CODENAME: ATHENA (2025 Edition) by Michel Poulin - HTML preview

CHAPTER 27 – BATTLE PLANS

09:18 (GMT)

Tuesday, March 11, 1941

Hourglass Section, Home Office

London, England

Nancy was reading a progress report concerning Project Afterburner, the

program for an advanced jet engine, when somebody knocked on her door. Closing and

putting aside the secret file folder, she told her visitor to come in. Reginald Jones then

stuck his head in the doorway.

“Can I enter or is your trigger finger itchy today?”

“Come in, Doctor! What can I do for you?”

As an answer, Jones simply put a laser printer’s ink cartridge on her desk while smiling.

That was enough to make Nancy fly out of her chair in excitement.

“Don’t tell me that your chemist friend was able to duplicate the ink and reload

that printer cartridge.”

“He sure did and he says that he can guarantee it will be as good as new. Do

you want to try it?”

“You bet I do!”

Followed by Jones, Nancy went to the computer desk installed in a corner of the main

office of the Hourglass Section. Doug Wilson was working on her desktop computer at

the time. All the members of her section, including Jennifer Collins, were by now

thoroughly proficient in the use of her computer equipment and of the different software

programs contained in it.

“Excuse me, Doug, but I have to take the printer off-line for a moment.”

“No problem, Nancy. I don’t need it yet.”

Switching off her multifunction center, Nancy then replaced the now nearly empty laser

ink cartridge by the newly refilled one, then closed the machine and turned it on again.

“Doug, I need you to test that new printer ink cartridge. Choose any file and print

it.”

She crossed her fingers as Doug initiated a print program: if this reloaded cartridge didn’t

work properly, then her multifunction center would very soon become useless and the

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work efficiency of her office would take a dramatic plunge. She silently congratulated

herself for having produced copies of all her digital files in the past months by having a

photographer take a picture of each page of data directly from the computer’s screen. At

least they now had backup files in microfiche form in case of a major computer

malfunction.

The first printed page started to come out, face down. Nancy had to control

herself not to rip it off the printer. As calmly as she could, she turned the page over and

looked at it, her four assistants and Jennifer crowding around her. An immense relief

overtook her then: the print quality was the same as before. Looking at the four other

pages on the printer’s tray, she saw that the quality was also consistent. Without a word,

she turned to face Doctor Jones and gave him a hugging kiss, to the protestations of her

three other assistants. Nancy then handed to the blushing physicist the old ink cartridge.

“Please tell your friend that he did a superb job and ask him to also refill this unit

and the other one he still has.”

“Er, before I can do that, I have something else to show you.”

“HEY,” warned jokingly George Townsend, “NO DIRTY ACTS HERE, MISTER!”

“Will you sex maniacs calm down?” fumed the young scientist. Nancy, barely

controlling her laughter, patted Jones’ shoulder.

“Please ignore them, Doctor. What do you have for me?”

“A gift from the Marconi company.”

Jones went to a crate behind his desk and pulled out of it a standard British Army field

radio. It was a large, heavy and clumsy unit barely worthy of the qualification man-

portable. He then pulled out a much smaller radio less than one third the volume of the

first one and presented it to Nancy with obvious pride.

“This small radio is the transistorized version of the standard tube valve radio

there. We did what you said could not be done.”

Nancy took the radio and examined it with a look approaching reverence. The controls

were still clumsy by 2012 standards but it was definitely a vast improvement compared

to the bulky radio pack on Jones’ desk. Jones went on.

“Apart from being much more compact and weighing less than half the weight of

the original radio, it is much more dependable, has a longer battery life and is also more

powerful. While the Mean Time Between Failures, or MBTF in short, of the standard

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radio is measured in hours, the MBTF of the transistorized pack is measured in

hundreds of hours. Field signalers should love this.”

“I believe you, Doc.” said George Townsend as he examined the radio. “My old

platoon radioman would kiss you on your four cheeks to get this radio. Are the

frequencies compatible with the ones on the older set?”

“They are. The only real change was the replacement of the tube valves by

transistors.”

“Do you think that Marconi could produce quickly an ultra-compact, hand-held

radio unit for use by small-sized units?” asked Nancy. Jones thought about that for a

moment.

