Jacky Bishop, personal notes

RogerBW

1940

Monday 4 March

[14 May 2022]
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.
[23 July 2022]

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.
[7 August 2022]

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.
[4 December 2022]
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

[18 February 2023]
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.
[1 April 2023]

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.
[24 June 2023]

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.
Smith: That's what happens when you have Communist sympathisers inside the government.
Jacky: What's your control group?
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.
[30 December 2023]
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.
[elided]
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.
[17 February 2024]
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.
We make contact with the British forces when things are a little calmer.
[28 April 2024]

Thursday 9 May

Most of us fly back to London with the codebooks as a matter of urgency (putting down at Rochester); Ferguson and Smith stay behind to look for Sauber. They start by attempting a magical location reading, though it's quite fuzzy.
We take the train from Rochester to London and turn in the materials at Broadway, where they're given appropriate treatment. We return to Rochester, take the plane to Poole, remove Worsley's fish, and proceed with maintenance.

Friday 10 May

We're called back to Reykjavik as Ferguson and Smith have traced Sauber to a submarine, which nobody's in a position to intercept. Ferguson finds Sutton in an extended fruitless discussion about supplies.

Sunday 12 May

On the way back we follow Sauber's trace into the North Atlantic; he seems to be en route more or less for Ireland. We proceed to Gare Loch, landing unheralded in the Clyde, and Ferguson talks to the locals, gets authorisation from London to talk about the situation. This results in some sudden saluting and two Sundelands being set up to join us with depth charges.
We hold a briefing on the flight deck (with Smith's silver service) and set up frequencies, codebooks, and so on, then set out again.Ferguson manages to make contact again, and Smith and Worsley observe… a fishing boat? WIth Icelandic flag.

Monday 13 May

None of our options is great at this point, so we loiter until dawn, then various members of the party attempt to control the weather enough to produce a flat enough sea for landing. No joy, but also no problem. Ferguson, Nordmann and Worsley take over our dinghy, and, after a warning shot from the Sunderland's machine gun,s the crew are prepared to surrender their passenger. We return to Gare Loch and sleep, with the prisoner first drugged unconscious and then restrained.

Tuesday 14 May

The next day, we fly back to Poole with our prisoner.

Wednesday 15 May

And the next day, take him to an anonymous large house on the outskirts of London, then report in to Broadway.
[9 June 2024]
We spend some time learning open-water survival, on the basis that sooner or later we may well get shot down. We also get some oxygen masks and cylinders fitted on the plane; pressurisation won't be possible, but this should give us a higher ceiling.

Friday 28 June

Back to Broadway, and Jones. The Duke of Kent is in Lisbon, represeinting His Majesty and meeting Salazar. The meeting will end on Monday, and we're assigned to bring him back.

Saturday 29 June

The aircraft is already stocked, so we fly out in the morning and land at Cabo Ruivo, the seaplane base by the Expo grounds. Further up the river Tagus, there are many small boats out, and a sense of a celebratory atmosphere. We get the plane refuelled, and stand ready to go. Sutton and Ferguson go to check in at the Embassy; the junior staffer on duty can't do much on his own, so passes them on to Wing Commander Chamberlain—who, along with everyone else who can get away with it, is out at the Expo. They come back out of Lisbon and find him there. He suggests that the crew come to this evening's reception; we put on full uniforms, and make arrangements not to leave the aircraft unattended.
I go along in the first batch, mostly to provide distraction for Ferguson and Smith. Chamberlain introduces us to the ambassador, who seems not really to be on top of his job. Chamberlain's German counterpart is the Baron von Hoyningen-Huene (like many German diplomants, not a Nazi).
There's a certain amount of uncomfortable exchanging of looks among the embassy staff, but we establish that the Duke will embark at ten o'clock on Monday morning, to lunch on the plane.
The mine manager, left in an uncomfortable situation, is at the party; whatever's happened he seems to be prospering. We decide to leave well alone.
A ‘junior economic counsellor’ at the Embassy is in a remarkably good suit. Young chap, name of Eccles.
The Duke is in close company with a very attractive lady… who turns out to be the wife to the Minister to Madrid from Berlin. Eccles does a smart job of gathering allies and separating them.
Chamberlain has been introducing me around, including to a ‘Ricardo’, a banker. He's interested in Lisbon as an air transport hub, and the possibility of investing in air transport; my feeling is negative just now, but certainly better once the war is over. I leave with an invitation to lunch. Eccles points out afterwards that this was Ricardo Espírito Santo, the ricchest main in Portugal and confidant of Salazar… who is himself working the room most effectively..
Back at the plane, we take time to relax. We do at least have a planned departure time.

Sunday 30 June

Ferguson and Nordmann go to the Catholic cathedral, but we mostly spend the day quietly.

