Jacky Bishop, personal notes

Tea and no biscuits with Miss Gower, but she does pass on a letter to take to her brother at Imperial Airways in Bristol. What with no civilian flight and petrol rationing, trains ensue.

Svend Nordmann at Short Brothers in Belfast is volunteered for attachment to an Imperial Airways flight – with a Drawing Office seal to make sure that any field modifications can be made in accordance with the Regulations. He travels on train and ferry via Rosslare, Holyhead and Bristol.

Iain Ferguson is detached for special training duties and finds himself in a branch office of the Air Ministry talking with a Dr Jones. His reserve RAF commission is reactivated; hewill officially be surveying for wartime routes, but there may be certain activities with regard to investigating and impeding unorthodox enemy operations.

Mr Sutton is being put onto setting up a route survey flight.

To the Bristol contingent, it seems that Imperial Airways is being asked to set up a flight able to perform route surveying outside the bounds of the Empire and its Dominions. With accommodation arranged, we wait to find out what I'll be flying.

Wednesday 6 March

Once Ferguson arrives, we learn a little more about the mission. An Empire-class boat seems like the best bet, and we can pick up one of Imperial Airways' stock from Poole.

Saturday 9 March

We try for S.1003 Cathay, an early S.30 with the older and slightly more powerful Pegasus engine fit, and after the wheels of bureaucracy have done their thing, she is assigned to us.

Sunday 10 March

We arrive in Poole at lunchtime and make a fast start on familiarisation.

Friday 15 March

Nordmann and I get the piloting authorisations, while the others learn their ways round the rest of the aircraft.

Tuesday 19 March

We slot into a regular transfer flight to Foynes, taking off at 1051 and landing at 1302.

Wednesday 20 March

At breakfast we are greeted by one Dan Bryan, of the Irish Army, who seems to know at least some of us. He politely warns us off doing anything that might compromise Irish neutrality, and asks us to carry a box to an address in Whitehall – one which one of us recognises. Ferguson performs ritual workings inside the aircraft, and determines that the box is harmless.

We return to Poole, then Bristol, then London, to deliver the box to C. Liddell in an anonymous building. We explain the situation, and he seems amused; he is, indeed, the head of the Irish Desk at MI5, and calls in his brother Guy. Bryan is, indeed, the head of Irish Intelligence…

Ferguson takes us to report in to Jones. We may, it seems, be going to Norway.

Thursday 21 March

We make various preparations: we get cold-weather gear for both us and the aircraft, and sort out Imperial Airways paperwork so that we are formally on the books. We also load up on charts.

Thursday 28 March

We are joined by one Smith, as a steward. Probably not important. Seems to be able to cook all right.

It seems that six Germans have recently arrived in Oslo. One of them may be associated with Himmler. Their purposes are unknown, but probably unwelcome. So it seems we'll be looking into them.

[Smith is asked to do a little favour, delivering a ring to the King of Norway.]

We proceed to Sullom Voe, refuel, and spend the night.

Friday 29 March

The next day we take off at dawn and proceed fairly directly to Oslo.

[Smith picks up the information on the Germans; they're staying at the Hotel Avalon.]

We're joined by Frank Worsley, a mechanic with plenty of local experience.

[Smith searches the Germans' hotel rooms. Among other things, Hildebrand has typescripts dealing with the origins of the Aryan race, and a list of names of right-wing figures in Norwegian public life. They then go on to the palace and copy a servant arriving for work.]

Saturday 30 March

[Smith and Mr Sutton visit the embassy to collude with Barrett, the Passport Officer, on the matter of the Germans. Connecting various items, it seems that they've been visiting the Viking Ship Museum, and have the deputy director's business card. A visit may well be in order.]

[Smith delivers the ring to the King, and gets away rather than hang around to observe a reaction.]

We visit the Viking Ship Museum; nothing is obviously magical. I slip into the deputy director's office; there's a collection of items that aren't obviously ship-related, fine metalwork and fragments of good-quality cloth.

Mr Sutton spots one of them, a jar or container of some sort resting on a cloth, as potentially of magical relevance, and he and Nordmann cause distractions while I pocket it.