“I can’t see why not. It would have less range and a shorter battery life but they

probably could produce a radio that would fit in a battledress breast pocket.”

Townsend’s eyes opened wide with glee.

“Doc, you do that and it will be all the junior officers in the British Army lining up

to kiss your four cheeks.”

“Gee, can I take the doctor’s place then?” joked Nancy. Townsend looked at her

with a famished expression.

“Then, it will be the whole British Army lining up, including me.”

“Now now! Don’t tell me that my faithful assistants are having dirty dreams about

me.”

She then looked around at the four men who were now gazing at her with wishful eyes.

“Er, alright, let’s say that my last assumption was wrong. Can’t you guys get

married or something? You could then concentrate on your jobs instead of on my

chest.”

She shook her head in mock desperation when they answered her by grinning like idiots.

“Perverts, all! Doctor Jones, would you like to go and present your new radio to

General Ismay?”

The smile on Jones’ face was enough of an answer to her. Grabbing the older, bulkier

radio pack, she let the physicist lead the way out of the section’s office with the new

radio in his hands.

406

10:48 (GMT)

Friday, March 14, 1941

Public swimming pool, Endell Street, London

Jane Vernon saw as she entered the indoor pool hall that only a few people were

using it this morning, Walking to the lifeguard sitting in the elevated chair on one side of

the pool, the teenager patted the young man’s foot.

“You’re relieved, Jack. Go take your break.”

“Do you mind if I stay a while longer, Jane?”

That surprised the young blonde to no little degree: Jack Burton, skipping a break?

Suddenly suspicious about his reasons to stay, Jane looked at the people in the

swimming pool. Sure enough, a tall and athletic young woman was swimming lengths at

an impressive speed. In fact, most of the men in the pool simply watched her going from

end to end. Something was wrong about her, though.

“Jack, is she wearing a skin-colored bathing suit or what?”

“Yes, she does but…”

Jane looked at him with reprobation before walking to the opposite side of the pool to

examine more closely the swimmer. She stared open-mouthed when she saw that the

woman’s swimming suit looked a lot more like a combination of bra and panty rather

than the proper, standard one-piece female swimming suit. That swimming suit was

nothing less than scandalous. Ignoring the desperate signs from Jack Burton, Jane

yelled at the woman still speeding along in the pool.

“HEY, MISS, COULD YOU GET OUT OF THE WATER, NOW?”

The tall, black-haired woman pulled herself out of the water at the end of the pool and

walked towards Jane with an exasperated look on her face. Jane had to look up to face

the woman who, apart from appearing to be quite strong, was about six-foot-tall. She

then had a close look at the woman’s swimming suit. Consisting of a tiny top and of an

even tinier bottom piece which looked like they were glued to her body, it was made of a

light cream-colored fabric that let Jane see the dark protuberances of the woman’s

nipples.

“Miss, you will have to leave the pool. Your swimming suit is most improper.”

The woman’s green eyes glared at Jane, making her wince as if expecting to be hit.

“Miss, are you new here, or didn’t you hear about the understanding between me

and the director?”

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“What understanding?”

“I have an arrangement with your director that I will not be disturbed during my

exercises, except for calls from the Prime Minister’s Office. Now, why don’t you inform

yourself while I return to my swimming?”

The woman then dived back in the water without giving time to Jane to protest. Jane

was about to yell at her again when Jack Burton tapped her shoulder.

“Cool it, Jane! She is not to be disturbed: orders from the director.”

“But she is wearing less than what a prostitute would.”

“Don’t ever use that word about her again!” replied Jack forcefully. “That woman

is Nancy Laplante, the Canadian from the future.”

“So? That doesn’t give her the right to swim practically naked in public.”

By then, Jack looked like he was getting seriously pissed off at her.

“Listen, Jane! Colonel Laplante is helping us win this war and is a decorated

veteran. That swimsuit of hers was made in 2012, when social and moral customs are

quite different from now. That doesn’t make her a whore, though. Besides, the

director’s orders are quite clear: you leave her alone or you are fired.”

Jane tightened her jaws in frustrated anger.

“Anything else I should know?”

“Yes! Her pistol belt is hanging from the lifeguard’s chair. Just make sure that it

doesn’t disappear and don’t touch it.”

