Doctor Who_ Just War - Lance Parkin [10]
Daedalus and Icarus soaring. Chris couldn’t identify the artist, but could appreciate the skill that had gone into its crafting.
Although the windows had been taped over to stop the glass shattering during an air-raid, the room afforded a view of the rest of Whitehall. The office was cluttered with files and maps, the largest of which permanently filled a vast round table in the centre of the room.
Admiral Kendrick entered the room. They all stood, saluting. Kendrick acknowledged this, but marched straight over to a composite map of Northern France pinned to one wall. Kendrick was a large man, in his late fifties now. He had an almost regal bearing, and a heavily lined face. Chris had quickly learnt about his commander’s military record.
Kendrick had proved himself escorting convoys across the Atlantic during the Great War, over a quarter of a century ago, where he had learnt to second-guess the U-boat commanders. He was respected throughout the armed forces. Kendrick glanced up.
‘The Channel Islands.’ He said nothing more. Chris grinned, and looked over to Roz, but his partner appeared not to recognize the name. She returned his glance with a mocking look that made him turn away.
Reed piped up, ‘I thought we’d agreed that the Germans were holding them for propaganda value only, sir?’
Kendrick grunted. Chris watched Roz glancing between them, bemused.
‘Yes, we did, but it doesn’t mean we were right. Latest reports show heavy air and naval activity. I think there is something big going on. Cwej?’
Chris mulled it over, pretended to predict what might happen. When he finally spoke he was quoting from one of the books he’d found in the vast TARDIS library. ‘The Germans would be foolish not to use the islands for training.
They could practise amphibious landings. How far is it from France?’
‘About fourteen, fifteen miles to Jersey,’ George answered automatically, his eyes still fixed on the map.
‘About half the distance to the south coast of England.
They could iron out the bugs in the landing procedures, find out who gets seasick, which new landing craft don’t work, what supplies they will need, that sort of thing.’
Kendrick looked enthusiastic, but Reed merely looked curious. ‘ “Iron out the bugs”?’
Chris bit his tongue. It was so difficult to know which phrases were being used and which weren’t in any given year. In the end, he’d approached Benny — who after all was a seasoned time traveller as well as an archaeologist. She’d turned out to be quite an aficionado of the cinema of this time, and had recommended half a dozen war movies. They had given him as much insight as any academic textbook. It had been there that he had learnt that all officers had moustaches, something he hadn’t found out about in any of the books. Kendrick had one, although it wasn’t quite as magnificent as his own. ‘A Canadian expression, George,’ he said quickly, ‘it means “to solve the little problems”.’ Reed seemed to accept that.
Kendrick was nodding thoughtfully. ‘You could be right, Cwej. There’s something else: they seem to be testing some totally new weapon there. One of our operatives on Guernsey thinks that Hartung was there last week.’
Kendrick handed Reed a buff folder, which he began examining. This time, Chris was puzzled. When the Doctor had told him that they were going to 1941, he’d spent quite some time researching the period — nothing he’d read had mentioned this Hartung person.
‘I’ve not heard of him,’ he heard Roz admitting.
Kendrick didn’t look surprised; indeed he hardly seemed to notice she had spoken. Chris was baffled: he had noticed that for some reason, Kendrick often ignored what Roz had to say. As a result, his partner had become noticeably quieter in the last couple of