Designated Targets

The Nemesis battlespace arrays of her ship gave the British high command virtually total awareness of the tactical situation in the local theater. The Luftwaffe could not launch raids of any size on the nation’s capital—or anywhere else in the southern half of the United Kingdom, for that matter—without the Allies knowing of it almost immediately. Admiral Raeder could not put his relatively weak naval forces to sea to protect any invasion fleet while he faced certain destruction at her hands.

The Germans knew that the Trident was the linchpin of England’s defense, and they had spent enormous amounts of blood and treasure trying to take her out. The Allies, on the other hand, could not afford to lose her, which was why she had never sortied to directly engage the German capital ships, and why so many fighters that should have been protecting British airfields against bombing raids were instead assigned to covering her arse.

If the Trident appeared in hostile waters, Göring would probably send his entire air force against her. But if she remained here and Poulsson and Atkins were right about the atomic plant, the question of the Trident’s survival would become moot anyway.

Halabi shrugged and looked at Churchill. “I don’t know if we can do it sir. But we can give it a damn good shake.”

Churchill nodded. “England expects that every man, and woman, will do their best.”

As the two SOE agents left, the PM asked Halabi and Harry to stay for a moment. The attendant who had shown her in appeared with a trolley that rattled with a collection of teapots and china cups. The prime minister shooed him away, offering to pour the tea himself.

“White and one sugar,” said Halabi as the attendant fled.

“Black, with a squeeze of lemon,” Harry added.

When the doors had closed and they were left alone, Churchill bade them sit in the nearest armchairs.

He produced a cigar from his waistcoat and lit up without bothering to ask whether they would mind. Harry seemed to find it amusing, but it annoyed Halabi, though she held her tongue. Everyone in this era seemed to live in a dense cloud of carcinogenic smoke, and it was one of the things she found hardest to accept. They thought you mad if you asked them not to smoke in your presence, or even to avoid blowing their smoke in your face.

She put her aggravation aside as best she could.

“I have not had a chance to thank you both for the work you have put in here,” Churchill said without preamble. He held his hand up when Halabi made to protest. “No, Captain. I am the prime minister, and that means you have to sit and listen, whether you want to or not. I imagine the rules are not much different from your day.”

The two officers admitted that they were not.

“I know you wished very much to keep your Task Force together, and I can understand that, politically as well as militarily,” the PM continued. “This is a very hostile world you have found yourselves in. And I don’t refer only to Herr Hitler and his little friends in the East. I understand that you, in particular, Halabi, have not had the sort of welcome in Portsmouth that might be thought of as appropriate for a returning Royal Navy captain. Young Harry here has excellent family connections to smooth his way. You, on the other hand, do not.”

“My crew are my family, Prime Minister, and we’re in this together.”

“Stuff and nonsense,” he barked. “Sir Leslie Murray speaks very highly of your crew and the way you handle them. After being one of your fiercest critics, I might add. But you cannot spend the rest of your life on the Trident, Halabi.”

He must have seen the panic that registered on her face.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he hurried to add. “I’m not going to attempt to hijack your ship. God knows there are more than enough rum-sodden fools at the Admiralty who are dedicated to that goal. Rest assured, as long as I am prime minister, that will not come to pass.

“Your work with the Ministry, on the modernization programs, has been exemplary. I only hope Providence will bless us with a chance to see some of your projects come to fruition. However,” he admitted, dunking a shortbread biscuit into his tea, “you are of greatest value to the realm on the bridge of your vessel.”

Halabi found herself unable to reply. Her throat had locked up with emotion. After leaving home, and the dark presence of her father, she had very deliberately constructed a new life and family for herself within the embrace of the senior service, consciously drawing on the heritage of her adopted clan to gather the strength and purpose she’d always felt was missing as the abused daughter of a faithless drunkard.

Standing in front of her country’s greatest statesman, however, she felt her legs shaking with uncharacteristic gratitude for the compliment he had just paid her.

“Why, thank you, Prime Minister,” she said when she had regained a measure of control. “That means a lot to me.”