Monday 1 July

Around 6am, Mr Sutton hears aircraft engine noises, and I pin it as multiple multi-engined aircraft. I wake the others; Ferguson spots two aircraft about five miles out. We get ready in case a hasty departure is needed; but they prove to be two Coastal Command Sunderlands, which land and hold off-shore, radio silent. One of them sends a party ashore, including an Air Commodore in full dress.
Shortly before 7, a car arrrives with Chamberlain, who talks with the shore party; they take the car away and he comes to talk to us. There has been a change of plans; we try to look surprised. The signal he gives us reads: Kent returning via coastal Command. Speedbird remain Lisbon alternate passengers to be advised. He suggests that we talk with him later, once the other party is away; we specilate that the Duke of Windsor might be involved.
The party, luggage first, duly arrives and boards the Sunderlands; even the head of the Portugese secret police is here to make sure it all goes off without a hitch. (And he waits until the planes are airborne and out of sight.) Once it's all calmed down, he hands us a copy of the New York Times from last Wednesday, including a full-page interview with the Duke of Windsor in Madrid. And now the only problem is in locating our passenger… Ferguson confirms that he's not in Portugal, but finding him in Span will be more of a problem, but if we hug the coast to Gibraltar we should be able to stray into Spanish airspace. We'll need to find an excuse to land, and engine trouble seems most plausible.
This goes smoothly, and Ferguson picks up the Duke somewhere on the roads between Madrid and Lisbon, within about sixty miles of the border but on the Spanish side. (And having drinks before lunch.) Since landing on the upper Tagus seems unlikely, we return to Lisbon.
The most practical thing seems to be to send a party to meet them at the border; they might be there already, though the Duke has reason to avoid being in Portugal at the same time as his brother.
Ferguson, Worsley, Smith and I set off in an Embassy Bentley, with a plan to sneak across the border, scan, and make contact. In spite of everyone's warnings about the quality of the roads, the drive goes very smoothly, and we put up for the night at Elvas, a few miles short of the border and Badajoz.

Tuesday 2 July

[10 August 2024]
Early in the morning we scan again for the Duke, but he's not nearby. So we cross the border (openly, with diplomatic passports) and proceed to Badajoz; in the town square, a substantial convoy is drawn up outside the main hotel, and this could well be the party we're looking for. Eccles goes in to make contact, and passes on a message.
There are quite a few people hanging around the town, perhaps waiting for their paperwork to come through to leave Spain; some of them may instead be German or Italian agents. Or maybe the two parties are just the most interesting things to happen here for a while.
We arrange to set off in convoy, with us a little way ahead in case of problems. The border crossing goes smoothly, and we set off for Lisbon.
While we're stopped for lunch, it transpires that the Duke is awaiting confirmation as to his next destination—though we shouldn't be under significant time constraints. He does ask how quickly we could get to the ferry, without the luggage trailer; we proceed ahead (with Ferguson and Worsley).
With a short delay for a broken-wheeled cart, we make it to the ferry, and wait for the others to catch up, then cross to Lisbon. There's something of a crowd on the far side, waving British flags.
There's some problem at the hotel; the manager is talking with Eccles, and it seems that they do not feel they can accommodate the Duke (reading between the lines, security consideratonos). We consider alternatives; the plane is perhaps a little Spartan. The Embassy can arrange a house outside Lisbon, and we set out for there; a staff has gone ahead; Espírito Santo is also here, and Eccles looks horrified. Smith, Eccles and Espírito Santo talk, and Smith arranges to provide quartering (and thus be present in the staff quarters). This is clearly an arrangement by Espírito Santo and possibly Salazar, but that's not directly our problem. What he may do while staying here is another matter. The rest of us decide to stay at the plane, get some food and then sleep.

Wednesday 3 July

We signal London with an update, and ask for instructions (and for the Duke's disposition to be expedited), but hear nothing back immediately.

Friday 5 July

We get a return signal: Coordinate with Embassy. Of course, the Embassy already know how to reach us if they want to talk to us. Late in the afternoon the Air Attaché (Chamberlain) comes to call, seeming wearier than usual. The Duke's next appointment is not yet public, but we need to make plans to reach Nassau. The best bet seems to be to head south and across from Liberia, via Ascension, to north-eastern Brazil and then along the northern coast to the Caribbean island chain.
http://www.gcmap.com/mapui?P=LIS-LPA-BJL-MLW-ASI-NAT-MCP-POS-MNI-NAS&MS=wls&DU=mi&SG=165&SU=mph
It'll take at least fifty hours of flying, and given passenger preferences we'll probably be having long stops between flights. Eccles has aged rather a lot in the last few days. BOAC can arrange the fuel; the Foreign Office will arrange accommodation where it can. The planning and telegraphing take several days.

Wednesday 10 July

While preparations continue, the news is released that the Duke has been appointed Governor of the Bahamas. Problems at the BBC, it seems, but now it's out.

Friday 12 July

All the fuel and accommodation are arranged.