The item proves to be silver-gilt, and complexly marked. Mr Sutton does some kind of summoning that I fail to understand, and it seems that this item is something to do with fire; Lt Ferguson does a more formal ritual, and thinks that it was forged, engraved, and then… forged again before it was decorated further? And later it was used as a source of fire on several occasions. We pass it on to Smith, who arranges for its transport to England.

Sunday 31 March

After some discussion, Smith obtains a car via the hotel, and we lurk near the Avalon. The observer, whom Smith spotted earlier in the lobby, is out on the street today.

Two of the Germans come out, Hildebrand and Jörg; they walk towards the palace, and we follow them in the car. Two more (Peters and Grönig) come out and move off in the same direction., and Smith realises that the observer was working with the other Germans.

In the palace park, Mr Sutton gets an emotion read on Hildebrand; he's looking for something. Then he and Jörg duck into a bush.

Smith follows the second pair; they split up in the park, and are looking out for followers and unusual activity.

After a bit Hildebrand and Jörg leave the bush, Jörg looking flushed. Is it really that simple? Surely not. Particularly when they go into a different bush. A dead drop, perhaps?

There's a certain amount of shuffling back and forth to avoid any of us being recognised.

As Hildebrand and Jörg come out of the second bush, I'm strolling past, and try to look embarrassed. I catch the word wie (“how”) and move on. They move on to a third… and suddenly it makes sense, as they're all separated by the same angle from the palace at the centre. I move back towards the car to inform the others; perhaps they're placing something?

Smith alerts the policeman on duty outside the palace to this suspicious behaviour. While they're involved, Ferguson and I look in the bushes; in the second one we check he turns up something buried and magical, and looks further: there's a non-magical silver coin, and a compass which isn't pointing anywhere consistently. Ferguson theorises that this might be a navigational aid for paratroopers in the planned invasion of Norway. We remove them.

Back at the first bush, we look again, and similar items are there. (And the coins are both 1906 kroner, the first minting for the current king.) Nordmann checks the final bush and recovers another set there.

We pick a lake from the map, one that looks sufficiently deep and cold, and bury the items with the same relative distance and orientation.

[Smith goes to the Avalon and breaks into Jörg's room. About 5.30, Jörg returns and lies down on the bed. Smith doses him with tetrotodoxin and datura, then (wearing Jörg's own face) encourages his paranoia. His reaction is, slowly, to perform a ritual that lets him manifest a Munch-like screaming head, which floats through the wall to the next room, while he gathers his jacket and valise and stumbles out into the corridor.]

Monday 1 April

[In the very small hours, Smith delivers a troublemaking letter to Hildebrand at the Avalon, where there seem to be police and an ambulance crew in attendance. This delivery attracts the attention of the police. There's mention of bodies, and someone being taken to the sanitarium, not to mention the police calling up the German ambassador. One of the Germans is dead, one has had a breakdown, and one is missing, it transpires.]

On the flight back to Sullom Voe, we spy two warships heading up the North Sea at speed – a German light cruiser and escorting destroyer; and we return to Poole.

Tuesday 2 April

We speak with Dr Jones in London for debriefing, as well as getting Frank Worsley formally made part of the unit.

Jones would like us to consider strategic minerals in Portugal, particularly wolfram. There's some suggestion that German agents will be attempting to secure supplies, and we don't know much about just where it's to be found. So we are to make plans for a route to Lisbon.

First resorts are the the British Geological Survey (Nordmann and Worsley). A Mr Carter introduces them to Tarouca and particularly Panasqueira, which has its own smelter and railhead, and has been ramping up production by an order of magnitude over the last decade or two, much of it going to Germany by long-standing contract. The site is owned by the Beralt Tin and Wolfram Co., which is opaque as far as we know at the moment. The other mine, open cast, is much smaller at the moment but should have a good long-term reserve.

Mr Sutton and I go to the Ministry of Supply and speak with a junior clerk. On a world scale, China, Burma and the United States are the largest producers; Portugal and Malaya have large supplies but aren't large producers overall. Demand and price have been quite variable over the years.

Wednesday 3 April

Smith and Mr Sutton get access to the chairman of the London Metal Exchange, something of a challenge as he's very much in demand. German supplies from China are subject to blockade, but Hitler's deal with Franco is holding good for now. Given the strategic nature of the mineral, this sort of thing is always tied up with politics, so mere commercial-level interference will have a hard time achieving anything.

