“What of the marines, sir?” Even though Ian had expected this, the thought of his comrades being defeated in the field, being held prisoner, left him thunderstruck.
“I am informed that the governor and the garrison are being airlifted to the mainland,” Stone said. “From there it is expected they will be repatriated, probably through a neutral party, perhaps Uruguay. The Argentines evidently have no wish to hold British prisoners any longer than absolutely necessary.”
“Public relations,” Hodge grunted.
“Our fleet is gathering and the main task force should sail from England within three days,” Stone said. “One strategy that is being seriously discussed is the implementation of a Maritime Exclusion Zone, two hundred kilometers around the islands. Any Argentine ships or aircraft entering the zone would be subject to attack.”
“We don’t expect this to go into effect until the tenth or the eleventh, at the very earliest,” Fields said. “By then we should have submarines in the area that could enforce the zone, at least against enemy naval assets. The body of the surface fleet isn’t expected to be inside the zone until the twenty-eighth soonest.”
Stone indicated a circle on the map, drawn around the Falklands. He used a pen to touch the northern edge of the circle. “We should arrive here on the twenty-fourth,” he said. “We could make better time but to linger too long in the war zone would draw the enemy’s interest and quite possibly bring us under attack. It is imperative that we make our rendezvous with
Reliant
on time and unmolested.” GALAHAD called for Ian’s SBS commandos to transfer to the submarine shortly after midnight on the twenty-sixth. They would go ashore some twenty hours later, anticipating the Argentine air strike against the fleet to be launched within forty-eight hours of their landing.
“I realize that three weeks is a long time to wait, Colonel,” Stone said. “We shall arrive at Ascension Island tomorrow for a two-day stay. Your men and the rest of the crew will have some liberty ashore. It’s likely to be the last for all of us for some time.”
“I’ll give the lads some time off, sir, but we’ll also be rehearsing. Wideawake Field should make for a good practice target.”
Stone nodded. “Very good.” He looked at his men. “Gentlemen, we are at war. In a short time I shall make that announcement to all hands. Once we leave Ascension we shall be at general quarters on all watches. Our rules of engagement will be different than they were during our last voyage to these waters. Pass the word that the men should prepare themselves for action.”
Nobody responded for a few seconds. No man aboard had been old enough to see action in World War Two or Korea. Ian wondered how the men would react to the news that British territory had been seized and British troops taken prisoner. It would be a new feeling for all of them. He was grateful for the combat experience he and his troops had gained on Carpenter’s. They had seen the elephant, and he knew they would meet the challenges to come. He thought quickly of Jo. She would be down there, somewhere, risking her life for England, for him. He said a quick, silent prayer, asking for her protection. It was the best he could do for her now.
CHAPTER THIRTY
MI6
Headquarters, Century House, London
Sunday, April 4th, 1982
Sir David Blandford did not like the look in “C’s” eyes. “He wants to come out? Now?” the director asked again.
“I’m afraid so, sir,” Blandford acknowledged. “Our station chief in Santiago was quite specific in his cable. Tuscany requests extraction for himself and his family, as quickly as possible.” “Tuscany” was the code name for the Argentine Army major, Antonio Gasparini, who had so daringly provided access to Pilcaniyeu for MI6’s agent.
“I would say it is completely out of the question,” grumped Sir Alec Hyde-Watters, the service’s Director of South American Operations. “It is much too early. EMINENCE won’t be initiated for another, what, fifteen days?”
Blandford nodded. “Vixen is scheduled to be in Buenos Aires on the nineteenth. It will take her at least two or three days to get oriented and provide any useful information.”
“And GALAHAD?” “C” asked.
“Some eight days after Vixen’s insertion,” Blandford said. “That is the backstop operation, as the Americans would say. Should EMINENCE fail, the SBS will have to thwart the attack. The last line of defense, of course, is the fleet itself. Properly warned of the threat, I should think they could muster a credible effort to deter the strike.”
