The Unlikely Spy(100)

"Yes, thank you."

"What I am about to tell you is highly classified," Boothby began. "Very few people even know of its existence--a handful of top invasion planners and the men on the project itself. Even I knew only the barest details. Until today, that is."

Boothby reached inside his briefcase, withdrew a chart, and spread it over the surface of the desk. He put on his reading glasses, which he had never worn in Vicary's presence, and used his gold pen as a pointer.

"Here are the beaches of Normandy," he began, tapping the map with his pen. "Here is the Baie de la Seine. The invasion planners have concluded that the only way to bring men and supplies ashore quickly enough to sustain the operation is through a large, fully functioning harbor. Without one, the invasion would be a complete fiasco."

Vicary, listening intently, nodded.

"There is just one problem with a harbor--we aren't planning on capturing one," Boothby said. "The result is this." Boothby reached inside his briefcase again and withdrew another chart of the same section of the French coast, except this one had a series of markings depicting a structure along the shoreline. "It's called Operation Mulberry. We're constructing two complete artificial harbors here in Britain and towing them across the Channel on D-Day."

"Good Lord," Vicary muttered.

"You're about to be inducted into a very small fraternity, Alfred. Pay close attention." Boothby was using his pen as a pointer again. "These are giant steel floats that will be moored a couple of miles from the coastline. They're designed to dampen the waves as they roll toward shore. Here, they're going to sink several old merchantmen in a line to create a breakwater. That part of the operation is code-named Gooseberry. These are floating roadways with pier heads at the end. The Liberty ships will dock at the pier heads. The supplies will be loaded directly onto trucks and brought to shore."

"Remarkable," Vicary said.

"The backbone of the entire project is these things, here, here, and here," Boothby said, tapping three points on the chart with his pen. "Their code name is Phoenix. They do not rise, however. They sink. They're giant concrete and steel caissons that will be towed across the Channel and sunk in a row to create an inner breakwater. They are the most critical component of Operation Mulberry." Boothby hesitated a moment. "Commander Peter Jordan is assigned to that operation."

"My God," Vicary muttered.

"It gets worse, I'm afraid. The Phoenix project is in trouble. They're planning to build one hundred and forty-five of them. The structures are huge--sixty feet high. Some have their own crew quarters and antiaircraft batteries. They require immense amounts of concrete, steel reinforcement, and highly skilled labor. The project has been hampered with shortages of raw materials and construction delays from the beginning."

Boothby folded up the charts and locked them in his desk drawer.

"Last night Commander Peter Jordan was ordered to tour the construction sites in the south and make a realistic assessment of whether the Phoenix units can be completed on time. He walked out of Forty-seven Grosvenor Square with a briefcase chained to his wrist. Inside that briefcase were the plans for the Phoenixes."

"Good God Almighty!" Vicary said. "Why the hell did he do that?"

"His family owns the home he's living in here in London. There's a secure safe inside. SHAEF Intelligence inspected it and gave it their stamp of approval."

Vicary thought, None of this would have happened if Boothby had passed along my damned security alert! He said, "So if Commander Jordan has been compromised it's possible a major portion of the plans for Operation Mulberry have fallen into German hands."

"I'm afraid so," Boothby said. "And there's more bad news. Mulberry, by its nature, could betray the secret of the invasion. The Germans know we need ports to successfully carry out an invasion of the Continent. They expect us to stage a frontal assault on a port and reopen it as quickly as possible. If they discover we're building an artificial harbor--some means of circumventing the heavily fortified ports of Calais--they may very well conclude we're coming at Normandy."

"My God! Who in the bloody hell is Commander Peter Jordan?"

Boothby dug in his briefcase again. He brought out a thin file and tossed it across the desk. "He used to be the chief engineer at the Northeast Bridge Company. It's one of the largest bridge construction companies in America. He's considered something of a wunderkind. He was brought onto Operation Mulberry because of his experience overseeing large construction projects."

"Where is he now?"

"Still in the south inspecting the sites. He's due back at Grosvenor Square at seven o'clock. He was supposed to meet with Eisenhower and Ismay at eight o'clock to brief them on his findings. I want you and Harry to pick him up at Grosvenor Square--very quietly--and take him to the house at Richmond. We'll question him there. I want you to handle the interrogation."

"Thank you, Sir Basil." Vicary rose.

"At the very least you're going to need Jordan's help to roll up your network."

"True," Vicary said. "But we may need more help, depending on the extent of the damage."

"You have an idea, Alfred?"

"The beginnings of one." Vicary rose. "I'd like to see the inside of Jordan's house before I question him. Any objections?"