We consider excuses and route plans for flying over the mine on the way to Lisbon, especially if we set up an alternate landing site.

Thursday 4 April

Information on the Beralt Tin and Wolfram Co. starts to reach us. About half the holding is among ten named individuals, and the Banco de Spiritu Santo (a Porterhouse bank) is another significant holder. Nordmann and Mr Sutton go to The Times' foreign desk, and on to El Vino, where they hear of young Barker, turned down for the military on medical grounds, whose job is to read the reports from Spain and Portugal. (And is stuck in the office.)

It's clear that the Portuguese economy is thoroughly cross-connected, and under the thumb of Salazar both officially and unofficially.

Worsley at the Foreign Office sees what he can get on the German trade attaché in Portugal. He's clearly a career man, though he doesn't seem to have been as successful as the Germans in Spain at getting into the centres of power. As far as anyone knows, he's not on the take, which is at least slightly unusual.

There's little sign of a Portuguese opposition, or dissenting voices in general; anyone who survived the First Republic is keeping quiet.

It looks as though the managing director is the most promising pressure point, and anything touching him will clearly be tied up with the bank.

Friday 5 April

Setting things up to look as though the managing director, Enrique Cordero, is on the take seems like a possible thing, but that gets him replaced, not the contract with the Germans. That's not enough. But if we make it look as though he took a bribe to give the contract to Germany over a higher bid from the UK, that innately gets political. And burglary is well within our skill sets.

It looks as if we have a plan…

Tuesday 9 April

MI6 opens an account with Coutts for the managing director.

We determine the likely price being paid by the Germans, and forge a convincing document with a higher British offer.

There's a liner, SS Tagus, leaving on Saturday evening, for Africa and the Far East. The manager will appear to have packed up in haste and be seen going aboard (Smith will then turn into someone else and leave at the first stop).

Germany has invaded Norway.

Wednesday 10 April

We fly to Lisbon, and split up to get on with our various tasks; the city seems relatively poor even by the standards of post-Depression England. The best the Embassy can do for is is a Peugeot 402,

Smith goes out to look at the manager's house and evaluate the number of people who will be a consideration during his removal.

Thursday 11 April

Worsley works on on the car, while I make contact with wine merchants and start to arrange some vineyard and distillery visits, for after the planned date of the incident.

Things go awry and plans get re-planned; it seems that we'll just have to knock the manager on the head and make it look as though he refused another bribe, from the wrong people.

His car is a BMW 326, and he drives himself – into town, where he reads the newspaper at a café, then walks to the mining company's head office. Smith and I set up separately to wait.

He comes back, but doesn't respond to Smith's threat, instead returning to his office. We split up; Smith goes to one of the local newspapers to convince a reporter that the false documents are worthy of attention.

Friday 12 April

Clearly we need to get our affairs into something like good order, so Ferguson, Nordmann and Smith go to talk with the “financial attaché”.

It's late enough in the day that they get a junior diplomat who doesn't seem to have been briefed on what the financial attaché's other job is. And the man himself has left for the weekend, and is still on the road.

We dine at the hotel. At 9pm, Ferguson takes the call from the Hotel Atlantic on the coast; we plan to fly out the next morning, with a suitable excuse. Sutton plans the mets and we work on navigation.

Saturday 13 April

Up early for pre-flight, and a pleasant if short flight along the coast. Worsley and I stay aboard while the others go ashore to find the attaché. He's at the hotel, and the shore party return with the attaché in a larger boat; we take him for a joyride to avoid eavesdroppers, and brief him on what's been going on. Smith proposes backing up the existing deception with a bundle of Reichsmarks in the right place, but the overall feeling is that to do more while we're here risks over-egging the pudding.

We also sort out some cover business, fly around Lisbon for various interesting views, and return the attaché to his holiday.

Sunday 14 April

Ferguson, taking an interest in local matters, goes to mass at Santa Maria Maior – where he sees Salazar with a girl of nine or so, as well as the mine director, though not together. In the socialising after mass, Ferguson sees the director leave alone, without his family.

Smith goes out in the evening, sees a police car waiting outside the mine director's house, and finds himself followed, possibly by more police.