“What the hell is she doing with a pistol here?”

“Protecting herself, you nitwit! There have been already three assassination

attempts against her. Don’t you read newspapers?”

“Alright, go take your break: I will watch her pistol.”

“Good!”

Jane slowly walked to the lifeguard’s chair while watching Laplante swim. She had to

say that the Canadian displayed a level of physical fitness worthy of Olympic standards.

Jane examined briefly the gun belt hanging from the chair before sitting in it and starting

her watch. Laplante got out of the water half an hour later and picked up her gun belt

without a word before leaving the pool hall.

After showering and changing into her Lycra exercise outfit, Nancy went to the

small but well-equipped gymnasium which was part of the sports complex. The gun belt

was strapped around her waist, exercise session or not. She went to a large trampoline

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and waited for the teenager using it to finish. It was the lifeguard who had been replaced

by the young twit in the pool. The moment he saw her, the young man stopped jumping

and climbed down from the trampoline, offering her its use. When Nancy told him to

continue, he insisted.

“Please, Maam, go on it. I heard that you were pretty good at it and I would like

to see it by myself.”

“In that case…”

Jack soon found out that she was much more than just pretty good. He applauded when

she jumped down ten minutes later.

“Where did you learn to use a trampoline like this, Miss Laplante?”

She passed a hand on her sweaty forehead before answering, obviously flattered.

“I was top in my gymnastics classes at the university. Also, skydiving does a lot

to develop your sense of orientation.”

“Skydiving? What’s that?”

“Parachuting from high altitude and freefalling most of the way down before

opening your parachute. How old are you, if I may ask?”

“Sixteen, miss. I am still too young for military service. About the incident in the

pool, please excuse Jane for her reaction: she does not normally do watches on Fridays

and didn’t know about you.”

“That’s already forgotten. Now, I need a partner to hold that punching bag over

there. Would you be interested?”

“Certainly, miss!”

Not believing his good fortune, Jack ran to the big punching bag suspended from a

beam and went behind it, holding it with both hands. Nancy took position on the

opposite side of the bag and adopted a stance that puzzled Jack.

“That’s not a proper boxing position, miss.”

“I’m not boxing either. I practice an oriental martial art called karate. Beware, the

bag is going to take a beating, so hang tight.”

Both her blood-freezing scream and lighting quick leg kick on the punching bag nearly

stunned him. He had to anchor himself with all his strength to keep the punching bag

from flying out of his grip under the series of savage blows she gave with both her feet

and fists. Two men, who were practicing boxing in a corner of the gymnasium, stopped

to watch her beat on the bag. A last flying kick proved to be too much for Jack, who was

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thrown back by the punching bag. Both of the onlookers applauded as Jack took back

control of it. The older man shook the hand of Nancy, an enthusiastic grin on his face.

“That was quite a demonstration, Colonel Laplante. By the way, I’m Major John

Fielders, of the Grenadier Guards, and this is Captain Mark Smith, my second in

command.”

“Pleased to meet you.” said Nancy politely as she shook hands with Smith. “Do you think that you could teach this kind of fighting technique to our men?”

Asked Smith.

“I would love to, Captain. However, I’m afraid that I’m kept so busy that I do not

have any time left for it. I’m truly sorry.”

Fielders nodded his head in comprehension.

“I can believe you, Colonel. We are now fully reequipped with your new weapons,

including the assault armor and the new infantry fighting vehicles. Our regiment is now

packing quite a bigger punch, thanks to your equipment. We are just dying to try it in

combat, though.”

Nancy smiled devilishly as she looked at his eager face.

“How influent is your commandant, Major? I was looking for candidates for a

really crazy idea I’ve been cooking up in my head for weeks now.”

Fielders’ grin became even wider.

“Colonel, our commandant is no less than the King himself.”

“Oh, I suppose that should do.”

The three of them laughed together. Nancy then lowered her voice and showed a

deserted corner of the gymnasium.

“Let’s talk a bit away from other ears.”

Once in the corner, she lowered her voice even more.

“What I have in mind would actually be a job for a complete brigade. Do you

think that the other Guards regiments would like to go?”

One look at Fielders’ and Smith’s expressions convinced her.

