Dark Earth: A New Jerusalem

They are late 1950s/early 1960s construction and technology.

There weren't any atomic guns employed in the Second World War, but all parties employed superheavy artillery. In the case of Britain, the largest were the Dover Guns, four 32" very long range guns.

Nothing on the scale of the British; they have put more of their nuclear eggs in the rocket basket.

A New Jerusalem Part 4

The position of United States Ambassador to the Court of St. James was a prestigious one, of that there was no doubt. However, that prestige and power bought with it more than a few challenges and, over the three years since he had been called upon to take up the role, Dean Acheson had faced his share. The Anglo-American relationship had waxed and waned since the war, providing the background to many careful negotiations aimed at shoring up the backbone of Western security. Chief among those had been the Newfoundland Talks, which had paved the way for the US-British Mutual Defence and Cooperation Treaty in the dying days of the Thompson Administration. He had thought then and still did now that altogether too much had been conceded to the British in exchange for nothing truly vital, but the general utility of the agreement had seemingly persuaded others. The British, whilst less comparatively powerful as in 1945, were still the most capable of the European allies and had a global reach well beyond that of France through their Commonwealth ties and influence. At least the new administration wasn't quite as Anglophilic as Thompson; that had already yielded more effective results since Kennedy took office, particularly on the Far East.

Eden had been relatively straightforward to deal with, as his primary foreign policy drive had always been to follow Churchill's dictum to 'keep the Americans onside', at least after the ...events...of 1956, that is. He hadn't been quite as forthcoming as his long-time Chancellor of the Exchequer, MacMillan, who had been cultivated and supported as a friend of the United States since back in the Truman years, but that particular horse had pulled up short. This new man was rather different, though. Stanley Barton had been on the radar of various parts of the US government, particularly Langley and State, since his emergence during the Korean War and had been supported in various tacit and back channel means during his efforts to rid the Labour Party of its more extreme socialist elements after he fell into power; such measures were very much in accordance with Washington's interests and positions, after all.

However, any hopes of developing him as a firm Atlanticist had been dashed shortly after that point, as his next actions had been to carve out a strongly independent position that married old imperialist tendencies with the rhetoric of social democracy, however much he labelled it as otherwise. The confidential briefing paper prepared by the State Department had described Barton as a reactionary operating in the clothes of a socialist and spouting the words of an English nationalist, but it did read like it had come from the more pink-tinged corridors of Foggy Bottom which hadn't all fallen before the scythes of McCarthy and HUAC which were not particularly fond of the more robust actors on the British political scene. Barton hadn't formally come out and declaimed his belief in Britain above all else, like some sort of English-speaking de Gaulle, but there was that ever-present note of antediluvian imperialist chauvanism to both men. That was the primary purpose of today's meeting - to get a decent gauge of Barton's positions on the most significant aspects of Anglo-American cooperation and relations prior to his upcoming state visit to Washington.

Acheson looked up to see one of the obsequious Downing Street aides awaiting his attention.

"The Prime Minister will see you now, Ambassador. If you will follow me."

They walked from the waiting room through a wood paneled antechamber into a small study. It was appointed rather starkly by the standards of British domestic formality, with the only ornate paintings adorning the white walls being the ubiquitous portrait of the Queen and four classical battlescenes. The Armada, Trafalgar and Waterloo were familiar from his previous visits, but he almost did a doubletake at the sight of what was clearly the Burning of Washington.

Barton rose up from behind his desk in greeting, noting the quick glance at the portrait by the Ambassador; it seemed his little gambit had worked, but now he would see if it had succeeded in putting the chap off his stroke.

"Prime Minister, it is a pleasure. Allow me to extend to formally congratulate you on your election."

"Most certainly, Mr. Acheson. Please, be seated. There is much to discuss, I'll warrant. I look forward to being able to similarly congratulate the President after his own forthcoming re-election.”

"Yes, Prime Minister. President Kennedy has requested that we discuss some of the groundwork for your upcoming visit to the United States. The most pressing of which would be confirming some of the standing arrangements between our governments."