Monday 15 April

We carry on with our cover activities, making arrangements for intermittent supply of good-quality wine on a few days' notice – then plan the flight home.

Tuesday 16 April

We set off back for England. In the papers we took on board, it seems that the mine director has tended his resignation. When we get home, we learn that there's major fighting in Norway.

Wednesday 17 April

We report, then return to Poole for maintenance – and possibly transport duties to Norway. Training both for Arctic conditions (and gear for same) and for a bit of basic tradecraft seem indicated.

The cauldron has arrived, and Ferguson takes a closer look at it. It looks as though it originated in about 200-400AD, somewhere hot and quite high. It looks as though it's somewhere in Persia. There are symbolic animals of some sort, and hot fire separate from its forging (in more detail, there are people in unfamiliar clothing, and lots of fire about). About 600-800AD, there was more destructive fire (and/or warfare), and it got wrapped in the cloth in which we found it, and that's how it's spent most of the time since. How it may have actually worked is another matter; conjuring fire doesn't seem noticeably easier.

Friday 19 April

We're called in for a briefing, and shown a signal from February. A Norwegian ship inspected at sea was carrying millions of dollars in gold marks, supposedly belonging to the National Bank of Denmark and being shipped to New York. There's quite a bit of gold left, though, and getting that out (and any senior members of the royal family who want to go) would be most welcome… also Nicolai Rygg, the Governor of the Central Bank.

Information is inconsistent and unreliable, but there are several possible points which seem as though they should be safe for a day or two at least. The British Minister is accompanying the (mobile) Norwegian Government in not technically exile, so we should be able to get a signal to him. Meanwhile, we start looking for ways of getting weather reports and forecasts.

The best bet seems to be getting in at dusk and leaving at dawn. We get suitable RAF and similar uniforms, take the train to Poole.

Saturday 20 April

We fly to Lerwick and settle in for the evening.

Sunday 21 April

We load fuel, fettle the aircraft as far as possible, and set out with the aim of arriving about local sunset. Mr Sutton gives us a reliable weather forecast.

As we leave a cloud, Mr Sutton sees a ship wake off to the north; Ferguson sees a ship close to below us. Worsley pegs her as a warship, and Ferguson can identify her as a German destroyer – two of them in fact.

They open fire, and we evade, eventually breaking contact. Namsos, our timing stop, is full of British troops, and we continue south to land in Femunden. We anchor by a cliff face, and Worsley, Nordmann and Smith go ashore to make contact with our self-loading cargo. They talk to a few villagers, who eventually dismiss them as harmless nutters.

Monday 22 April

Later, a truck arrives, with ten people on board, and Smith makes contact with them. They include Grieg, who's clearly been in Spain; Frank Foley the British passport control officer, Crown Prince Olav and his children, the Danish minister's wife and children, and other dependents. Olav himself will not be leaving Norway yet.

We set out at dawn, retracing our route of the previous day, but don't spot any ships, and make it back to Lerwick (winning our bet that there will be no holes in the fuselage). Then it's back to Poole for an evening landing, where the wives and children are handed over to ladies-in-waiting, and the gold to James Hambro of the Bank of England.

Tuesday 23 April

We variously get back to London (Smith via an unscheduled debriefing to report on potential security problems in Norway), and convene in Broadway. We ask about covert skills, and some arrangements will be made. Back to Poole, and maintenance on Cathay.

Thursday 25 April

Mr Jones has a companion, an elderly lady, who asks informed questions about why we want to pick up these tradecraft skills, languages, and so on. We're told to pack for a week in the country. (Piloting clothes rather than impressing the sponsors clothes, knife and pistol as always, no hip-flask.)

We're taken north of London and then on a deliberately confusing route to a house near Hertford (this later turns out to be Brickendonbury). Two men welcome us:: “the Commander” (clearly a naval officer) and “Teacher”. The latter, with “Miss Marjorie”, has put together a course which they hope we'll find useful, starting after breakfast at 7.30 tomorrow.

Friday 26 April

At breakfast we also meet the remaining members of the Directing Staff: “Saboteur”, “Bomber”, “Printer” and “the Austrian”. The morning, contrary to some of our expectations, involves basic codes and ciphers with “Teacher”; then in the afternoon, secret inks. Our examination is to develop an unknown secret ink, followed by deciophering the message.

