Hitler's cavalcade, create a diversion, and in the heat of combat our two German turncoats could turn their guns on Hitler's plane, making sure of our man in case the Typhoons - which were excellent aircraft but with very limited fuel capacity - could not get through in time.
All went like clockwork, except, as they say, for the millionth chance.
As it happened, as the German formation was setting forth and the British flight was just taking off, a young American aviator was muddling about alone over Northern France where he had no business being, and, spotting Hitler's plane from a distance, determined to have a go at it.
Thus, all was proceeding exactly as planned, until that bumptious Yank popped in without a by-your-leave, somehow shot down Hitler's plane under the indignant noses of his guardians, and took to his heels, leaving considerable consternation in his wake.
The two German turncoats immediately dove after the falling giant, determining at least to make sure of our man, although their efforts proved superfluous, as they were only in time to see the plane dig a great crater in a mangel-wurzel field. One of the pilots, understandably rattled, landed his fighter on a straight stretch of country road and commandeered a telephone, sending off a coded message to someone whom he fondly imagined to be with the German anti-Hitler movement, but who was in fact another of our agents. Tangerine informed us immediately, and the situation became quite interesting.
The entire programme had to be advanced by almost an hour, and all our valuable agents, Tangerine especially, were in extreme peril. As for the two Germans, they would just have to look out for themselves.
By dint of heroic efforts, Tangerine and her contacts were extracted from the furore which engulfed Berlin, and spirited back to England that night. Almost immediately, Hitler - or his doubl - went on the air to assure the German people that all was well with the world, and so forth. His speech was quite as incoherent and irrational as all of them had tended to be of late, so we could not tell if this were the real Hitler or the imitation, but either could probably serve our purposes as well.
At the same time, the young American, who might be expected to go skiting about in typical Yankee fashion about his exploit, was collared by our associates in the American OSS as quickly as he returned home, and promptly sent into isolation in one of our London facilities.
Poor Tangerine was shattered when she arrived for debriefing - entirely understandably, she was distraught at the sudden unraveling of our carefully-laid plans, and even anxious about the fate of her two German lovers, which, psychologically, was quite to be expected.
She expressed an interest in interviewing the young American pilot, to see whether he would be able to provide her with any indication of their fates.
As it turned out, the young fellow had been sworn to secrecy, and he was true as steel in that department. She copuld not get him even to admit he had been in the air that day, although the excellent and convincing pub setting we provided was entirely conducive to intimate conversation.
In fact, Tangerine needed comforting, and the young Yank had been a long time in combat, and what with one thing and another we did not see either of them again for a week...