compared to ours. Funding a few hundred long-range bombers would be very difficult right now.”

“Particularly as they would be of limited value in South Africa,” Knox said.

“Perhaps not,” Andrew said. “They can fly well above the Stinger-A’s range, can’t they?”

He smiled as Knox – and Robert Hamilton – grimaced in unison. The OSS had been pressing the President to send Stinger-B and Stinger-C missiles to the South Africans, even though there was a very real risk that one or more units would fall into German hands and be reverse-engineered. He understood their concerns, but there was a very real opportunity to bleed the Germans white using the missiles. Shooting down a handful of heavy bombers would hurt the Reich more than killing a few hundred soldiers on deployment.

And if war does break out, he thought, there will be fewer bombers to make their way to New York.

“They’re not exactly equipped for tactical support,” Knox said, after a moment. “Their smart weapons are considerably inferior to our own.”

“We think,” Andrew reminded him. “The gauchos probably didn’t know how to use their weapons to best advantage.”

“They would have set up a display and shown off their merchandise if they could,” Penelope said, quietly. “Their economy took a hit when the Falklands War went so badly for the side using German weapons.”

“Serve them right,” the Ambassador said. He cleared his throat. “Was there anything new in the parade, any potential game changers?”

“Probably not,” Andrew said. “The latest tank design was a modified Panther VII, their main battle tank. I don’t think we have to worry about a revolutionary new tank appearing on the battlefields in a few years.”

“They also modified a handful of older Panzer XIs,” Hamilton added. “It’s hard to be sure, but it looks like they took off the main guns and added several machine guns to the vehicles.”

“Probably for counter-insurgency work,” Knox grunted. He picked up one of the photographs and held it out. “We know they’ve been taking losses in South Africa, Mr. Ambassador. My best guess is that they’re adapting their weapons and armour to cope with the threat.”

Which isn’t likely to go away anytime soon, Andrew thought. The blacks know they have to fight and perhaps die, rather than doing nothing and certainly dying.

He shuddered at the thought. The Reich’s population might be blissfully unaware of what had been done in their name, but everyone else knew all too well what Adolf Hitler had unleashed upon the world. He wouldn’t have bet a rusty dollar that the blacks would survive for long, if the Nazis claimed the country. They’d be herded into concentration camps and brutally murdered. Indeed, there were factions in South Africa that would happily support such a final solution, heedless of the possibility that the Nazis would shove them into the gas chambers next.

The Ambassador cleared his throat. “Do you feel it’s likely they will double down in South Africa?”

Andrew hesitated. “They made a mistake getting involved,” he said. “We know that – and I suspect they know it too, now. But I think their leadership will be reluctant to retreat from their positions in South Africa. They’d see it as an admission of weakness.”

He looked up at the map. The Reich bestrode the continent like a colossus, bright red ink soaking the land from Dunkirk to Kamchatka. And yet, their control over their vast domains was tenuous, in places. The settlements in Germany East were plagued by partisans, the Vichy French were restless and even their allies were looking for alternatives. Andrew was sure that Turkey, at least, would jump ship if there was a reasonable chance of getting away with it, while Italy and Spain wouldn’t be far behind. Binding their economies to Germany had been a deadly mistake.

“Economically, they must be reaching their limits,” Penelope said. “All my models suggest Germany will have to make major cutbacks within the next five years.”

“Your models may not take reality into account,” Knox pointed out. He’d never liked Penelope, although Andrew had never figured out why. “Surely they know how to fine-tune their own economy.”

“An economy is not a military unit, sir,” Penelope said. “Nor is it a piece of balky machinery that can be fixed. Fine-tuning an economy is simply impossible and trying to control it leads to disaster. The communists discovered that in 1942.”

She took a breath. “My models are, if anything, optimistic,” she added. “I gave the Germans every advantage I could think of, sir; I assumed a level of central understanding and control that, quite frankly, is beyond the realm of possibility. And yet, all of my models indicate a major collapse in less than five years unless something changes.”

Andrew frowned. “They could be spoofing your results.”

“They could,” Penelope agreed. “We have always had problems gauging the true power of the German economy. However, if it was as good as they claimed, they’d have a much larger moon base and a few hundred additional spacecraft to stake their claims to the asteroids.”

“True,” Andrew agreed.

“It’s also beside the point,” Knox said. “Is the likelihood of war any stronger than it was two years ago?”

