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“Thank you,” she said. “That is, I hope so.”

There were chuckles as Charity pushed a button on the wall behind her. A moment later, two men came through the swinging door. They quickly cleared the table of everything but silverware and the side table of everything but the coffee and tea services.

[THREE]

“Ewen,” Lieutentant Ed Stevens began, “I think it would be a good idea if you gave everyone an overview of what has been going on, what has happened up to our coming here with”—he glanced at Major David Niven—“the, ah, about-to-be-named body.”

“Very well,” the lieutenant commander said and motioned to the Duchess that she was welcome to take his seat.

The Duchess smiled her thanks, poured herself a cup of tea at the side table, then settled into Montagu’s chair as he began.

“Right now,” Montagu said, “Hitler knows two things: one, that the Allies will not stop after taking Tunisia, and, two, that we could come in through any Nazi-occupied country or any neutral country. What he does not know is that, barring any major developments, the Allied strategy is to invade the island of Sicily, then go into Italy. This, of course, comes as no real surprise to anyone—”

Fleming interrupted: “Even Winston Churchill has said that ‘anybody but a damn fool would know it is Sicily.’”

There were nods around the table.

“And it’s our job,” Montagu went on, “not to let that damn fool Hitler see that. Or at least believe it.”

There were appreciative chuckles.

Montagu continued: “As we all well know, when something is indeed planned it is hard to keep a lid on it. ‘Loose lips sink ships,’ that sort of thing. Hitler has sympathetic ears in places high and low just waiting to intercept and pass along any news of Allied intentions.”

Like the Manhattan Project, Charity thought, then glanced at Ed Stevens. When she saw him return the glance, she wondered if he had had the same thought.

“Which is why

we came up with the idea for this deception,” Montagu added.

“Deceptions, plural,” Niven said.

“Yes,” Montagu said. “David is of course correct. There are other minor ruses de guerre in play. One, for example, concerns Sir Henry Wilson. The field marshal’s army, as you know, under General Montgomery and based in Egypt, is making motions so as to look as if it is preparing to invade Greece, with the continued threat of advancing up through the Balkans. That should get Hitler’s attention.”

“In support of that,” Ed Stevens offered, “some of our agents at London Station for the last month have had their contacts not so quietly buy up all the Greek drachmas they can get their hands on. Collecting so much currency has gotten the attention of, as you put it, those with the sympathetic ears. It wouldn’t surprise me if that information is already in Berlin.”

Stevens looked at Charity and Jamison, and added, “Some of our agents here soon will be training to work with the Greek Resistance. We’ll send them in to help increase operations to draw the Germans’ attention from Operation Husky. That’s so that when the Germans swallow Mincemeat and they begin shifting, say, armored divisions to Greece, we’ll blow railroads and highways, forcing them to move more slowly with the tanks under their own power.”

Montagu nodded.

“All pieces of the larger puzzle,” he said. “And our piece of deceit is the biggest, the one we devoutly hope will convince Hitler and his planners beyond any doubt, causing them not to reinforce the defense of Sicily.”

“We’re going to accomplish that with a frozen cadaver?” Bob Jamison said, incredulously.

The Duchess was sipping tea. She almost dropped her cup when she heard that. She turned quickly to look at Jamison, then at Montagu.

“I suppose it’s too late for me to excuse myself?” she said lightly.

Montagu had not missed her reaction.

“We have preserved in a sealed steel case in the basement,” he said to her,“the body of a man who we will outfit with certain papers that—again, we devoutly hope—will deceive the Germans.”

“My home is now a morgue,” she said wistfully before taking another sip of tea.

“I would not put it that way,” Montagu said carefully. “What we will do with the body here is create the appropriate cover—papers, uniform, and other accoutrements—then a week or so from now, take it to sea.”

“Interesting,” the Duchess said, nodding.

“But I’m getting quite ahead of myself.” He reached down to the table for his cup of tea, took a sip, then returned the cup to its saucer and went on: “Our ultimate mission is to have, quote, most secret, unquote, information—disinformation—on the true plans for Operation Husky fall into the hands of those sympathetic to Hitler. It will then find its way to the German High Command, where it will be judged credible and acted upon.”