“Alright, that was a stupid question. Are all Guards regiments fully equipped with

new weapons and vehicles?”

Fielders reviewed mentally some status reports before answering her.

“Well, all seven Guards regiments now have the new portable weapons. Both

the Blues and Royals and the Life Guards have their full complement of CHARGER

tanks, while us, the Coldstreams, the Welsh and the Scots Guards are fully equipped

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with the WOLVERINE infantry fighting vehicle and its variants. The Irish Guards are

halfway through their reequipment.”

“Excellent! Now, the idea I’m going to tell you about has not been seen or

approved by anybody. It may still be shot down the moment I present it, so I will ask you

not to talk about this with anybody. Wait until I contact you again before telling anyone

about my plan. Here is my idea…”

She whispered for a good five minutes, then looked at Fielders and Smith with

anticipation. Both officers looked shocked and awed by now.

“Colonel,” finally said Fielders, “I now see why the guys at Combined Operations

Headquarters call you Dirty Tricks Nancy. This is the most devious, kick in the teeth

idea for an operation I ever heard. I love it!”

“In that case, I propose a name for it, if it ever gets off the ground: Operation

BACKSTABBER.”

“Perfect!” Said both Guards officers at the same time.

16:56 (GMT)

Friday, March 21, 1941

Athena Section, Home Office building

Reginald Jones raised his eyes from the October 2012 edition of the International

Defense Review when the two guards outside came to attention. Nancy Laplante then

entered the office, her computer carrying case in one hand and a big smile on her face.

Her triumphant yell made Jennifer Collins, who was typing a report with her back to the

door, jump in her chair.

“OPERATION BACKSTABBER IS A GO! THEY BOUGHT IT LOCK, STOCK

AND BARREL!”

A concert of cheers and applauses greeted her announcement, with everybody in the

office rushing to her to congratulate her. They all got a kiss on the cheek from the

jubilant Nancy in exchange.

“So, when will it be?” asked George Townsend.

“Probably not before another month. In fact, what Bletchley Park deciphers will

do a lot in deciding the actual date of the operation. By the way, how many German

divisions have been moved eastward towards the Soviet border by now, according to

ULTRA intercepts, Reginald?”

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“We are close to 200 divisions by now, Nancy. What is left along the French

coast is meager indeed.”

“Excellent! The less there is on the Western front, the easier it will be for

Operation BACKSTABBER. Now, I need three volunteers to fill positions for the

operation. Who is ready to kiss ass to go?”

In less than five seconds she had three officers and one scientist on their knees and

lined up in front of her. The two military policemen inside the office looked at each other

with knowing smiles: Since they had started to be on duty at the Athena Section, they

had learned not to take that crazy group of officers too seriously during the lighter

moments of the day. When working on a task, that was another matter. Nancy gently

took Doug Wilson and Reginald Jones out of the lineup with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, Doug. That is a ground combat mission: your limp could get you killed.

As for you, Reginald, I need somebody to run the office and who knows how to use this

computer equipment.”

Facing again the dejected Wilson, she patted his shoulder.

“Doug, if it can make you happy, I booked you with A.V. Roe to be copilot for the

initial flight tests of our first helicopter prototype. You’re leaving in a week for intensive

familiarization classes at A.V. Roe.”

Doug was speechless at first. Then his eyes became moist as he vigorously shook

Nancy’s hand.

“Nancy, do you know what this means to me, to fly again?”

“I know, Doug. You deserve it.”

They hugged each other for a few seconds. Nancy then looked at George Townsend.

“Major Townsend, a top Royal Commando officer like you should not be wasted

on paperwork. I gained approval from General Joubert to have you lead the raiding

team on objective number four. You will have a lot of stuff to blow up!”

“YES!” Shouted Townsend enthusiastically. Nancy looked next at Peter Stilwell,

still kneeling in front of her.

“Mister Stilwell, how would you like to go wallow in the Kriegsmarine

headquarters’ secret papers?”

“I would love to, Nancy.”

“Then you’re it for objective number one.”

“What about you, Nancy?” Asked a suddenly apprehensive Reginald Jones.

“Which objective are you taking?”

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“I will go on objective number six, Doc.”