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t like her, Andrew thought. He understands the machines and tactics of war, but not economics.

“The last set of discussions I had with the Foreign Minister were unenlightening,” the Ambassador said, calmly. “He lodged an official complaint about our meddling in South Africa, I lodged a complaint of my own about German weapons shipments to radical factions in Latin and South America. We had a long argument that boiled down to mutual denials that anything was actually happening.”

“And so anyone on the ground will vanish, if they get caught,” Andrew said.

“We do it too,” Hamilton reminded him. “Any German advisor caught in Panama goes straight into a black prison for interrogation, not held for trade.”

Andrew nodded, ruefully. The threat of mutual destruction – Germany and the United States each had over 10,000 nuclear warheads – had made it impossible for either side to risk seeking a final war to decide the fate of the planet. Instead, Germany had started running weapons and supplies to radical groups in Latin America, while America had supplied Russian, French and South African insurgents with weapons of their own. But German brutality made it impossible for them to end the war on anything other than total victory, while the United States could use a combination of hard and soft power to convince the undecided to support the Americans. Mexico was more peaceful than it had been in years; Panama, the scene of a brutal insurgency, was calming down…

But the Germans can’t afford to treat anyone as equals, he thought, darkly. They have to exterminate their enemies to win, which makes it impossible for their enemies to surrender.

Knox looked at Penelope, sharply. “What happens if the German economy does collapse?”

“It’s hard to be sure,” Penelope said. “I think we’d be looking at something akin to the Great Depression, but probably a great deal worse. The German economy is more integrated than ours was in the thirties.”

“And then they will go to war,” Knox said, grimly. “Hitler saw war as the solution to Germany’s woes. War will distract their people from their empty bellies.”

“They’d have to be out of their minds,” Hamilton said. “We have the AMERICA SHIELD, do we not?”

“The system isn’t perfect,” Knox reminded him. “If the Germans throw every last one of their missiles at us in a single volley, will the shield stop them all?”

“We’d certainly have a better chance of survival than they would,” Hamilton snapped. “What the bombs didn’t destroy would be wiped out by their slaves afterwards.”

“And a full-scale nuclear war might well destroy the entire world,” Penelope said. “Nuclear winter will finish off the survivors.”

Andrew shook his head in grim horror. “Perhaps they won’t see it that way,” he said. “They may view mutual destruction as a victory, of sorts.”

The Ambassador held up a hand. “What are their alternatives?”

“Cut their cloak to suit their cloth,” Penelope said. “They’ll have to make massive – and painful – budget cuts.”

“Which they can’t, for political reasons,” Knox commented. “They’re committed to trying to keep up with us.”

Andrew sighed, inwardly. The Germans had been fearsome – and they still were – but they’d also been very good at projecting an illusion that they were stronger than they were. The CIA had yet to recover from taking some of the German claims at face value, back in the sixties, and terrifying Congress into authorising a colossal military build-up. Now, it was the Germans who were struggling to stay in the race…

Assuming we’re correct, he reminded himself. The buggers have got themselves caught in an elephant trap.

“Maybe it would be a good time to propose limits to military spending,” the Ambassador said, calmly. “Let them off as lightly as we can.”

“It was tried, back in the seventies,” Knox said. “We caught them cheating.”

“Back when it looked as though we would lose Mexico,” Hamilton said. “We faced the same dilemma the Germans are facing now. Do they cut their losses and admit defeat or up the ante?”

He shrugged. “Our ability to influence their decision-making process is rather limited.”

“I have to speak to the President,” the Ambassador said. “Do we try to take advantage of their problems or do we commit ourselves to doing nothing?”

“Unless the Germans become more reasonable, we can’t really do much more than we already are,” Andrew said. “We cannot trust them to honour any agreement they make; they cannot take the risk of being backed into a corner… sir, the Reich is hellishly unstable. If it goes down, it could easily go down into war.”

Penelope leaned forward. “We could offer to mediate peace in South Africa.”

“We’d have problems finding a solution everyone involved could live with,” Hamilton said, darkly. “The South Africans themselves will want to remain Top Dog in the manger for the rest of eternity, while the blacks will want – at the very least – self-rule and an end to the apartheid system. And the Nasties will want to exterminate the blacks and probably add South Africa to the Third Reich.

“Remove the German forces and the South Africans will either have to flee the country or be brutally murdered by the blacks. Stop supplying the blacks with weapons and the Germans will probably shove them all into gas chambers – if there are any left alive by the end of the war.”