"Naturally. Mr. Eden discussed a number of those with me in the immediate aftermath of the election. I'll spare you any dissembling, Mr. Acheson and put my position plainly."

Here it comes he thought.

"The Labour Government will continue in full with the agreement and order of Skybolt. We will approve the Dunmanus Bay and Fishguard submarine bases and the expansion of Holy Loch, and we will be open to negotiations on a homeport for the Eighth Fleet, provided it would be in Cornwall."

"This is most welcome, Prime Minister."

"Of course; all of those do work in our favour as well as your interests. The previous requests for suitable bases for additional bomber wings assigned to your Third Air Force and for Strategic Air Command are similarly without issue.” He paused to fix Acheson with his steady gaze. “However, there are some other areas where this government differs from that of the Conservatives. Firstly, for the Thor missiles, we will be seeking to discuss the exact control and command arrangements. Secondly, if we are to go forward with the proposed Phantom fighter deal, then there will need to be certain measures put in place to ensure that it does not have a negative impact on the British aerospace industry.”

“Those seem like matters where some room for acceptable compromise could be found, Prime Minister.”

“I’m glad to hear it; these next ones might be a bit more of a stretch for you. It is the position of Her Majesty’s Government that we would like a direct understanding with the United States Government regarding the international trade in arms. To be blunt, we want a clear demarcation on appropriate spheres of influence and foreign markets.”

This was certainly not diplomatic language.

“The United States has a long held position in favour of free trade and this has been consistently reflected in our agreements related to the supply of mutual defence aid and necessary equipment for our regional allies and partners across the Free World.”

“Your advocacy of free trade doesn’t extend towards some of our products, such as the Concord.”

“There are of course some technologies and aircraft where it is of a vital national interest for the United States to have its own domestic capability, Prime Minister.”

“That much is natural. Same goes for us. You know our position. I’ll leave it to others to discuss the details in full, but I’m not going to sell British factories and British workers up the river for anyone. Having said that, I’m sure that we can reach an appropriate and just agreement that satisfies the interests of all parties.”

“I do hope so, Prime Minister.”

“Indeed. To that end, I’m glad to say that we can completely agree with and endorse all of the proposals for Allied Command Europe and the request regarding SACLANT command; symbols aren’t as important to us as the Tories. I’m even willing to push through the troop increases Mr. Eden planned for South Vietnam, at a minimum raising our force to a division.”

“That would be most welcome.”

“If you can back us up in the Congo, as has already been explained in our note, and continue to cover us and the Aussies with the Indonesians, then I’ll do more than that. We’ll stand alongside you, Mr. Acheson, just as we did in Korea when you called. To that end, it might be a useful idea if a session of the Combined Chiefs of Staff could be held, with appropriate publicity.”

“I shall pass along your suggestion, Prime Minister.”

“I do hope that you’ve found this little chat as useful and informative as I have, Mr. Acheson. I look forward to seeing the President next month; I’ve no doubt he’ll see off Senator Goldwater without too much fuss.”

“We can only hope so, Prime Minister.”

Acheson stood, shook Barton’s hand and departed in as business-like fashion as he had entered. The new Prime Minister wasn’t wrong; it had been an informative talk, however brief. If this was any indication of the future, Barton would be an interesting one to manage.

.....................................................................................

Every day, Barton would hear about wars of some description. The war they all strove to avoid, the hot war, and the innumerable cold wars around the world, raging in the brushfires of new nations and old empires alike. There was another war though, one just as vital and just as dangerous: the Secret War.

It spanned land, sea, air, space and more besides and on its success lay nothing less than the future survival of Britain. It encompassed the myriad projects of technology, espionage and sorcery that were undertaken to keep any edge possible against the baleful enemy to the east. It’s weapons were science, the arcane arts, human weakness and unspeakable bravery. Every day, there were thousands of men and women out there beyond the Iron Curtain putting their lives at risk so that others might live in peace. They were in Poland with the Home Army in the dark forests and grey cities, they were in the villages of Romania and the suffering prison lands of the Baltic and they were in the Red heart of the beast itself, in Soviet Russia. That vast imperial state was indeed a riddle wrapped in an enigma, with even the knowledge delivered unto them providing but a scintilla of insight into their path and their plans. The Secret Intelligence Service had a reputation as among the very best in the world at its game and his visits to the Circus had reinforced that strongly. He was intensely proud of those men out there in the shadows, as they were all heroes who would sadly never get their due.