The room suddenly became very still. Stilwell finally spoke for everybody.

“Why objective number six, Nancy? I still don’t think that the risks there are worth

the results.”

“Why? Because that will give me a chance to work with French Army troops.

Who else here speaks perfect French?”

22:03 (GMT)

Apartment 11, 24 St James’ Place

London

Nancy finally unglued herself from Mike after their last coupling and rolled on her

side of the bed with a contented smile, while both were glistening with sweat from the

long session of passionate lovemaking. One extra nice thing Nancy found about Mike

was that, being a non-smoker like her, he would not like some of her past lovers ruin

good fun by lighting a cigarette and fill the room with the acrid smell of tobacco.

However, this was one night where she was going to have to be the pleasure killer.

“Mike, I’m afraid that I have to tell you something you may not like.”

The American tensed up immediately as he stared at her.

“You have to go on a mission in Europe, is that it, Nancy?”

She caressed his concerned face, her eyes sparkling with tenderness.

“Mike, you don’t have to worry about that mission. I’m not going to play lonely

pathfinder this time. I will be part of a big operation and will be well protected. Anyway,

it is only in two months’ time.”

Mike looked at her silently and then hugged her in his powerful arms.

“Please be careful, Nancy.”

“I will, I promise you.”

11:19 (GMT)

Saturday, March 29, 1941

Apartment 11, 24 St James’ Place

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‘’Very good, Ingrid! You are really making amazing progress in your studies.

Let’s pack your things now and run to the Tower of London before someone there

becomes suspicious about us.’’

‘’Uh, before we go, could I ask you a question?’’ said Ingrid, hesitant and fearing

that Nancy would think she was crazy. Nancy, who had gotten up from the sofa and was

going towards the door of her apartment, stopped and pivoted to face her.

‘’Go ahead, Ingrid. What is bothering you?’’

‘’Nancy, I have had nightmares for about a month now. They leave me agitated

and covered with sweat, apart from bringing to me strange souvenirs.’’

Ingrid was surprised in turn by the reaction of Nancy, who hurried to join her on the sofa

and to take hold of her hands.

‘’What kind of souvenirs, Ingrid?’’

‘’Visions of the lives of people from the past. Those visions started with the life of

an American black slave dead in 1876. They then followed each other from

progressively further in the past. I…I believe that I now have attained a sort of limit, as I

have not had visions from a further life since about a week. Do you have any idea of

what those visions could be, Nancy?’’

Instead of answering her, Nancy asked her a question on an urgent tone.

‘’Those visions, did they give you the ability to speak a number of ancient

languages?’’

Ingrid did a double take, shocked.

‘’How could you know that, Nancy?’’

Nancy looked herself overwhelmed as she answered.

‘’Ingrid, I have lived through such visions for a month as well, starting the night

after you accepted to be adopted by me and Mike.’’

‘’But my visions also started that same night. What is happening to us?’’

Nancy hesitated before exposing a theory that had come to her mind after a week of

visions.

‘’Ingrid, I believe that, for an unknown reason, we both started to remember our

past incarnations. You know about the Hindu concept of reincarnation?’’

‘’Yes!’’ said weakly Ingrid while lowering her head. ‘’I also thought about that but

believed it to be too fantastic…until now. The most ancient life I can remember is as a

nomadic woman who lived in the Sumer region of the Middle East, about 7,000 years

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ago. The life that shook me most was however that of an Egyptian slave girl bought by

the great patriarch Abraham, over 3,500 years ago.’’

Nancy’s reaction at those words stunned Ingrid, who found herself suddenly in her arms,

with Nancy crying profusely while speaking in Ancient Sumerian.

‘’Agar! You were Agar! My god, I meet you again after chasing you away so

many centuries ago.’’

‘’Sarai? Is that you?’’ asked Ingrid, also in Ancient Sumerian. Nancy, her eyes

full of tears, went at arm’s length to look at her with infinite tenderness.

‘’The last time I saw you, I was chasing you and your son Ishmael in the desert.

If you knew how much remorse I felt after committing that injustice. That we were able

to meet again after all these millenniums is nothing short of a miracle.’’

Ingrid then also burst out in tears and hugged Nancy, overwhelmed by this revelation.