John Schettler - Kirov

“Well, it’s beginning to feel like I’ve a fleet to command here after all,” he said to Brind. Now he had two good battleships, along with Repulse, wounded but still battle worthy. The addition of four cruisers enabled him to screen these ships, and he then placed his five destroyers further out, as a picket line against U-boats and a means of sending him early warning if the German raider launched those infernal rockets again. They were now dead in the middle of the North Atlantic, half way between Ireland and Newfoundland.

Some 500 miles south of him, Admiral Somerville was out in Force H with another sizable battle group. Tovey planned to link up with him in two days time, just off the tip of Newfoundland. He would add the battleship Nelson, battlecruiser Renown, four more cruisers and the veteran carrier Ark Royal to the cards he could play. Together this would be the largest battle fleet England had assembled in any one place since Jutland in the First World War. Then, once he had the Prime Minister safely ashore, he would turn north and settle accounts with the Germans.

“Let them try to fling their fireworks at the whole of the Royal Navy,” he said, his spirits renewed and the light of battle in his eyes.

“The Americans will be there as well, sir,” said Brind. “Admiralty reports that their Admiral King has ordered the Atlantic Fleet to full battle readiness. They’ve even put out word to summon another aircraft carrier, the Yorktown, and the battleship Texas from their maneuvers in the Caribbean. It will give them damn near as many heavy ships and cruisers as we’ll have, sir.”

Tovey smiled. “Think of it, Brind. The Prime Minister is set to make his pitch to Roosevelt in the hopes of getting the Yanks in on our side. Then Jerry comes along with Graf Zeppelin and sticks his thumb in the pie! Can’t you see it now? Imagine both our fleets steaming shoulder to shoulder in the mightiest armada the world has ever seen. This business with Graf Zeppelin is the least of it, a mere nuisance. The main thing will be the photos of this grand Allied fleet scouring the seas, delivering just retribution on our enemies. It will give Herr Hitler fits, and let him know just exactly who he is trifling with now. We’re not alone any longer. This is going to change everything.”

“That it will, sir,” said Brind with a smile. “Yet considering that note of retribution. The Yanks will want to go all out to get this German ship.”

“We’ve got a score to settle as well,” said Tovey. “You don’t pull a sucker punch like that on the Royal Navy without hearing about it again.”

“That’s just it, sir,” said Brind. “This may seem a tad out of place given what’s happened. But we might give some thought to trying to capture this vessel intact. Then we could have a look at these ruddy rockets they’ve been using.”

“Not much chance of that, Daddy,” said Tovey. “First off, she’ll need every damn rocket aboard when she gets a look at our battle fleet darkening her near horizon. I wouldn’t think we’d find very much left aboard even if we were to seize the ship. For that matter, Jerry is likely to scuttle the ship if we do manage to corner her, just as they did with Graf Spee.”

“You’re probably right, Admiral,” said Brind. “Then I guess the only question is this-who gets to sink the Graf Zeppelin first?”

“I know the Americans will want to weigh in right off, but if the Prime Minister has anything to say about it, that honor will be reserved for the Royal Navy…and me!” He smiled broadly.

“Signal Prince of Wales: My regards to the FNP.” He was referring to the Former Naval Person, Churchill himself.

Miles away the analysts at Bletchley Park were having a look at some very unusual photographs. They had come in from Iceland on the Royal Post, and Western Approaches Command had prints made from the film them sent right over to the intelligence experts at Hut 8, as well as to the Admiralty. That, plus a bit of other news from agents on the ground had set jaws wagging again. Graf Zeppelin had been positively identified near Stettin, where the Germans had towed her some months ago to keep her safe from Russian air attacks. It seems the raider at loose on the seas was something else.

“Well this is odd,” said Atkins. “You’d better have another look at your chess set, Alan. We thought it was the Admiral Sheer, but she’s in port at Kiel. Then the Admiralty discovered Graf Zeppelin was missing and we thought that settled the matter. Now it seems she’s been found again, and not out south of Iceland where all this hubbub is going on.”

Alan Turing looked up from his chess board. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the yellow manila envelope Atkins had opened.

“Courier delivery. Reconnaissance photos taken by an American PBY. It seems Jerry been cheating at the game, Alan. He’s carved a new chess piece!” He brought the photos over to Turing, who glanced at them, still fixated on his game. But a second look soon commanded his complete attention, and he put down the pawn he had been fiddling with and took the photos in hand.

“It’s very odd looking,” Atkins went on. “Certainly not an aircraft carrier, or even a hybrid. Looks more like a battlecruiser of sorts. And a rather dangerous looking one at that. Look at all those odd domes and antennae. The ship looks like it is bristling with electronic devices.”

Turing took a closer look, his attention suddenly captured by the strange looking ship. “My, my…what have we here,” he breathed. “Those have to be radio direction finding sets and radar equipment. And that’s odd…no smoke stacks amidships at all. Could they be hidden elsewhere?”

“Some of the Japanese carrier designs had side venting stacks, but I don’t see anything like that here.”

“Make a note of that-no stacks. Very odd, indeed.”

“And have a look at these guns…” Atkins pointed, handing Turing the magnifying glass.

“Odd shape for a gun turret, but nothing out of the ordinary there. They look to be 5.7 inchers or thereabouts. This monster can’t take much of a bite out of anything with those. But these hatches on the forward decks look interesting. They must be mounting those rockets the Admiralty has been in a dither about there, below decks. Ingenious!”

“Atkins gave him a bemused look. “Alan…How in the world could we have missed something like this? The keel would have been laid down years ago. There’s no way we could fail to detect the construction of a ship like this-particularly one of this size. Every report we have on this raider speaks to its size. Frightened that destroyer captain out of his wits when he bumped noses with the damn thing up near Jan Mayen.”

“Interesting…” Turing’s eye seemed grossly enlarged as he peered through the magnifying glass. “No flags or insignia,” he murmured quietly, almost to himself. Then he seemed to focus intently on the sharp forward bow of the ship, thinking he spied the vague outline of a single star there. He couldn’t be sure, given the resolution of the photo, yet his brow furrowed with obvious concern.

“Look there, Atkins… That’s a man standing on the foredeck. See his shadow there? Let’s use him for scale and work out the dimensions. Make sure the chaps in Hut 8 see that and send it all over to the naval intelligence unit. I’m here to sort out the cyphers, not bandy about with ships.” He had tried to appear glib about the matter but his expression revealed some discomfiture. It was clear that the lapse of intelligence on this had bothered him, and if he had come to any inner conclusion on what he thought he saw on the ship’s prow, he said nothing more about it.

“You know what this means,” said Atkins, a warning in his voice. “They’re going to want us to go over all the code for the last six months or more to see how we could have missed this little darling. It’s going to be quite busy around here the next few weeks.”