CHAPTER TWO
The headquarters of one of one of MI-5's best operatives was in a rather non-descript little flat in a rather old building in London. They had chosen this, rather than at the War Office, believing that the Cockney population around would hide its true intentions.
As you climbed up the stairs, you opened a door leading to a hallway with three flats on either side, mostly bed sitting rooms. The ones on the right belonged to MI-5 and connected by closets with a hidden panel to the central or main room. However, in order to effect the transformation, the MI-5 bought chairs with metal backs which if placed in a certain way with a thick eiderdown and blankets over them could look like the typical cot. They also had false walls installed with floral wallpaper over the real beige walls with the wood panels. To disguise the desk and chair where the operative conducted his business, they placed a table cloth over it, placed a hot plate in the middle over a stone slab, and brought out a couple of chairs from the closets to make the illusion.
Since all this took some doing, MI-5 had a telephone installed with the only line between it, the War Office, and MI-5 headquarters. As for someone coming in from outside; they had to use the telephone downstairs, call MI-5, and after a series of code (changed every week), MI5 would call the operative and tell him what to expect.
Thus Major Archibald Southam had enough time to have his lieutenant remove the panels, take off the eiderdown, and put the hot plate away. He then took off his cap and jacket, had a quick wash in the basin, ran a razor over his face, and then dressed in his official army uniform. Combing his hair was no problem, for his thick blonde hair was no more. He had lost it gradually through time so all that remained was a patch that stubbornly dropped over his forehead. At this moment, he was tryng to comb it back, and adjust his cap while his aide, Lieutenant William Coverton did the ahem bit.
"What is it, lieutenant?"
"Those men the War Office sent over. Something about babies."
"Babies. Then send them to Sister Rodgers. That's her department."
"I'm afraid not," said Coverton, handing him a file. "It's yours, sir." He then went back to the door and opened it.
Southam arose from behind his desk, and waited until the three men entering, saluted him.
They had changed since the week they arrived, now in their proper uniforms. The Major nodded to the senior man. "Sergeant Henry Reichart. It says here that you, Corporal Carney and Private Ross engineered an escape along with Private Thomas, Private Walker, Private Drake, Lieutenant Rice-Jones, and an American, Captain Labreuf from Minnesota. It seems you were the only survivors."
"Yes sir."
"It also says here that you stumbled on a nursery along with this scribbler listing prominent SS officers and women with-ah-the best genes to produce the perfect Aryan race. I hope I translated it correctly, Sergeant."
"Yes sir."
The Major took a pipe, filled it with tobacco, lit it, and took a few puffs. What he had to do required the approval of the British military as well as the scientific community. Sending men to their deaths to infiltrate a military organization was one thing, sending them to investigate German childcare practices was another. "It says here that Lieutenant Rice-Jones met his death while going through an area inhabited by Hitler youth. Lieutenant Rice-Jones was a fast sprinter, and trained in unarmed combat. He would have no trouble against nine and ten year old boys. Elaborate."
"Sir, these boys as you call them, had the strength and stamina as men. I actually saw one of them run the Lieutenant to death, and what they did to Drake, I'd rather not say."
However, on the Major's insistence, he filled in the details, the youths appearing to sniff out the prisoners, surrounding Drake and kicking him to death, and then going after the rest. The American saved their lives by hollering and causing the boys to chase him. He thought he was safe until one of the youth jumped on him and with a small knife, slit his throat. Thomas and Walker hid in a barrel, thinking they were unnoticeable until one of the boys pointed it out and the rest brought firebrands. While the Hitler Youth were watching the victims scream, Reichart, Ross, and Carney made their way across the field and entered the town.
"Interesting. Corporal could you ask the officer at the door to come in? Lieutenant, I want you to take these men down for briefing. Be sure they're assigned to some place other than their original units and see that they are first in line for promotions or recommendations." With that, he saluted, and bid the three men good-bye.
The man who entered was in civilian clothes. He was tall, with blonde hair, and blue eyes. He had applied for the Royal Navy, but the recruiter learning that he spoke German with a perfect accent and had a German mother, called MI5. After an examination as to his loyalty, they recruited him. This was to be his first assignment, one that they knew he could fit in for Alfred Carmichael had the appearance of a perfect Aryan.
"Alfred Carmichael?"
"Yes Major Southam. The Chief said you wanted me for something."
The Major handed him a file. "I want you to study it. So far, no one knows that you tried to enlist in the Navy. I made sure that none of the armed forces would have you believing your talents would be served in another manner and not wishing any of your family in Germany harmed."
"I see. And the woman I take it, I expect I'm to seduce her and find out what this baby project is."
"England expects you to make sacrifices."
"And if something goes wrong?"
"We will deny all knowledge. I see by your face, you are thinking of another matter. Then we will send Miss Allison Chalmers. She speaks perfect German and is already in Hamburg masquerading as a nurse."
He waited until Carmichael read the file. "Now here's want I want you to do. I want you to get absolute proof that the Nazis are and have started an Aryan breeding program. We will equip you with a camera. We've disguised it in a matchstick box and I hope you know, that you're going to learn to like German cigarettes so you'd better give me your pack. Thank you, Carmichael. By the way, the lab will set you out with the necessary equipment. And you have only one week to prepare."