Not even he knew where they all were for sure, nor Smiley for that matter, which was for the best. Of the current First XI, so to speak, Lothario was in the French Riviera, cultivating a female contact in the Union Corse; Cavalier was at his castle, preparing for the Brazilian expedition; Danger was in the West Indies with 17F; Chef was out in the South Pacific for some tests; Saint was in Geneva tracking down a Nazi scientist ring; Trotter was in Tokyo on a mission that only a mouse could do; Bonzo was in Dublin on the trail of that wicked woman; Galloper was out in exotic Angora running something in the Sublime Porte; Avenger and his girls were going after a drug smuggling racket in Lyonesse; Diamond was on the job right here in London; and Charlemagne was in Hollywood, ostensibly promoting his latest film whilst on the trail of Dr. Frankenstein. Whilst the codenames changed quite constantly, it was easier to envisage than the darned Double 0 system.

Another front was at home, where across the British Isles, the Security Services kept track of the many agents and illegals of the KGB who sought to bring down the state from within. There were 167 in London at last count, a number which suggested that the real tally could be quite higher, and more across the country. He had been quite surprised to learn that 29 had been quietly detained across the Empire since 1961 alone and a further 12 secretly tried and shot. Not inconsiderable parts of Britain remained off limits to all citizens of the Soviet bloc and indeed anyone who was not a British subject, all in the interests of security. This was not driven by paranoia, but the real threat posed by the grey men of the Red Army’s special forces, the Spetsnaz. The fates of the twenty five apprehended during the War of 1956 would remain buried with them in an unarmed lonely tract of the Highlands, but now the threat was much greater, according to…sources…in Moscow. The main defence against their threat was provided by the Scotland Yard’s Special Branch and Bomb Squad and the Security Service, including its highly clandestine Action Section, all backed up by the SAS as necessary.

The threat of enemy action, sabotage and subterfuge within the British Isles though, was quite minimal and contained, at least compared to the Empire at large. Here, the Secret War crossed over with the more visible conflicts in Africa and Asia and the grander struggle for the hearts, minds and souls of what was being termed the Third World. On such fronts, his chief weapon was the Special Operations Executive, which, along with its various subsidiary organisations, shell companies and mercenary groups, had proved just as adept as it had in the war to the hilt against Nazism. Plausible deniability was the name of their game and they played it ruthlessly, as well as being something of a bridge to the less conventional types who he’d met with earlier. Their foes were SMERSH, KAOS and SPECTRE, to name but three; there had apparently been some sort of discount for capitalisation while registering the names of their nefarious organisations, Barton chuckled to himself.

The latest reports from the USSR had been what had sparked today’s conference, what with the noticeable increase in the detection and cataloguing Soviet superheroes, adventurers and special talents. Something was afoot and now was the time to do something about it…

“If something can be done.” Barton said softly to himself.

“Indeed, that is always the question, Prime Minister. The answer does depend on how far we are willing to go.”

He looked up sharply at the sepulchral tones that disturbed his musing. There in the door of his study stood an extremely tall, gaunt figure clad in black robes and a heavy cloak drawn tightly around him. He doffed his capotain hat, revealing his characteristic long black hair and the sickly, almost green pallor that came from his labours in the dark places. His eyes shone with a burning zeal that seemed to go well beyond fanaticism into something not quite human anymore, but such was the cost of staring too long into the abyss and having it stare back until it blinked and backed away uneasily. His mouth was set in a mirthless grimace that seemed to sap mirth and joy from any room. This was a name and a visage that struck fear into the black hearts of those who had long since convinced themselves that they were beyond fear.

