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“Well now, Major Peniakoff is it? My take on this situation is as follows. You’re here on a Russian KA-40, which would have to come off a Russian naval unit at sea up north, correct? This man beside you here is clearly an officer in the Russian Navy, and that makes him, and you by extension, my prisoners of war. Now you can make this a whole lot easier if you would cooperate and tell me what you’re about.”

“Prisoners? Are you out of your mind? Yes, we came off this man’s ship-a Russian battlecruiser-and it’s up north in the Med just as you say, cruising right alongside HMS Invincible. Prisoners? The Russians are allies, General, or at least they claim to be. Where do you get off treating us as hostiles out here? And for that matter, I’m regular British Army, just like I’ve told you.” He folded his arms again, ready to stick up for himself and vouch for the Russians no matter how many stars were under this man’s crown.

“Look, Major, the Russians just lobbed a missile our way with the aim of toasting every man in this unit alive, so you’ll forgive me if I’m just a bit touchy about something like that. Lucky for us we got the damn things before they got us. Then I find you out here with a couple squads of Russian Naval Marines, and something tells me you were lasing targets for that ICBM. Didn’t think the Russkies would need to do something like that, but maybe they wanted to be extra careful, and here you are. Now what’s this talk about a Russian battlecruiser sailing alongside HMS Invincible? Old Vince was decommissioned in ’05 and scrapped, so you can scrap that line right along with her.”

He was referring to the modern day light aircraft carrier HMS Invincible, of course, nicknamed ‘Vince’ in the service. If this man thought the ship was still at sea, then it was a giveaway that something was rotten in Denmark here. He was going to find out what it was, one way or another.

“Scrapped?” said Popski. “You might try that one on Admiral John Tovey. He’s out there too, sir. Now, I’ve told you what we’re doing here and, begging the General’s pardon, you might think you’d have half a bone in your head and want your General O’Connor fetched back safe and sound. I’d expect cooperation from the Desert Rats out here, and not this sort of treatment from our own rank and file.” He gave the General an indignant look.

Now a Staff Officer, who had been listening to the whole interrogation, stepped up and quietly whispered something to General Kinlan, which prompted an odd reaction.

“You’re certain?” he said.

“I’ve just called it up on the library pad, sir. Have a look at this…” The man handed Kinlan something that looked to Popski like a small tea tray topped with a glass cover but, to his amazement, the thing lit up in color with a single touch of the General’s hand, and he watched as the man studied something there, then stared at him as though he were looking at a ghost.

“Peniakoff,” said Kinlan. “And you say you’re called Popski?” The library pad was opened to a file on the man. Though Kinlan could not believe this could be the same person, the resemblance to the man in the photograph was uncanny. What was going on here?

“Long Range Desert Group, you say?”

“Right, sir. We’re a new unit, set up by Major Bagnold and Captains Clayton and Shaw-all volunteers, just like me. Long Range Patrol was our first handle. Now we’re the L.R.D.G.”

Kinlan tapped at the strange thing he held in his hand, and Popski could not help leaning in to try and get a better look at it. Then the General gave Popski a long look, puzzled yet penetrating, as if he were trying to see beneath the man’s skin.

Fedorov had been listening, not following everything, but he did catch a few words, and one of them was ‘ICBM.’ He asked Popski what had been said about it.

“Just gibberish to me,” said Popski. “Something about us lazing about a target area or some such nonsense. The man doesn’t make any sense, and he’s looking at me like I was his long lost uncle or something. What in the world has happened? These aren’t the Desert Rats I know, and I know a good many. I heard Jock Campbell was out here with the Royal Horse Artillery, but these lads are way over the top. Get a look at those tanks. Bloody amazing! This has to be a special unit. Maybe something Wavell has kept under his hat to surprise old Rommel.”