"Thank you sir.'
The headquarters of one of one of MI-5's best operatives was in a rather non-descript little flat in a rather old building in London. They had chosen this, rather than at the War Office, believing that the Cockney population around would hide its true intentions.
As you climbed up the stairs, you opened a door leading to a hallway with three flats on either side, mostly bed sitting rooms. The ones on the right belonged to MI-5 and connected by closets with a hidden panel to the central or main room. However, in order to effect the transformation, the MI-5 bought chairs with metal backs which if placed in a certain way with a thick eiderdown and blankets over them could look like the typical cot. They also had false walls installed with floral wallpaper over the real beige walls with the wood panels. To disguise the desk and chair where the operative conducted his business, they placed a table cloth over it, placed a hot plate in the middle over a stone slab, and brought out a couple of chairs from the closets to make the illusion.
Since all this took some doing, MI-5 had a telephone installed with the only line between it, the War Office, and MI-5 headquarters. As for someone coming in from outside; they had to use the telephone downstairs, call MI-5, and after a series of code (changed every week), MI5 would call the operative and tell him what to expect.
Thus Major Archibald Southam had enough time to have his lieutenant remove the panels, take off the eiderdown, and put the hot plate away. He then took off his cap and jacket, had a quick wash in the basin, ran a razor over his face, and then dressed in his official army uniform. Combing his hair was no problem, for his thick blonde hair was no more. He had lost it gradually through time so all that remained was a patch that stubbornly dropped over his forehead. At this moment, he was tryng to comb it back, and adjust his cap while his aide, Lieutenant William Coverton did the ahem bit.
"What is it, lieutenant?"
"Those men the War Office sent over. Something about babies."
"Babies. Then send them to Sister Rodgers. That's her department."
"I'm afraid not," said Coverton, handing him a file. "It's yours, sir." He then went back to the door and opened it.
Southam arose from behind his desk, and waited until the three men entering, saluted him.
They had changed since the week they arrived, now in their proper uniforms. The Major nodded to the senior man. "Sergeant Henry Reichart. It says here that you, Corporal Carney and Private Ross engineered an escape along with Private Thomas, Private Walker, Private Drake, Lieutenant Rice-Jones, and an American, Captain Labreuf from Minnesota. It seems you were the only survivors."
"Yes sir."
"It also says here that you stumbled on a nursery along with this scribbler listing prominent SS officers and women with-ah-the best genes to produce the perfect Aryan race. I hope I translated it correctly, Sergeant."
"Yes sir."
The Major took a pipe, filled it with tobacco, lit it, and took a few puffs. What he had to do required the approval of the British military as well as the scientific community. Sending men to their deaths to infiltrate a military organization was one thing, sending them to investigate German childcare practices was another. "It says here that Lieutenant Rice-Jones met his death while going through an area inhabited by Hitler youth. Lieutenant Rice-Jones was a fast sprinter, and trained in unarmed combat. He would have no trouble against nine and ten year old boys. Elaborate."
"Sir, these boys as you call them, had the strength and stamina as men. I actually saw one of them run the Lieutenant to death, and what they did to Drake, I'd rather not say."
However, on the Major's insistence, he filled in the details, the youths appearing to sniff out the prisoners, surrounding Drake and kicking him to death, and then going after the rest. The American saved their lives by hollering and causing the boys to chase him. He thought he was safe until one of the youth jumped on him and with a small knife, slit his throat. Thomas and Walker hid in a barrel, thinking they were unnoticeable until one of the boys pointed it out and the rest brought firebrands. While the Hitler Youth were watching the victims scream, Reichart, Ross, and Carney made their way across the field and entered the town.
"Interesting. Corporal could you ask the officer at the door to come in? Lieutenant, I want you to take these men down for briefing. Be sure they're assigned to some place other than their original units and see that they are first in line for promotions or recommendations." With that, he saluted, and bid the three men good-bye.
The man who entered was in civilian clothes. He was tall, with blonde hair, and blue eyes. He had applied for the Royal Navy, but the recruiter learning that he spoke German with a perfect accent and had a German mother, called MI5. After an examination as to his loyalty, they recruited him. This was to be his first assignment, one that they knew he could fit in for Alfred Carmichael had the appearance of a perfect Aryan.
"Alfred Carmichael?"
"Yes Major Southam. The Chief said you wanted me for something."
The Major handed him a file. "I want you to study it. So far, no one knows that you tried to enlist in the Navy. I made sure that none of the armed forces would have you believing your talents would be served in another manner and not wishing any of your family in Germany harmed."
"I see. And the woman I take it, I expect I'm to seduce her and find out what this baby project is."
"England expects you to make sacrifices."
"And if something goes wrong?"
"We will deny all knowledge. I see by your face, you are thinking of another matter. Then we will send Miss Allison Chalmers. She speaks perfect German and is already in Hamburg masquerading as a nurse."
He waited until Carmichael read the file. "Now here's want I want you to do. I want you to get absolute proof that the Nazis are and have started an Aryan breeding program. We will equip you with a camera. We've disguised it in a matchstick box and I hope you know, that you're going to learn to like German cigarettes so you'd better give me your pack. Thank you, Carmichael. By the way, the lab will set you out with the necessary equipment. And you have only one week to prepare."
"Thank you sir.'