“Bear in mind one other thing. These aircraft are rated to fly at twice the altitude you’ve been used to. At high altitudes lack of oxygen can cause a blackout and quick death. Use your masks.”

By now they were reeling a little; they’d filled notebooks. He said, “One more thing. About your parachutes. If you have to ditch and you’ve pulled the ripcord and the parachute does not open, here’s what you do.”

He stepped aside from the podium and stood unsteadily, the muscles of his left foot making constant corrections in his balance while he twisted his right leg around his left, shoved both arms straight up in the air and wrapped his right arm around his left arm.

Then he said, “It won’t do you a bit of good but it’ll make it a little easier for the rescue party to unscrew you out of the ground. Okay let’s take a five minute break.”

They stood up laughing.

He gathered them with the thunder of his voice. “Knock it off. Recess is over.”

They returned to the benches and Pappy Johnson leaned on the podium.

“The object of training is to get you misters into a condition where you can put a one-hundred-pound bomb on a postage stamp. Near-misses count in a game of horseshoes; they don’t count here. Now we’re going to make it a little bit easier for you because we’re going to limit the training to low-altitude bombardment. That’s because it’ll simplify things for all of us if all we do is train you to fly one specific mission. So I’m not going to fill your heads with the tricks of high-altitude bomb placement or how to evade flak at ten thousand feet. Those things won’t be your concern. Your problem is going to be strictly deck-level attacks.

“You’re thinking the enemy will be able to hit you with rocks. Let me tell you misters that ain’t your problem. At combat speed a B-Seventeen travels nearly two hundred yards in two seconds. You aren’t likely to get shot down by rifles or machine guns from the ground. They won’t even get a chance to start shooting before you’ve gone out of range.

“No. Your problem, gentlemen, when you’re flying treetop in a B-Seventeen, is going to be a lot worse than that.

“You’ll be going in low all the way. Flying in the grass where Uncle Joe Stalin won’t find you. You’re going to fly so low you’ll have mud on your windshields. At that kind of altitude an aircraft can fly into thermal updrafts that act like concrete walls. It’s going to feel as if the air’s full of boulders. You’re going to have to manhandle those Fortresses every inch of the way to the target and if you take your hands off the control yoke for a split second you’re likely to find yourselves digging a tunnel with the nose of your airplane.”

He stood up straight. “I think it’s time we went out and had a look at what a real airplane looks like. If you misters will follow me?”

11

Baron Yuri Lavrentovitch Ivanov’s house had been built for a titled cousin of Lord Nelson’s. The drawing room was very high, very dark and very English-a soft dark polish of woodwork and padded leather.

Count Anatol took pride in his ability never to let feelings get the better of him but he had to fight the impulse to pace the room: he tried to force his mind into the discipline of reading but his eyes kept returning impatiently to the Seth Thomas clock on the oak mantel.

Finally the Baron came in quickly on his short legs; he still wore his topcoat. “My deepest apologies, Anatol.”

“I am not in the habit of being kept waiting.”

“A cipher came in through the bag. I have just decoded it. There has been a complication.” The Baron shouldered out of his coat and threw it across a chair; he tossed an envelope on a low table and dropped into a leather reading chair beside it. “Did you know that Stalin employs a double?”

Anatol felt his spine tighten. “No.”

“He suffered a severe breakdown shortly after the German attack. He had to be spirited out of Moscow to a retreat in the Kuybyshev. For more than two weeks in June and July the Soviet government was run by Beria and Malenkov. They employed a double to put in public appearances to allay suspicions in Moscow. Obviously this was no last-minute deception-they must have had the understudy well-trained and waiting in the wings for just such an emergency. For those seventeen days the top Soviet echelon was powerful enough to manage things in Stalin’s absence. They kept the machinery functioning during the worst days of the panzer drive into Russia. They are stronger men than we have credited them.”

“It only confirms what both Devenko and Danilov have insisted on-we cannot merely assassinate the top man, we must eliminate the entire palace guard.”

“Quite. But that reasoning doesn’t apply in the calculations of our people in Germany. They have been moving forward on the assumption that they need only kill Stalin. They feel there would be no further resistance to a German victory. The Grand Duke Mikhail is eager to see Hitler win it.”

“I know. That’s why we did not take him into our confidence.”

“His people know something is in the wind. Rumors have ways of wafting across warring borders. They know we are up to something. That is why I had hoped one of them could meet us this week-I wanted to throw them off the scent. If you had told them to their faces that we were not trying to beguile Mikhail I think they might have believed it. Mikhail thinks of you as a friend-he trusts you.”

“He has gone over to the Nazis. He is hoping Hitler will put him in the Kremlin-Mikhail would rather have a puppet throne than none at all. I want to see Russia ruled by Russians, not by an Austrian house painter.”

“It is academic now what we tell Mikhail’s group about our plans. It appears they have a plan of their own.”

“What?”

“Mikhail’s people have concocted a plan to assassinate Stalin.”

“You are sure?”

“Quite sure. My informant says they plan to kill Stalin and make use of the double who has been so considerately prepared by Beria. The double will issue a few crucially wrong orders to the Red Army. The Germans will march into Moscow and the double will sue Hitler for peace. Only two men know about the existence of the double-Beria and Malenkov-and they are to be removed early on.” The Baron added drily, “You must grant it is an ingenious plan.”

Anatol was stunned; he wasted no effort trying to hide it. “How soon is it to take place?”

“As soon as possible, I should imagine. Why should they wait? Hitler is within three days’ march of Moscow. If the Red Army withdraws from his front there will be nothing to stop him.”

Anatol watched the Baron’s small expressionless face. “We must prevent it.”

“How? There is no time to effect our own coup ahead of them. Clearly Danilov requires several weeks yet before he is in readiness. And there would be no time to substitute Vassily Devenko’s plan.”

“There is one way.”

“Forgive me but I do not see it.”

“It is quite simple,” Anatol said. “We must warn Stalin.”

12

At five Alex presided over a ground-company meeting of field officers. The four of them stood on the tarmac beyond the shadow of the main hangar.

Across the field Pappy Johnson’s pilots were swarming over the bombers like children. A nimbus layer filtered the highland sun’s direct rays and even now there was a thin smell of winter in the air.

John Spaight and the two Russian majors wore gabardine jump suits with bellows pockets. Major Ivan Postsev and Major Leo Solov had worked in tandem since the inception of the Russian Free Brigade under Vassily Devenko in 1934; in combat they were remarkable. If one needed support the other would appear with his men-ready, knowing what his partner wanted of him; there would be no evident signal but each of them had that trick of soundlessly imposing his will on the other.