Omega

She screwed up her eyes in a manner suggestive of incredulity. But incredulous of what? The very idea? Or the fact that he should question it?

Two ground crewmen and a trio of aides had appeared and were approaching. Giselle unbolted the door and slid it open. Cold air gushed in.

“Come,” she told him.

He clambered down after her on to the platform. She surrendered her luggage to one of the aides, whom she clearly knew well, and said she would join him shortly. Putting an arm through his, she led Owain away as if they were close companions.

Presently, when they were out of earshot, she said, “Tell me what happened.”

At every turn she was surprising him. He still had the feeling that she wasn’t taking him seriously, considered the whole thing a mere diversion. Which made it all the more vital that he was clear and concise in what he had to say to her.

“He turned up last night. More than a little drunk. Persuaded me to have dinner with him. We went to the Viceroy on the Strand. He talked about Omega, some kind of miracle weapon that was going to win the war. A means of folding up terrain, getting rid of it completely. He said that I’d field-tested it on the Minsk mission.”

Giselle led him to the parapet railings. There were extensive views out over the runways.

“So,” she remarked after a moment, “what was your reaction to this?”

“I didn’t say anything. Just asked questions.”

She eyed him. “But what did you think?”

“I thought it was madness. In more than one sense. Madness to have come up with such a preposterous story and expect me to believe it. Or, in the unlikely event that it did exist, madness to be revealing such a secret to an unauthorised person, brother or no.”

Giselle kept staring at him, a smile slowly gathering on her lips.

“You have a remarkably proper sense of duty, major.”

“Was he lying?”

“What do you think?”

“I began to suspect that it was all bluster, some sort of vainglorious attempt to impress me. But why would Rhys go to such lengths?”

“Why indeed?”

“Perhaps he has an ulterior motive, something none of us are aware of. Perhaps he wants to throw me off the scent.”

“Of what exactly?”

“I don’t know. But it may represent danger.”

Giselle appeared to give this serious consideration. “Was he lucid?”

“I think he might be dangerously unhinged. He’s never been a particularly stable character.”

She turned up the collar of her coat. “What do you remember of the mission he mentioned?”

“It’s hazy,” he admitted. “But why would I pretend ignorance of something I knew about to my own brother?”

“Perhaps you don’t trust him?”

“Well, I don’t deny it. Are you trying to tell me that what he said was true?”

She took his arm again, began walking him along the parapet. Snow had started to drizzle down from the sky.

“I’m not telling you anything of the sort,” she said. “Operational details are not my brief. Access to them is strictly limited.”

“Is it possible,” Owain said, “that there could be such a device as Rhys mentioned and that Sir Gruffydd doesn’t know about it?”

“I’ve learned to assume that anything’s possible,” Giselle said bluntly. “But your uncle is C-in-C of all Alliance forces here. He is effectively the head of state.”

“But what if someone’s deliberately trying to outmanoeuvre him? Or worse?”

“What do you mean?”

Feeling melodramatically furtive, Owain glanced around to ensure that no one was in hearing distance. The ground crew was inside the helicopter, well out of earshot. Otherwise the platform was deserted.

“I’ve no hard evidence,” he admitted. “It’s just a feeling. Generaloberst Blaskowitz was an ally of my uncle’s.”

“Sir Gruffydd had great admiration for him,” Giselle agreed.

“They talked together in Versailles about the limits of war and the need to find new solutions to the problems we face.”

She waited.

“Now tz is dead. Uncle was poisoned. I find this sinister.”

Snow was beginning to settle on the shoulders of her overcoat. “You suspect a conspiracy?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know. I think we need to be careful who we trust. I think my uncle’s life could still be at risk.”

He could tell that at last she was beginning to take him seriously.

“Do you have any other evidence?” she said after a moment.

He shook his head. “It’s more of a feeling that something might be brewing in the background.”

“So much of what you’ve told me is based on speculation rather than fact.”

“I know,” he conceded. “But presumably there are other members of the Council who don’t necessarily share uncle’s views on everything.”

“That’s inevitable. There are always differences of opinion.”

“Is it possible that those differences may have reached breaking point?”

Giselle was looking down over the jumble of Pelican transporters and Vantage interceptors that were parked in front of the airport buildings. No planes were coming or going on the runways.

“What is it you want me to do?” she asked.

“Warn Uncle. Tell him that something needs to be done about Rhys. I think it’s essential to establish if he’s sane. And, if so, where his loyalties truly lie.”

“Are you suggesting we arrest him?”