All in all, Barton quite liked the fellow.

“Ah, Witchfinder General! Glad you could make it.”

“I am gratified to be of service, as ever.”

“Very good. Now, your report was quite informative, but there were some queries I thought worth going through together here rather than dragging you away from the dungeons at Baynard.”

“Of course, Prime Minister. I am loathe to put aside duty for too long, but the battle between light and darkness requires knowledge as well as zeal.”

“Quite. Now, have a seat if you will. Good. Now, Witchfinder General, the section on the threats as your Office sees them was quite illuminating, but I was wondering if you could provide a more direct assessment - what are the significant threats and what are those of lesser import? What should be our priorities in this other secret war?”

“Very well. I would begin by saying that it appears that the dark is rising. All six of my field Chapters are the busiest they’ve been since the last war, the Wild Hunt has been abroad and men have seen Herne the Hunter walk the forests. Fell are the days and feller yet may come if we do not have care. Abroad, we see similar portents - the return of the Aztec curse, the business in the Congo and the whispers of an ill wind in China.

Now, as to the first question, consider it as a pyramid. At the base are the smaller groups and individuals who pose the least threat to the state, although their deeds merit response - the baser witches, the foolish Luciferian diabolists, the Hellfire Club dilettantes and the fools who dabble with the lower levels of necromancy. We deal with them quietly and quickly when we discover them in our usual fashion. Of an equal low threat are those who come here from without - the Voodoo cultists from the Caribbean, the Kali worshippers from India, the Egyptianites and those curious Viking revivalists. The Chapter for the Scouring of Heathenry has their measure. In all of these cases, whether they are domestic or foreign in origin, they ultimately threaten neither the physical security nor the spiritual protection of the realm.

Above them in the second rank are the more pernicious menaces, which assault us on more than this plane alone. Dark magic of genuine might is chief among these, as there is ever a cost that must be paid for such knowledge and power, not to mention the threat of opening the gates to beyond like the thrice-damned Nazis managed to do. The forces below in the Underworld are ever a concern on a more direct physical level to the Paladins and Templars, but our interest lies more in their other capacities. And of course, there is the evil plague of vampirism, which is on the increase. Eleven cases in this last year alone presents a significant rise from four in 1963. The evidence points towards the presence of a master vampire in England, perhaps two.”

“Could it be…Count Dracula?”

“No, Prime Minister. Our defences remain strong against that one. This is the work of another. I would like permission to consult with others - the Greeks, the Vatican and the FBI; the Americans have their issues with taking the Dark seriously, but their Infernal Affairs Branch is sound. In any case, it appears that there is a pattern to the fiends and their threat that is not confined to our shores.”

“You have it.”

“Excellent, Prime Minister. It is well for us to cooperate as there is much at stake, as it were. Finally, at the apex of threat lies those of both power and malice: witches and warlocks of the higher levels and even stranger groups of the dark. The Chapter for the Suppression of Vile Cults has been uncovered two most wicked groups in the last five years, both seeking to summon and worship a thing from beyond. Monumental fools, all of them, but they play with powers beyond their ken; should they succeed in opening some sort of portal, the Chapter of Forbidden Lore Research says that we would need to use a hydrogen bomb to seal it. Some sort of energy resonance apparently.”

“That is indeed serious, Witchfinder General, and something we cannot countenance. You are to pursue such groups and terminate their activities with extreme prejudice. Fire and sword.”

“That shall be done. On the matter of what our priorities should be? Do not give evil an inch in the daytime, for it will take whole yards at night.”

“Do we have any…indication…that this is linked to the Soviets at all?”

“No, Prime Minister. They have seen what Darkness and eschew it, even if not for the Light. Indeed, for these greater foes, they are in the same boat as us all. Setting aside our profane disagreements, there is evidence that they would stand with us against the fēond mancynnes when that hour may come.”

“Interesting. Light from the East, even.”

“Well, it has happened before.”

Reminds me of the The Foresight War by Anthony G. Williams where a person of the future together with also named the oversight committee changed history.