“We can’t be sure of that,” Hyde-Watters said. “We don’t know the exact particulars of the Argentine plan. Suppose they use more than one aircraft, more than one weapon? We know they have at least two ready to deploy. What if there’s a diversionary strike? I must tell you, gentlemen, Admiralty is in an absolute dither about this.”
“If Tuscany defects now, I should think that would alert the enemy that Pilcaniyeu has been compromised,” “C” said. “It might move them into a contingency plan, of which we’re not aware. It is vital that we be able to track the deployment of the weapons. Without that knowledge, GALAHAD would be an utter failure, perhaps a suicide mission.”
“Tuscany may already be in trouble,” Blandford said. EMINENCE was his operation, and he was fighting desperately to keep it alive. There was pride involved, of course, but he truly believed that the plan provided the most reasonable means to foil what the Argentines called STEINBOCK, and which was referred to as CAPRICORN in the few offices at Century House that were aware of it. “We know that the arrest and torture of his wife alerted Siegfried. They extracted her from custody at some political risk. Surely they realized there was a potential security problem with Tuscany. I should think they have had him under observation since then. Yet he was able to successfully assist our man in his infiltration of the facility. That was nearly two weeks ago. It could be that Tuscany fears he is in danger of exposure. Surely the security is tightening there as they move closer to activating their plan.”
“Or perhaps he just has cold feet,” Hyde-Watters said.
“Gentlemen, there is risk either way,” Blandford said, hands spread helplessly. “If we extract Tuscany now, that will certainly alert Siegfried that Pilcaniyeu may have been compromised. On the other hand, that might not necessarily lead to a change in their plans. Unless they fear that we will take military action against the facility, why would they move the weapons ahead of schedule?”
“Downing Street has strictly ruled out a pre-emptive strike against the facility,” “C” said. “The logistical and political problems are simply too great.”
“That’s what they say now,” Hyde-Watters said. “But if we tell them the weapons might be deployed early, and that we might very well lose track of them, perhaps that could change their minds. Do they just trust the Argentines to sit tight and adhere to their original schedule, or might the enemy initiate an alternate plan, perhaps to move one of the weapons to a naval base and install it in a submarine? A sub could intercept our fleet well before it reaches the war zone and launch the weapon in a missile. The fleet would be virtually helpless. There is no way they could deter that threat without direct help from the Americans.”
“And as long as Mr. Haig is flitting back and forth, they are not likely to provide such assistance,” “C” noted, referring to the frenzied diplomatic efforts of the American Secretary of State, Alexander Haig.
“Let us examine the other possibility,” Blandford said. “Suppose we deny Tuscany’s request for extraction, somehow persuade him to sit tight for another, shall we say, two weeks? And he agrees, with great reluctance. He would have no choice. There is risk with this course of action, as well.”
“We are at war,” Hyde-Watters said. “There is risk in everything we do, or don’t do.”
“Please continue, Sir David,” “C” said, with a look at his DSAO.
“If Siegfried is caused to suspect Tuscany of working with us, they could arrest him and extract the truth. Without question, that would compromise everything. They would know for a fact that their facility has been penetrated. They would have no choice but to move the weapons. There is no guarantee, after all, that Downing Street won’t decide to strike the plant rather than risk losing track of them.”
“Or, he could crack on his own and tell what he knows voluntarily,” “C” said. “If he feels we have abandoned him, he may believe he has no alternative. They could double him.”
The risk of having a double-agent at work against them in such a critical juncture brought them all pause. “That would be a disaster,” Blandford said. “As of now we are trusting him to let us know when they deploy the weapons. If they turn him back, he could give us all sorts of damaging misinformation.”
“And if he does leave, then how are we to track the weapons?” “C” asked.
“Sir Alec has a backup in place for that,” Blandford said, eyeing Hyde-Watters with a bit of satisfaction.
“Indeed?” “C” turned to the other man. “And that is?”
