“If we sit back and do nothing, the loss of life and of your fleet will be devastating. What if we could stop it before it even happens?”
Hull’s eyes narrowed. “I’m listening.”
“I propose you move everything naval from Pearl Harbor to the Philippines, which is crucial to Japan’s effort in their controlling the Southwest Pacific. If Japan takes the Dutch East Indies, which are resource rich, the island chain will protect their Southeast Asia flank.”
The secretary nodded. “Strategically, it’s a good plan. You’d make a great asset in this war.”
Bernard lifted one side of his mouth in a half-grin. “Sorry, sir, I’ve got a great job already. My boss wouldn’t take it too kindly if I just up and quit on her.”
His silvery brows rose. “Her? Your boss is a woman?”
Bernard nodded. “Yes, sir. Damned smart and incredibly talented too. Also has quite a temper.” At the thought of Freyja, he couldn’t help but wonder how Alva was faring and if she’d recovered from her kidnapping. A twinge of guilt speared him for leaving her like he had, but the feel of her soft skin under his fingers had triggered a sensation he hadn’t felt...since his wife. He forced his mind away from the beautiful Huldra and back to his current task.
Hull grinned. “Wouldn’t happen to have red hair, would she?”
“Yes, sir, she would.”
“Thought so.”
“We have to finish decrypting the final missive in order for the President to get on board, so let us get that to you, then talk logistics,”
Secretary Hull walked toward him and clapped Bernard on the shoulder. “Sounds like we’ve got a deal, son. You go do your job, and I’ll make sure the President is aware of the possible changes regarding the fleet.”
After saying polite goodbyes, the three men left the new war building and made their way back to the embassy. Leaving his optimistic new friends at the front door, Bernard turned to leave, but stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. “I will return shortly with an encrypted missive from Shigenori Togo, the Japanese Minister ofForeign Affairs. Don’t ask me how, but it will need to be decrypted...quickly.”
“Do not worry, my friend. The code room staff will decrypt the document in record time, and Okumurawill also get us the clean copy to present to Secretary of State Hull when you require. So, go do what you must, and we will wait for you here.”
Bernard gave the ambassador a single nod, then strode up Massachusetts Avenue, this time heading northwest toward the British Embassy, where he could enter and easily disappear. Transporting to the future was the only way to get a copy of the fourteen-part missive he needed.
Making his way up the long circle drive toward the entrance, he walked between the two very tall columns flanking the sidewalk leading toward the grand building. Climbing the seven or so steps, he strode through the entryway doors and into the opulent interior. A feeling of contentment washed over him. It felt like home.
Dropping his gaze to his feet, the black slate and white diamond-patterned floor was exquisite, not to mention the elegant faux sienna marble columns lined up in front of him, separating the hallway from the large room beyond. The painting on the columns was so well done, he almost couldn’t tell that it wasn’t real stone.
The depression had hit so many countries, but England, in all her glory, had some of the finest architects and designers in the world. Only a seasoned stonemason would know the columns weren’t real. He walked past them and turned to his right, striding down a long corridor as if he knew exactly where he was supposed to be going.
Glancing in both directions, he saw no one, and entered the first empty room he came to. Closing the door behind him, he transported to Secretary of State Hull’s office, thankful the aide wasn’t sitting at his desk, or he would have gotten a nasty shock seeing him appear out of thin air. Glancing at the calendar hanging on the wall, the date all but jumped off the page at him—December 7, 1941. His eyes snapped to the circular clock over the outer door, which read 2:00 p.m. If his actions hadn’t affected the bombing, Pearl Harbor had already happened.
He took a deep breath and eased the door open. A glance inside the office showed an angry Secretary Hull as he disparaged the Japanese Ambassador and Special Envoy over the falsehoods stated in the fourteen-part missive. Closing his eyes, he willed time to stop, praying that the simple thought worked. When he opened his eyes, he was shocked to see the three men frozen in position. Hull’s mouth was open, his face a mask of anger, while the ambassador’s and Kurusu’s expressions were filled with shame.
Determined to make this plan work, he strode into the room and pulled out the small MI6-issued spy camera he always carried. Moving the pages from in front of the Secretary of State, he took pictures of each page. Satisfied he’d gotten everything he needed, he rearranged them, putting them back into the exact place and order Hull had laid them, then walked to the doorway. Just before closing the door, he whispered, “Time begin again,” and was just as surprised when Hull began right where he’d left off.
Easing the door shut, he thought a moment about his next move and realized he had no clue. He didn’t like feeling so out of control and needed a moment to gather his thoughts and regroup, and there was only one place where he could do that. Alfheimr.
With a single thought, he found himself standing once more in the courtyard, facing the magnificent copper fountain. The green sky overhead was cloudless, not unusual for this world and something he truly enjoyed, but the strangeness of the color was the opposite of Earth—or Midgard—as everyone around him called it. He watched the water skim over the surface of the hammered metal, the brilliant shades of dark blue, silver, and garnet shining as if they were Christmas lights.
The gurgling water poured through an opening in the fountain’s side wall, then slid over steps that dropped into a pool. Only at the Keukenhof in the Netherlands had he almost seen the equal. The overall variety of flower colors and greenery eclipsed even that. The twins had taken what the god Freyr had started and outdone themselves as they helped to rebuild their home, which had been destroyed during the elves’ Great War. He still didn’t understand what it had been about, other than it began much like the American Civil War. Maybe when all this clandestine stuff was finished, he’d remember to ask...if Freyja allowed him to live, that is.
“Weren’t you just here?”
Bernard turned to see Ailuin staring at him with a strange expression on his face and shrugged. “Yeah, but I like it more here than anywhere else.”
Alfheimr’s co-regent let out a bark of laughter and clapped him on the shoulder as he strode past him, heading toward the arched door leading into the palace. “Totally agree with you there. Now that this place and some of the living quarters have been rebuilt, it’s beginning to feel more like home again.” He stopped just inside the doorway and twisted his upper body toward him. “Are you coming in? You haven’t seen the throne room since we finished.”
Bernard considered his options and decided taking a few minutes to decompress before returning to Midgard would do him good. Realizing he still held the small camera in his hand, he tucked it into his coat pocket and followed Ailuin into the stone corridor.
Several yards of twists and turns later, they exited the tunnel, and Bernard found himself standing in a grand room. The glittering metal finish almost blinded him as his gaze touched on every massive, yet elegant, column. The intricately designed floor was made from gemstones instead of mosaic tiles and would have rivaled those of Ancient Rome in their design and beauty. Even the magnificent frescoes had been painted with the same stylistic skill he’d seen in the palaces of Versailles and Buckingham Palace.
Turning in a circle, he finally stopped and stared at Ailuin, wide-eyed. “I have no words. This is beyond anything I have seen on Midgard.”