Under the Moon Gate

by Marilyn Baron

  “You’ve got blood on your shirt,” William observed irritably, “and a nasty gash on your face.”

  Nighthawk smiled and answered, “The lady likes to play rough.”

  “This is insanity,” William grumbled to Nighthawk, expressing his frustration at his associate’s tardiness and unconscionable behavior, as well as the latest war news. “You know, as well as I do, they couldn’t have picked a worse time to move. Germany will be declaring war any day now, and after we attack, the United States will unleash its wrath on Bermuda like an angry tiger just released from its cage.”

  “As I see it, this is our only window of opportunity,” Nighthawk maintained. “The Americans won’t be able to mobilize fast enough, and we are not yet at war with them. They won’t stand in our way.”

  “A month ago we could have waltzed right in, and now we’ll be forced to fight,” William pointed out as they reached their destination and left the car.

  “Are you saying we should not follow orders?” Nighthawk challenged.

  William calculated the odds before speaking.

  “Are you doubting my loyalty?” William seethed, raising himself up to his full height.

  “Of course not,” Nighthawk retreated gingerly.

  “I’ve already cut off all communications to and from the island,” William acknowledged. “Everyone is in position. But according to Vice Admiral Hargrave the British are now on full alert because of Pearl Harbor. Once they get wind of our plans, they will request America’s help. The U.S. won’t be able to refuse. They’ll dispatch destroyers. We can still put a stop to this.”

  “Our subs will act as a buffer,” Nighthawk argued. “Once they land their troops on the island to temporarily secure the airfield, they can go back out to sea and greet the British and American destroyers before they ever reach us.”

  “Do you think a small contingent of subs surrounding a tiny island will stand up to the lethal force of the American fleet?” William countered. “The Americans will be rendezvousing with the British, and our U-boats will be crushed in the middle. Bermuda will be caught in the crossfire. We don’t have the manpower in place to handle the onslaught that’s sure to come.”

  “We have the element of surprise,” Nighthawk reminded his superior. “Our transport planes have already taken off from the landing strip on the coast of Spain with enough men and equipment to handle any challenge. Once we’ve taken over the airstrip here, our reinforcements will be able to land and offer support. It’s a brilliant plan. It was your plan, if I remember correctly.”

  “I don’t like the odds now,” William muttered.

  “You have a lot to lose,” Nighthawk observed perceptively. William’s objections were masking a fear that went straight to his heart. Nighthawk wasn’t questioning William’s bravery or loyalty or even his fear of defeat. “You don’t like the personal consequences. Your new identity fits you like a second skin, but I gather it’s getting a bit snug.”

  Nighthawk was right.

  “You can’t stop it now,” Nighthawk said simply.

  William was at a crossroads. He didn’t doubt the operation would be successful. It was success that he most feared. Once the Germans occupied Bermuda, he would be in charge of the operation. There would be no hiding his identity. When Diana learned who he was, what he had done, she would never forgive him. Her father would want to break him apart with his bare hands. The man he was just now beginning to regard as a father would look on him with disdain. William rubbed his fingers across his throat, trying to erase the sensation of an ever-tightening noose.

  From his vantage point, William could see a great deal of the island. He studied the sparkling sea at the Hamilton waterfront. It was quiet now, but soon the island would be rocked with explosions. He surveyed the sun dancing on the waves as they crashed to shore and lapped at the pink, sandy beaches. He scanned whitewashed roofs that topped colorfully painted houses high on the hills. His eyes followed the slow progress of a ferry on its way to its first stop at Somerset Bridge, skipped over the fishermen hauling their pots against the wind, and the sails of sleek pleasure boats. And he knew things in his world would never be the same again.

  In an earthly paradise where there were normally no worries, people would soon be burrowed in, frightened of the unknown, with visions of Pearl Harbor overshadowing their every thought. These were strong, independent people, born of pirates and seafarers. People he had come to admire and respect in a land he had come to love. They weren’t just statistics anymore. How many people would have to die to secure this strategic toehold in the mid-Atlantic for Germany?

  In war, William knew, all bets were off. He couldn’t protect anything or anyone, not even his beloved Diana. He had spent his entire time in Bermuda preparing the island for readiness, reviewing military strategies, and perfecting plans. He hadn’t really stopped to consider the personal consequences of the action he was about to take and how that would affect his relationship with Diana. Now, thoughts of Diana clouded his mind. He desperately needed her in his life. But now she would slip away. And he was powerless to do anything about it.