At dinner, we learn that tomorrow will be for explosives.

Saturday 27 April

“Bomber” and “Saboteur” are running today's session in one of the outlying bulidings, perhaps once a barn or stable block. The morning is very dull theory, ending with a rather more enjoyable fuse trim and throw (and a surprise bang on the walk back to the house). The afternoon is more practical, and much more fun.

Sunday 28 April

“Saboteur” shows us how to cross country without leaving a trail, and how to find trails other people have left. It's all a bit of a mess. At dinner we meet “The Visitor”, whose course design this seems to be.

During the night, some of us hear disturbances; there seem to have been intruders, and mention of possible parachutes, though nothing's definite at first. Four parachutes, it seems. And though Worsley rousted the Commander, he doesn't come down, and indeed has gone back to sleep. Worsley and Nordmann suspect he's been drugged or influenced in some way, and bring him down. He's acting very sleep-deprived.

The next step is to go out into the grounds and see what's going on – two areas of woodland and a pond in a clearing connecting them. The local police arrive and report more parachutists nearby.

Ferguson spots a parachute in a tree, with something hanging from it, but it doesn't respond when I get a few feet up the tree to try to work out what's going on; Smith later identifies that as something smaller than human, but it doesn't look much like a cargo container either.

We make contact again with the local police, and don't make further progress overnight.

Monday 29 April

We take a look at the casing again in the morning, and try to make out more details. Eventually this is identified as a large magnetic mine, and we don't poke further.

Friday 3 May

Ferguson receives a telegram: ‘broadway soonest’. We return to London and Mr Jones. The Evening Standard reports that Allied forces are being withdrawn from Norway.

Given the potential collapse of mainland Europe and the importance of Atlantic lines of communication, securing Iceland is a high priority. We're sent in haste to ensure that, in the gap between now and the arrival of a larger British expeditionary force travelling by sea and hoped to arrive next Wednesday, no complications arise, particularly considering the substantial German presence there already.

We consider range and supplies.

Our guest is also Smith, a well-dressed man with a valise and an official briefcase. He is going to be the British Minister in Iceland, suggesting British recognition of Iceland as an independent state (which it already has the potential to become, by treaty, at the end of the year). We know the Germans have made surveys of aviation sites, and there's currently a group of German sailors in Reykjavik, supposedly shipwrecked.

Saturday 4 May

We take the sleeper and get ourselves aboard Cathay. En route to Shetland, something sounds a bit wrong in number 2; Worsley reckons the oil might be low, and I shut it down. At Shetland this turns out to be a missing drain plug…

The lookouts think they spot something on the water, but can't pin it down to anything specific. (A periscope, perhaps.)

We get to Iceland before sunset; there's some blustery weather, but nothing too serious. The promised seaplane base is pretty much abandoned, but there's a buoy to which we can tie up.

Worsley and I stay with the plane, while the others get transport into Reykjavik and eventually find a hotel. Smith goes with Mr Smith to the consulate.

Sunday 5 May

In the morning, a party of men at breakfast speak in German, presumably not expecting to be overheard. One of them brings the others up to date on news; they plan to make reconnaisance of various areas in and around the town, then meet for supper.

Worsley and others make arrangements for worship. Smith looks into local folklore traditions and tracks down rumours of something known as ‘black spirit’. Ferguson talks with a lawyer and a surveyor about various German shenanigans. Worsley talks with someone who turns out to have been the local manager of the Pan Am base, and still has the keys.

At supper in the hotel, the Germans have surveyed from as widespread a set of points as they could reach; they've been looking at landing sites and potential defensive positions. Such local resistance as can be offered will be coordinated by Jónasson, the Danish representative, so he'll be a consideration. Tomorrow they're thinking about heading south, and they're sure to spot Cathay at Reykarnes; we think about moving her north to Reykjavik as they go…

Monday 6 May

Nordmann spots the Germans finishing breakfast at 5.30. By then, we've got the plan up and moved her round to the northern side of Reykjavik, planning to return in the evening when the surveyors have gone.

Smith waits to evaluate the opposition; one of the Germans is looking at sites for offloading troops; while the other surveys the flying-boat station and carries further along the coastal track. He imitates a local trying to warn of big storms, but it's not clear how well he gets through.

