Chapter 258
His Majesty, King George VI, 1936 – 1942 (*14 December 1895 - †9th August 1942)
“The King is dead – Long live the Queen.”
If asked in the years after the war Felix would always say that the actions in the immediate aftermath of the King's death had always been dictated by a mixture of urgency, grief and anger. In something of a last hooraa of his American upbringing he looked at the whole matter with more objectivity but he could understand how Ian felt, the result of now almost a decade within the Royal Navy, the most British of environments.
The orders that had relieved them both of their current duties and reassigned them back to 'Headquarters' as it were had come as a surprise to the both of them, but Ian wasn't too displeased. He had disliked leaving all the hard work of the past months behind, but the chance of being near his...their family was something that he was wishing for as much as anyone who was deployed overseas.
Right now they were standing in front of the same door they had gone through when Felix had returned from the dead and Felix once more marveled over how personal the Londoners seemed to be taking the death of their monarch. Flags on half mast was to be expected, but for an entire city to wear mourning like this... It was unprecedented in his memory.
Speaking of which...
“You all-right, Ian?”
“If we had arrived a day earlier, we could have gone to the burial.”
Ian knocked on the door with more emphasis than necessary until it opened.
In one of the many rooms Ian and Felix found themselves opposite a considerable collection of brass: The Prime Minister, C (the head of the SIS), Lord Mountbatten, and last but not least Sir John Dill, the CIGS. Alarm bells rang within the heads of both of them, and what they were about to hear didn't really shut them off.
It was C who spoke to them.
“Gentlemen, doubtless you are aware what has happened...”
Over the next hour they were briefed about every tiny piece of the King's schedule. Basically the Idea had been for the Royal Family to inspect the area of the Coventry Industrial Estate that had been most heavily bombed. The idea had come from the Palace and even though the MoD had advised against it, the visit had gone forward after the Army had taken care to select an area where all bombs had been cleared, all the while still trying to get the King to call it all off. But then somehow one bomb had been missed and the rest was history.
“And this is why you are here, Gentlemen.”
“Forgive me for saying this, Sir,” Felix said, “and with all due respect, but this sounds like a straight-forward balls up.”
“That it does, Commander.” Sir John interjected, “but prudence requires it that we still conduct a full inquiry. It is not only that but also because we owe it to the Queen to find out exactly what happened to her parents. Basic decency if you will.”
He made what had to be a dramatic pause and said then: “And if there IS something of a conspiracy we want to damn well make sure that no one ever dares to touch the British monarch again. We cannot afford to be seen as weak and indecisive, not in peace and especially not during wartime.”
C then came to why Ian and Felix had been recalled. “And this is why you are here. We want you to conduct the inquiry. The both of you have proven more than adept at this sort of thing..”
C was referring to the time when a Soviet spy had tried to infiltrate Tube Alloys, the precursor to the Torchwood Institute and the Empire's Nuclear Programme that was now chugging along nicely in Africa.
“Yes, Sir.”
That still didn't fully answer the question. Felix was well aware that there had to be any number of people who were not only better suited to this by trade but who also wouldn't have had to be recalled from other important assignments. Then again, he was back in Britain and he and Ian had already decided that the first thing once out the door would be to visit the family, so he didn't complain too much. The one thing he would miss was the Italian food which, even though Italy was still under a rationing system even tougher than the one in Britain, was better than anything else to begin with.[1]
They were given everything, an Office of their own inside the building, an official car (A 1939 Rover 12 without military markings, like all cars operated by the branches of the SIS.) and last but not least two days off to visit their own relatives as a reward for the work they had done in Italy. So they were sitting in the Leiter residence in front of the fireplace with Jonathan and a bottle of the tuscanese Sangiovese wine that Ian had smuggled a case of into the country in his personal luggage. The women had long since gone to bed even though it was a Saturday and so the three of them were burning the Midnight oil.
“So Ian,” Jonathan asked as Felix went to answer a call of nature, “do you really think the King was assassinated?”
Ian shook his head. “No, not really. After all, no one would have anything to gain from it. The propaganda value of a dead monarch might have been immense during the Napoleonic Wars, but today even the Germans should know that it would only backfire on them, and anyway, they and the Russians ha...” he tried to decide what to tell his father-in-law. “Let's just say they might find it difficult to arrange it at the present time.”
Jonathan smiled, nodded in agreement and said: “I never bought that whole '5th Column' thing anyway. But what about the Reds?”
He always referred to the UAPR only as 'the Reds'.
“No, I don't think so either. Again, what would they have to gain? We don't have much in the way of trade relations with them anyway, the Imperial trade with North America almost exclusively goes to Canada, and the Reds can't afford a crisis in the Atlantic when the Nips are on the advance in the Central Pacific.” Ian replied, referring to the fall of Midway to the Japanese two weeks ago. “A crisis in the Atlantic that could well spiral into a full-scale war, and that's the last thing we need right now. You know as well as I do that we are stretched as it is, and if the Yanks decided to attack Canada while most of their and our Army is actually Italy....”
“Wouldn't be good, I grant you that.”
Felix returned and reinserted himself into the conversation.
“What's more, the Yanks know that and they aren't exactly stretched thin, but it stands to reason that most of their Army is on the West Coast. Where else should they be? They got tossed out of the Phillipines when they tried to intervene there and Hawaii is by now probably spilling over with Soldiers.”
Jonathan grimaced when he heard his son refer to the American troops as 'the Yanks' but his son had always been quick to adapt to anything new, and he could see it in his eyes, Felix was proud to serve in 'the Navy'. There was something to be said about being the first and best with everything. No added words to describe you.
“And how are things going in Austria?” asked Jonathan. “The papers tell you only so much...”
“I don't know much more than you do, and some of that I
can't tell you, but lets just say that the 9th and the 1st Canadian will definitely have earned the R&R they'll get once this is over.” Ian said.
“It's still as if it were yesterday that he gave me that DSO...” he said out of the blue a few minutes later. He sipped from his glass and when Ian and Felix began to trade memories of their adventures together[2] Jonathan once again marvelled how his son had changed and matured since he had joined the British Navy. Thinking back to the years when they had still lived in Colorado and fought over Felix going to Annapolis instead of West Point he had long since come to realize that his son had found the perfect environment for him to flourish in and that it would have been a waste to force him into the Army. Felix would most likely have died either when the Red Militias burned down the school or a few years later when the remnants of the West Point Cadets had died along with the rest of the Big Red One in the defence of Seattle. Here in Britain he had found work that he liked. The British had taken up the torch of Liberty and had done pretty much everything that certain circles said they would never do. They had stood up to the Axis. They had fought the Axis. They had gone on fighting when France had fallen. They had invaded Europe with all their might and now seemed poised to march into Germany itself. The British had been challenged by the might of Europe and had stepped up to it.
The King had been the symbol of that spirit, and that probably was why the British were so sad and angry at the same time. If there really was someone who had killed him, then woe to the poor soul if Ian and Felix found out who he was.
[Notes: I decided not to show the actual funeral because I would never be able to do it justice. However, if anyone is interested,
here the OTL one is described.]
[1] I actually prefer Indian food. There is this place.. they make the best Chicken Curry of all time. And yes, in the middle of Germany.
[2] Those that are public knowledge at least