  “Should I signal the subs?” Nighthawk asked. He was greeted with stern silence and William’s stiff back. “We’re wasting time, and soon we’ll be losing the light. The subs will be waiting for our orders.”

  In a flash, William made up his mind and rushed to act on his decision before he could change it.

  “You continue to monitor the situation,” William instructed, ignoring the anger building in Nighthawk’s eyes and registering on his face. “I have somewhere to go.”

  “Now?” Nighthawk was outraged. “Your presence is needed here. Give me the order!”

  William ignored him, jumped into the car, and drove toward the Royal Naval Dockyard on Ireland Island. The afternoon traffic was starting to build. People were apparently beginning to panic and going out to get emergency supplies when they should have been staying off the streets. Military and civilian traffic was starting to clog the highways. It was a long drive to the far side of the island. He knew he was racing against the clock.

  “I need to speak to Vice Admiral Hargrave,” William barked to the guard as he drove up to the fortress forty-five minutes later. William had been there numerous times, and he was recognized at once.

  “Is the vice admiral expecting you, Mr. Whitestone?”

  “No, but I must speak to him. It’s urgent.”

  “Certainly,” the guard responded, handing him a pass.

  William rushed though the gate as soon as it creaked opened. Several times he had thought about turning around. But he was here now, and he would follow through with his plan.

  He was escorted to the vice admiral’s outer office. His secretary smiled and told William that his father-in-law was deep in a meeting with his staff.

  “It’s an emergency!” William insisted.

  “It’s not Diana or Mrs. Hargrave, is it?” the secretary’s face registered alarm.

  “No, but I must speak to him now!”

  She had never seen William look so rattled, and he was a man with a forceful personality, so she stepped into the conference room and signaled her boss. The vice admiral came right out.

  “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I need to talk to you, privately,” William apologized.

  “Of course, William,” the vice admiral greeted him warmly, pounding him on the back. “I’m right in the middle of something, but—”

  “This won’t take long. It’s a rather delicate matter.”

  “I’ll be right back,” the vice admiral called to the gathering of uniformed men in his conference room as he led William into an outer office and shut the door.

  “How are the women holding up? I thought you’d be holed up in your office trying to get the lights back on.”

  “They were fine the last time I saw them, and my very capable staff is attempting to do just that. We’re having a bit of trouble restoring the power.”

  “Have you determin
ed the cause yet?” the vice admiral asked.

  William paled before he spoke.

  “It was undoubtedly sabotage,” William responded. On alert, his father-in-law began pacing, clasping his hands behind his back.

  “I was afraid of that, son. And the source? Japan?”

  Sweat was pouring from William’s brow. He clenched a fist at his side and plowed forward.

  “Germany,” William stated.

  The vice admiral’s eyes narrowed.

  “Have you alerted the police?”

  “My own security team is handling it,” William assured him. “Sir, when I went into the office this afternoon, I came across some sensitive information, vital communiqués that I thought you should be aware of. The intelligence came in earlier, before the telephone lines went out. When I put them together it painted a rather grim picture.”

  “Where did you get this information?” the vice admiral wanted to know.

  “As a practice, for national security purposes, in times of war, we…uh…have been monitoring phone calls,” William continued.

  “And you’d just as soon no civilians know about that,” noted the vice admiral.

  “Precisely,” William breathed in relief. “People naturally might be concerned about privacy, their rights.”

  “I completely understand,” said the vice admiral. William wondered if his father-in-law was aware of just how flagrantly rights were already being violated in the basement of the Princess Hotel. Any suspicious letters coming in by plane from Europe or America were inspected, decoded, resealed, and sent back on the plane before it left for its final destination. The data was then transmitted to Berlin. The British were doing the same thing, transmitting their information to New York.

  “Sometimes, subterfuge is necessary in times of war,” stated the vice admiral. “Individual freedoms sometimes have to be sacrificed to achieve the overall goal of protecting the country from aggressors from within and without.”

  “At any rate, regardless of how I came across this information, I’ve learned that, at this very moment, a squadron of German transport planes, carrying troops and equipment, is winging its way from the coast of Spain and is due to arrive in Bermuda in a matter of hours.”