Sutton, Nordmann and ‘Smith’ speak with an Icelandic Government lawyer about the present poliitical situation (Iceland's upcoming decision on indeperence at the end of the year) and potential ramifications.

The Germans' report will be sent tonight.

The local workmen are annoyed by all these stray German sailors—many at the seamen's mission, others scattered around lodging-houses. There have been some thoughts about having them smuggled out to Portugal, but this doesn't seem to have come to much.

Tuesday 7 May

We finally get a good look at the seaplane base. The facilities are substantial, with a concrete apron as well as the hangar, with offices and machine shop. It's all a little eerie; it's been well equipped, but never used, and then it was mothballed.

Back in Reykjavik, the Germans aren't to be seen in the morning. Nordmann visits the Seamen's Mission, and sees the ‘shipwrecked’ Germans looking busy. (And two of them certainly look as though they might be the U-boat captain and XO, and two others similarly seem like officers.)

Mr Sutton talks with the chandlers. He, as with Normann, hears that the Germans are welcome guests, being kept well-disciiplined by their officers.

Smith gets a note from Mr Smith, asking that he secure the German wireless set. It seems that the police are involved too, but not at the room where he delivered the ‘special’ schnapps last night. Also, it seems things are to get exciting at 0400 tomorrow.

Worsley extracts the door frame from the building, and pulls the radio's crystal.

Smith starts searching the Germans' rooms for the radio; several of them have clearly been taken very ill. But one seems to have been emptied.

With Mr Sutton's help, Smith checkes the register. Hahn, Hister and Stock are all ‘transferred to hospital’; Sauber isn't. The night staff let Smith know that Sauber's colleagues were all taken ill. The prevailing theory is that it's bad local booze.

Divining for the rifles suggest that they've been split up. Smith goes looking for Sauber.

Over at the plane we get ready for an earliy start. The weather is worsening.

With a towel from Sauber's room, Ferguson scries for Sauber and spots him walking around the back streets near the team's hotel. Smith goes out looking for him, but he seems to be varying his route.

He attempts to drug Sauber, but the target is clearly aware of him and ready to defend himself. Rather than start a loud brawl, he moves on for now and keeps shadowing from a distance.

Sauber appears to be heading to the German Consulate the moment, but breaks contact. Ferguson locates him again—in a house elsewhere.

Smith looks around town, follows some men moving oddly purposefully, and spots what might be a setup for sabotage or ambush, in a coal bunker at the docks. He leaves information about this at the hotel, then goes back to watch the German consulate.

Wednesday 8 May

Worsley and I take off around 2am, and hide in the northern bay again. The rest of the team at the hotel go off to break cover and alert the local police (‘there are a bunch of Germans with rifles at this address’).

We hear rifle fire, and see flares over the harbour. Smith breaks into the Consulate and starts looking for a wireless. He finds one that's warm, disables it, abstracts some code books and leaves.

The town team moves to the docks, and there's clearly sniping going on from the crane by the coal bunkers. Sutton throws a bolt of lightning at the crane, which causes at least some distraction. He hides underneath, then not wanting to make an assault up the crane's ladder walks on air to get closer.

Nordmann conceals himself and Ferguson, and they go forward to see what's happening at the piers. Someone on a is firing a rifle out over the sea, and they shoot him. Another man on a fishing platform doesn't seem to be reacting, and there's at least one man missing, so they work round for a vantage point on him, but Nordmann gets tangled up in some loose nets, and is shot at.

Sutton gets to the crane cabin, and sees two men, a sniper and a spotter. His first shots miss, and he retreats to cover; he thinks they may be shooting at the other crane cabin, having no reason to expect someone to be able to get up close without making noise on the ladder. Sutton's next shots strike home.

Smith, having secured code books and valves, goes back into the Consulate, and fails to find Sauber—but tranquilises the consul and lifts more documents.

Military ships are approaching the docks—and flying the White Ensign. There's more rifle fire from the piers. Nordmann shoots the fishing-platform sniper with his newly-acquired rifle, and Sutton finishes off the second sniper.

By this point, with no countersigns or uniforms, it seems to us all that staying out of sight is a decent idea. There are some enemy left on the docks, but that's what the arriving British forces are for.