Weapons of choice

"Yes, Prime Minister," said MacArthur, "it's a warship. Sticking out of a mountain, thousands of feet above sea level."

Curtin handed the slate to Robertson. It felt dense, but light. The casing was made of something that gave under the fingers, like rubber. The PM's adviser was careful to avoid touching any of the buttons arrayed across the bottom of the case. Holding it gently by the sides, he saw a photograph of what looked like a destroyer or a frigate, with her stern buried in the ground. A few tents were clustered around the base of the vessel, and he could make out human figures here and there.

"The men in the photograph are Japs," said MacArthur. "They found her first and they've been working on her for nearly a week as best we can tell. The patrol report says they appear to be salvaging what they can."

"Good God," said Curtin. "So they've got access to this sort of machinery, too."

"I'm afraid so," MacArthur answered. "That why Judge and the others returned to Pearl. And that's why it's imperative we strike as quickly as possible. Kolhammer's people are going to attack this ship in the next hour or so. But we have to assume the horse has bolted."

"Could they have found any more of these ships?" asked Robertson.

MacArthur didn't answer immediately, giving the question some thought. Sleet blew against the windows and a minor gale howled outside, whipping through the branches of the eucalyptus trees, and stripping long ribbons of wet bark from their trunks.

"Judge tells me they're missing a number of ships. The scientific vessel, which they suspect to be the cause of their arrival here, was almost certainly destroyed in the process. So they doubt they're ever going home. An American warship seems to have foundered in the polar waters to our south. One British and one French vessel apiece are unaccounted for. And there are doubts now about the location of another small frigate from a country called Indonesia. It grew out of the Dutch colony in the East Indies. That's their boat on the mountain."

Curtin visibly blanched.

"So these things could be anywhere. Under anyone's control."

MacArthur took the suggestion somberly. To Robertson, he looked like a man considering an important move in a game of chess. The day was growing even darker outside, and Curtin turned on a green-shaded desk lamp to give them some more light.

The American rubbed at his West Point ring as he spoke.

"It's possible," he conceded. "Judge was less concerned about the British and French vessels than the Indonesian one. He said those ships could look after themselves. But he said that the Indonesian ship, the Sutanto, didn't have, uhm, Combat Intelligence, I believe he called it. It's like a machine that can fight the enemy even when the crew is incapacitated. So the Japs could conceivably capture them. On the other hand, the Indonesian boats are much less capable."

There was something profoundly disturbing in that line of argument. It sounded to Robertson like a sales pitch.

"But surely the danger of the Japanese getting their hands on these ships lies as much in the knowledge they contain," he said.

Holding up the data slate, he went on.

"I understand these machines are a bit like having a whole university at your fingertips. What's to stop them or the Germans from learning how to build superweapons like the ones that destroyed the American fleet at Midway? Granted they couldn't leap right into the next century. But they could give their scientists and manufacturers a hell of a boost."

Prime Minister Curtin slowly rubbed his face with both hands. He was a picture of despair. MacArthur took in the questions without visible anguish, but neither did he exhibit any of his usual confidence.

In the end he could only shrug.

"We have to strike first."

LONDON, 2301 HOURS, 10 JUNE 1942

The dispatch from Her Majesty's man in Hawaii arrived at Admiral Sir Dudley Pound's club late in the evening. The first sea lord received the long typewritten note from his man in Pearl Harbor, Rear Admiral Sir Leslie Murray, just before midnight. Pound had suffered from quite terrible headaches for some time, and an absolute blinder was keeping him awake when the Royal Navy courier arrived with a brown leather briefcase handcuffed to his wrist.