Christopher Nuttall - Axis of Evil

Tell me, how many masters have you served, Jim Oliver? Hanover wondered, as the other awards were passed out. Idly, he wondered if Ambassador King would be offered the post of Vice-President, but he doubted it; would the post-rebellion United States accept a black Vice-President?

Afterwards, the President and the Prime Minister sat together in Roosevelt’s old study. There would be time for formal war conferences later, for now the two leaders could renew their alliance and take one another’s measure. Hanover smiled; he’d met Truman before, but this was their first private meeting.

“Apart from Hoover himself, I think we made a pretty clean sweep,” Truman said. “It won’t be painless, but in a year the United States will be free of their evil.”

“Perhaps,” Hanover said, who knew that several thousand had applied to go to South Africa. Fortunately, the Smuts Government hadn’t sought the approval of His Majesty’s Government. “I’m glad to know that everything will be fine.”

“I’m sure you are,” Truman said sincerely. “Now… we have a war to wage, against Germany and Russia. The Generals were very impressed with your success in the Middle East.”

Hanover nodded. Nearly four hundred thousand Germans had surrendered; a handful more had tried to fight and died in place. The Turks were now allies of the British – and he was certain they would ask the Americans for an alliance as well – and the Axis position in the Middle East could be unravelled and mopped up in the rest of 1941.

“It had its price,” he said. “We’ve burnt through pretty much the entire war stocks of advanced weapons, from Tomahawks to JDAM bombs.” He smiled; the Turks had complained bitterly about the use of such firepower on Gallipoli. The famous peninsula had been completely renovated. “It’s going to take several months to build up again.”

Truman nodded. “So, no advanced weapons for Scandinavia,” he said. “We’ll have to win that one without the weapons.”

Hanover nodded grimly. Uncle Joe Stalin had finally decided on his response to the American declaration of war – an all-out invasion of Sweden. Between the Red Army in the north and the Wehrmacht in the south, the Swedes had tried to fight, but had been overwhelmed. Hanover cursed; the distraction of the coup and the need for some Americans at home had allowed the allied dictators to get a hold on Sweden, sending thousands of Swedes fleeing into Norway.

“We’ll press the offensive against Zhukov,” Hanover said. “He must be a little strapped for equipment since we nuked his supply lines; he’s not attempted anything clever for two weeks.”

Truman nodded. “So… what do we do? The General are divided; some say that we should concentrate on Germany, some say we should concentrate on Russia. What do your people say?”

Hanover smiled grimly. “Germany remains the dangerous threat,” he said, “even if they do have Hitler leading them. They’re the ones who are most likely to successfully develop atomics of their own, which they might use against you – or even us. They’re also behind in the bioweapon department, although Nazi ingenuity is better than I care for.” He snorted. “Given the logistical problems, Germany remains the easiest target, seeing that we’ll have to march to Moscow.”

“That’s pretty much what Patton said,” Truman said. “He wants a major landing in France in 1942 and a direct march to Moscow, taking Berlin on the way. It’ll be a nightmare.”

“It needs to be done,” Hanover said, refusing to discuss the space program. Perhaps it would provide an easier method of defeating Stalin, perhaps not. “By 1942, we should have enough advanced weapons and soldiers to make victory possible.”

“Let’s hope so,” Truman said. “Now, about the post-war world.”

Hanover smiled as they began haggling. It wouldn’t be hard to give up British interests in Mexico; there were hardly any in any case. If Truman was willing to expand American jurisdiction to the Caribbean, the British had few complaints. Edward might complain, but Hanover found it hard to care.

“A pleasure doing business with you,” Truman said finally. Hanover nodded in agreement; he’d gotten what he wanted out of the agreements. “I understand that you wanted to talk to Mr Oliver?”

“Ah, the new recipient of the Medal of Honour,” Hanover said. “I would very much like to meet with him.”

Jim Oliver gave Cora a chaste kiss on the cheek – he’d shocked Washington society by bringing her, even if Ambassador King was being honoured as well – and followed the butler into a single room, guarded by a man he recognised as being Special Forces. Expecting to meet the new President, he was astounded to find himself looking at Prime Minister Hanover, sitting on a chair facing him.

“Good evening, Mr Oliver,” Hanover said calmly. Oliver wasn’t fooled; there was a hint of cold ice under Hanover’s voice. “Won’t you have a seat?”

Finely honed instincts warned of the presence of other men behind him, cold-blooded killers from the SAS or one of the police’s SWAT teams. He took the seat quickly, studying Hanover; the Prime Minister watched him through cold blue eyes. His dark hair was longer than he remembered it; perhaps in all the planning needed for the battles in Turkey he’d forgotten to cut it.

Hanover watched him just long enough to make him very uncomfortable. “During your… imprisonment in Germany, you agreed to serve the Germans,” he stated. Oliver opened his mouth; Hanover spoke over him. “You sent them information on the future that allowed them to purge… rebellious elements from their own ranks, and you sent them information that allowed themselves to leapfrog forward.”

Oliver started to protest. “Once you came here,” Hanover continued, “you continued to work for the Germans, supplying information that helped them on their quest for world domination and supplying them with some of our technology. That technology cost lives, Oliver.”

He doesn’t know about Hoover , Oliver thought desperately. “I was sent here by Mr Bracken…”

“Who doesn’t exist,” Hanover snapped. “It was a good trick, Mr Oliver, but it proved far too thin under the concentrated gaze of MI5. Except… you’ve done something remarkable, Mr Oliver; you’ve made it real.”

Oliver felt, oddly enough, a flicker of hope. If the British had been able to charge him openly, they would have recalled him or asked the FBI to arrest him, or if they hadn’t wanted to risk the explanation, they would have sent someone to shoot him in the night. The mere presence of Hanover – the Prime Minister – indicated that they wanted to deal.

“You are in an interesting position, are you not?” Hanover asked. “You’re a hero to President Truman and Ambassador King. How pleased do you think that they would be to discover your work for the Germans? You probably cost them some of the lives in New York.” Hanover glared at him. “However, you have control over an important aspect of the American industry, something that we cannot allow to become disrupted.”

“Not with the Dupont Group being nationalised for their crimes,” Oliver agreed.

“This isn’t a debate,” Hanover snapped. “I have an offer for you. You will work directly for us. You will feed the Germans snippets of information and bits of technology that we will give you. You will assist us in penetrating the American economy still further.” He looked sharply at him. “This will, of course, depend upon your cooperation, but you would become very rich indeed, most of which will be funnelled into further development.”

Oliver blinked. “Of course,” Hanover said, “this offer does not apply to your allies in Glasgow. Most of them will be rounded up and sentenced to life in prison, or perhaps suicidal duties, under the Defence of the Realm Act. After all, they’re all traitors, like you…”