Saturday 13 July

An unsigned letter, plusibly from Smith, arrives at our landside accommodation; apparently their Graces have been invited to return to Spain for a summer's hunting. We pass this on at once to the embassy.
Eccles explains that the recent routine has been for the Duke to visit him every two days, and otherwise golfing and socialising. One visitor was a Spanish military officer.
So now we have to persuade the Duke to come with us expeditiously…
(Notes from Mr Ferguson, 5 October 2024)

Saturday 13 July

Ferguson designs a means of influencing the Duke, a BOAC brochure for the Duke's flight to the Bahamas, stressing its pioneering nature (and its safety). This will be a carrier for magic motivating the duke to get on with it. Jsckie writes to the Duke requesting a signed photo, research is done at the Embassy, and wording and typewriting are done. Monday 15th is a good day for this magic.

Sunday 14 July

Preparations continue, including checking the aircraft thoroughly, cleaning it, and preparing our uniforms.

Monday 15 July

An artist's studio is rented north of the Tagus and Ferguson does his ritual there. A car from the Embassy takes him to deliver it, and it is well received. The departure is planned from Cascais at 14:00 on Tuesday. Smith gave Ferguson a list of supplies to be obtained.
We get those supplies, and plan a course for departure: we will head for Cornwall until we are well out of sight of land, then change course to the Canary Islands. Anyone in Lisbon who is interested will know that the Windsors have left and there are Kondors roaming the Bay of Biscay. After the Canaries, we will be safe from them, but we'll stay clear of ships throughout the journey since there may be German and Italian commerce raiders around.

Tuesday 16 July

Svend is sleeping on the aircraft and is awoken at 5am by a feeling of danger. He sounds the foghorn to call the rest of us from our boarding house and we check and search the aircraft thoroughly. The only thing we find is an oilskin-wrapped wooden box tied to the underside of a bilge hatch, which proves to contain a Nagant M1895 revolver, a silencer (unusually, they work with this particular revolver) and ammunition. We conclude this is Smith's property and return it to its hiding place.
At 11:30, Wing Commander Tankerville Chamberlain, the air attaché arrives with news that the road towards Lisbon from the villa at Boca do Inferno was blown up during the night. The telephone still works, but there are no good cars at the villa, though there might be a runabout. The cliffs make access to the sea impractical for dignitaries. After looking at the maps, we phone the villa with our plan and fly to Praia do Guincho, the nearest beach accessible from the coastal track, taking Tank with us. He is incredulous of our intention to arrive in the Canaries at midnight local time when we've never been there before, but we are confident.
Svend and Jackie stay with the aircraft, while Tank, Frank and Iain go ashore. They find the firmest route from the track to the shoreline and mark it with stones, then hike to the villa. There are plenty of armed police there, and road engineers who are sure they're going to have to build a bridge. The head of the secret police acquiesces to the plan, and sends a couple of policemen with a handcart with luggage, while Frank fixes the small Peugeot and Iain briefs Smith.
Smith suggests that he should go on the first trip with luggage (he gets it all in except for one hatbox) and set up a picnic for the royals on the beach. Frank drives him, while Tank is deputed to entertain the royals
This all works. The second trip is Frank, Iain, the royals, their two terriers and the hatbox. Tank is left at the villa. We arrive at the beach, the royals are served their picnic and board. We leave the car for the policemen and depart at sunset,
(14 December 2024)
We set off in a Cornwall-like direction as planned, and turn away once we're about 30 miles off shore. But we're starting to see serious divergence in our star sights and navigational calculations. My innate sense agrees with Frank's ditto, so we go by that while everything else is diverging.
We settle in for the long haul and trade off flying duties. On communications watch, Iain pulls in Hilverum and Berlin, both rather stronger than expected. Iain's location ritual puts us north of Munich.

Wednesday 17 July

We fly on through the night, and Frank sights Lanzarote.
While confirming the safety of the baggage, Smith comes up with a statue of Our Lady of Lourdes in the Duchess's effects. This seems uncharacteristic and Iain is able to confirm that it's magical; it's been in the possession of a Frenchwoman for most of the time since it was made two years ago, then someone cast a ritual on it, and shortly after that the woman was in the company of the Duchess. There doesn't seem to have been anything like a formal presentation, and this isn't one of the women we have seen in attendance on her. Possibly her maid who was left behind in France?
We try to raise local air traffic control on the radio, without success, so it's lights on and a landing on the bay. Nobody's about, and we keep some engines idling in case of emergency, but get some sleep as we wait for dawn.
Once places start to open, Mr Sutton sends a telegram to BOAC (our location and ‘all well’). The plan is to spend the day here, refuel and resupply, put up (ourselves and passengers) in a hotel overnight, and carry on in the morning.
We strip the navigational instruments and recalibrate them. Iain, Frank and Smith go looking for a duplicate for the statue, but don't manage a good enough match until Smith uses some charm and manages a creditably similar Lourdes as well as a Fatima.
The Honorary Consul makes himself known to us, and Smith arranges for him to have lunch with the royal party at the good local hotel.
Something had been disconcerting Smith about the Duke's smoking, and he abstracts one for the team to analyse. Its history seems as expected, and there's no magical trace on it. Iain has another go at the statue; the ritual was done in Paris, weeks before it was given to the Duchess.
During the night, Frank spots a ‘fisherman’ on the quay who's rather more interested in the aircraft than in catching fish. But there's nothing we can immediately act on.

Thursday 18 July