Andrew shuddered. The South African Government had imposed a complete lockdown on newsmen travelling to South Africa, but a handful of intrepid reporters had made the long journey to the front. They’d sent back horrific stories and pictures, including one of hundreds of villages being firebombed from high overhead and refugees gunned down mercilessly. It had shocked America, particularly the black population. The President might find it politically impossible to stop sending weapons and supplies to the insurgents. He’d be deserted by every black congressmen and senator in the country.

“And if the Germans do abandon South Africa, the chaos will spread to Germany South,” he added. It might not be a bad thing – Germany South was the world’s largest source of uranium – but it would definitely worry the German leadership. “And then it will spread upwards into French and Italian territory.”

“The Germans would be wise to consolidate what they’ve got,” Penelope said, flatly. “If they try to hold on to their entire empire, they’ll likely lose everything.”

“They seem to disagree with you,” Knox said.

“I’d be surprised if they truly understood the problem,” Penelope said, mildly. “I’ve met a great many political and military leaders who refused to even try to understand economics.”

Ouch, Andrew thought, as Knox’s face flushed with anger. A palatable hit.

The Ambassador tapped the table sharply. “I’m due to speak with the President tomorrow,” he said. “Do I advise him, then, to do nothing and just wait for the Reich to fall apart on its own?”

“I suggest you advise him to take some extra precautions, just in case,” Knox advised. “If they’re planning to strike against us, they’re not going to tell their own people until the rockets are in the air. Putting the air and missiles bases on alert might make the difference between survival and destruction.”

“They’d just be committing suicide,” Penelope argued. “It makes no sense.”

She had a point, Andrew knew. The Reich and the NAA didn’t share a border. They might be able to launch an invasion force across the English Channel, but getting the Wehrmacht to Washington DC was a fool’s dream. They’d have to contend with the United States Navy, the United States Air Force, the Royal Navy and the Canadian Navy. Andrew privately doubted the Germans would get halfway across the ocean before every last one of their ships were sunk. The Germans could make America miserable – tracking down Nazi sleeper cells was a persistent headache for the FBI – but they couldn’t invade and occupy territory.

“They may not realise the truth,” Hamilton said. “Or they might not care. Just because they look like us doesn’t mean they think like us.”

Andrew nodded. He’d seen what passed for education in German schools. It was long on physical exercise and quasi-military training, short on teaching boys and girls how to be anything other than interchangeable cogs in a machine. He still shuddered at visiting a school, one day, and watching the children mouth their hatred of non-Aryans. The only good thing about the whole affair was that the pictures they were shown of Jews were so horrifically caricatured that the children wouldn’t recognise a Jew if they saw one.

“See what else you can gather from your sources,” the Ambassador added. “Maybe we can find a way to let them down gently.”

“They’d hate us for making the offer,” Knox said.

“They’re already placing orders for more computers and other advanced electronics,” Hamilton added. He looked at Penelope. “How long can they pay for them?”

“Unknown,” Penelope said. “But the Reich’s stockpile of foreign currency is quite low. I’d advise the sellers to make sure they get cash in advance.”

Knox scowled. “Does that not present a threat to us?”

“Possibly,” Andrew said, before Penelope could say a word. “But you try convincing the corporations that they shouldn’t sell their outdated crap to the Germans.”

The Ambassador finished his coffee and rose. “I’ll see you all after I speak with the President,” he said, checking his watch. It was nearly midnight. “Until then, goodnight.”

Andrew smiled as he departed, followed by Knox. The military attaché would have his own report to write; Andrew, thankfully, could put his off until the following morning, when he’d had a chance to think about what he’d seen. Hamilton finished his own coffee, then headed for the door himself. Andrew watched him go, then looked at Penelope. She looked tired and cross-eyed.

“I plan to go for a walk in a couple of days,” he said. He wasn’t asking for a date, although he knew that some people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. “Do you want to accompany me?”

Penelope hesitated. Andrew understood. No real harm would come to them, they’d been warned when they accepted the posting, but the SS sometimes harassed American visitors to Berlin. It was no great secret that spies were based in the embassy, even though Andrew, Hamilton and Penelope herself had cover stories that should explain their activities. The SS might hope that harassing the Americans would lead them to German traitors.

“It might be fun,” she said, finally. She understood what they’d be really doing, all right. A young couple out on a stroll would attract less attention than a man on his own. “Why not?”