Hyde-Watters shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “We have a man on the inside, in addition to Tuscany,” he admitted. “Not as highly-placed, by any means. His code name is Mercedes. He is a sergeant in their motor pool. If they move the weapons overland by truck, he would know.”
“So if we extract Tuscany now, the fate of this entire operation would be in the hands of a mechanic?” “C” asked.
“Basically, yes,” Hyde-Watters said. “We didn’t use him for the infiltration because Tuscany was there and had access to the proper documents for our man. We have had Mercedes in place for several months now, ever since we became aware of what they might be doing down there.”
Blandford couldn’t suppress a smile. “There we are, then. Even if they deploy the weapons early, we will know.”
“Hopefully,” Hyde-Watters said. “There are no guarantees. Keeping Tuscany in place would give us a much better chance to track the deployment.”
“C” looked back at Blandford. “During the war—and I suppose that now we should be more specific, World War Two—there were many very important decisions made in this office. Some of them resulted in people from occupied countries being handed over to the enemy. Sacrifices had to be made, we were told. The important thing was the mission. Dozens of French Resistance fighters, and even a few Allied agents, were given death warrants to preserve the secrecy of D-Day. And all along they thought we would get them out, as we had promised.” His voice was barely a whisper now. “C”’s eyes were far away, to a desperate time four decades before. The director was silent for a moment, and Blandford thought he saw the man’s lower lip tremble, just barely. Then those cold gray eyes turned back at him, and then at Hyde-Watters. “We shall not do that again, gentlemen. We shall not abandon those who have served us, served us at great risk.”
He turned back to Blandford. “Sir David, you shall signal Santiago station to pass the word to Tuscany as soon as possible. Extraction shall occur one week from today, April the eleventh. He will have one opportunity.”
“Thank you, sir,” Blandford said, slowly exhaling his sigh of relief.
“Sir Alec, make the appropriate arrangements with our people in Santiago,” “C” ordered. “Is Jamison still there?”
“I believe he is in Belize, sir, but he can be back in Santiago by tomorrow.”
“Well, he knows the chap. He shall handle the extraction. Santiago is to render him whatever assistance he requires. That is all, gentlemen.”
***
Fort Monckton, England
Jo Ann tossed the Russian-language book against the wall and lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her head felt as if it would explode if she tried to shove anything more into it, especially if it was Russian or Armenian in origin. The German had gone fairly well, and while she was far from fluent, she felt confident enough to pass for a German in casual conversation. Her cover story would help; Larisa Kocharian knew German only as a second language, and one recently acquired at that. Still, Jo hoped most of the people she encountered in Argentina would use Spanish, which she had learned in high school. She’d kept up on the Spanish and used it on previous trips to Mexico and Spain.
She’d been here only ten days or so, but it felt like ten months already. Her instructors were top-notch, her few fellow students were friendly, as were the other personnel she met on the post—sometimes a bit too friendly, although she hadn’t spoken with Archer after that incident in the gym. The food was good, her quarters adequate, but she was tired of the training and wanted to get on with the mission.
It hadn’t all been languages, though. The SIS people gave her basic lessons in tradecraft, some of which she was already familiar with, some that were pleasantly new. Even the familiar material served to bring her up to speed, so it was helpful. The self-defense lessons were avoided entirely once she had demonstrated her martial arts prowess. She was grateful for the weapons training, though; she had been falling behind with her firearms proficiency and the post’s firing range and instructors gave her a welcomed chance to catch up.
She’d gotten a few hours’ leave to go into nearby Portsmouth a couple times, including a six-hour junket yesterday that was wonderfully refreshing. She did some shopping, browsed through a museum and art gallery, and generally enjoyed being outside the confines of the post. At her instructors’ suggestion, she used the opportunity to practice a little bit of her tradecraft, such as following a suspect individual, which she found harder than she expected. Before she flew to Budapest, she was told, she’d be taken back into the city for some more serious training, including an exercise in which she would have to evade an MI-5 surveillance unit. She found herself looking forward to that.