The 34th Degree

111

In the operations building at the Blida air base, Captain Jack MacDonald reported to the intelligence room, as ordered. There he found Colonel Ellery Huntington, the senior OSS officer in Algiers, waiting for him.

MacDonald smiled and said, “To what do I owe this pleasure, Colonel?”

“Where the hell have you been, MacDonald?” Huntington replied, dispensing with the pleasantries. “We’ve been looking for you all afternoon.”

“I’m a creature of the night, Colonel,” MacDonald explained cheerfully. “I didn’t think you boys cared what I did during the day so long as I showed up to work.”

Huntington grudgingly agreed. “Yes, well, the prime minister wanted me to congratulate you on your string of successful missions, Captain. He also wanted you to perform one more special job for him.”

“Another SOE or OSS job, I suppose?” MacDonald muttered. “What’s the matter? Do the Swiss need more chocolates dropped on their villages? Perhaps the Greeks need more brandy? I hear there’s a shortage of tarts for our men in France. What is it about this time?”

“Oh, about two tons of TNT.”

MacDonald’s eyes widened as Huntington spread out the map of the Achillion on the table, pointing out the palace, the cove, and the bunkers halfway up the hill between them.

MacDonald couldn’t hide his delight. “The real thing!” he exclaimed. “It’s about bloody time.”

“I must warn you,” Huntington cautioned, “the OSS Air Operations Section has determined this mission is impossible, considering the terrain of the target area and the strength of the enemy air defenses if you’re detected.”

“Nonsense, sir,” he boasted. “Nothing’s impossible for Jack MacDonald. When do we go in?”

“You’ll strike at dawn.”

“Dawn?” MacDonald glanced at his watch. It was already 2300 hours. “In a bit of a hurry, are we, Colonel?”

“You could say that.” Huntington used a pointer to trace the flight route. “For most of the journey, you’ll be in the dark; but as you approach the island of Corfu, day will be breaking, and you should see the fortifications of the Italian garrison in Corfu Town.”

MacDonald noted the reference points to look for in his approach and nodded.

“You’ll have to come in under the Italian radar net to avoid detection, you realize,” Huntington went on. “That means one pass to surprise them before you and your planes are vulnerable to antiaircraft guns.”

“One pass is all we’ll need,” MacDonald assured him. “Just make sure the British Air Ministry has canceled any RAF missions that might interfere with our air strike.”

“Done,” Huntington said, and glanced at his watch. “With an estimated flight time of five and a half hours, that means you should be up in the air just after midnight. I suggest you assemble your men now.”

MacDonald looked at Huntington with a gleam in his eye. “That won’t be a problem, Colonel. Not when I tell them we finally get to bomb the Krauts.”