  The vice admiral stared at William.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t press me for the source.”

  “Strange, but we’ve just received the same information from one of our operatives at the Princess Hotel. She called it in an hour ago and requested to be picked up. She said she was in trouble.”

  William rubbed his jaw.

  “We’ve found several caches of explosives, set to go off at critical points around the island,” William said. “My team is dismantling them.”

  The vice admiral was astounded.

  “And there’s more.”

  Now it was William’s turn to pace.

  “German U-boats are positioned in a tight circle around the island, locking us in.”

  “Why wasn’t I aware of this?” the vice admiral fumed.

  “I imagine it just happened as a result of the attack on Pearl. And I don’t think the timing was coincidental. There’s no doubt the Germans are working in tandem with the Japanese. They strike at Pearl, and the Germans follow by taking Bermuda on the same day, effectively choking England off.”

  William hoped his father-in-law believed the blatant lie. He had indeed been monitoring communications and had intercepted the B-Dienst message, dated today, informing Hitler of the surprise attack. So he knew with certainty that the German leader and his high command had been stunned at the treacherous Japanese action at Pearl Harbor. He also knew that Admiral Karl Dönitz, commander in chief of U-boats, was even now suggesting to the Führer that he deploy a U-boat strike on the doorstep of the east coast of the United States. His rationale was that the superior German submarine fleet could deliver a solid blow to the unprepared and vulnerable Americans with their fleet of obsolete warships. Hitler was still pressing for Bermuda as the first choice for a planned attack.

  “This is disastrous,” yelled the vice admiral. “We’re being invaded! It’s another surprise attack.”

  “It appears that way,” William agreed. “When I put everything together, the pieces seemed to fit. I thought you would be the best person to tell, since it’s not my area. I knew you could handle it.”

  “I appreciate that, son.” The vice admiral shook his son-in-law’s hand. “William, you just may have saved Bermuda.”

  “I would be grateful if you wouldn’t tell anyone about my involvement,” William said, feigning modesty.

  “Of course not, if that’s what you wish. But I am indebted to you.”

  “Sir, what are you going to do about this?”

  William could see the wheels spinning in the vice admiral’s head.

  “We’ll need a coordinated plan of action,” his father-in-law said. “I’m going to contact the other branches.”

  “This is not my purview, but the transport planes?” William interjected, trying not to be too obvious, as he imagined the formation of Heikel 111’s, Germany’s “Secret Bombers,” speeding toward Bermuda. Produced in Spain, modified for increased range, and specially outfitted for transport, the former airliners carried enough troops to complete the beginning stages of the mission.

  “German transport planes don’t have the range to make that trip,” the vice admiral reasoned.

  “I’m not exactly sure of their range, but why take the chance?” William continued, trying not to appear too eager. “I doubt if they’ll have enough fuel to return to Spain if they get much farther. They’ll have to land in Bermuda, unless you can get them to turn around now!”

  “Excellent point, son.”

  “I assume you’re going to alert the United States, have them dispatch all the battleships they have in the area,” William prompted.

  “I’ve got my work cut out for me. I’m going back to charge my staff. We’re going after some U-boats.”

  “I’ll get out of your way, then,” William said, turning to leave. “I’ll have my hands full at the power plants.”

  “Thank you for your contribution. I’m proud to call you my son.” The vice admiral embraced William. In William’s mind, Sir Stirling Hargrave could not have paid him a greater compliment. Or made him feel so utterly unworthy.

  William’s heart pounded in his chest, and he hoped his father-in-law couldn’t hear it. He got into his car and headed out of the complex. He had done his part. Sir Stirling and his team would have to handle the rest. If his hunch was correct, by the time he made it back to St. George’s, the German subs would be alerted to the presence of the British and American destroyers in the area. Once they realized they were exposed and vulnerable, they would radio a message to their contact, who would in turn redirect the transport planes. It was just too risky for the operation to go forward now.

  William didn’t speed on the return trip. He wasn’t anxious to get back to Nighthawk, but he had an urgent need to see his wife. He needed to hold her, be with her, and let her know that everything was all right now. That she was safe with him.

  As he stared out to sea, he imagined himself in one of the Unterseeboots when the alarm signal sounded from the Zentrale ordering an emergency crash-dive. He wished he were with them. He loved the thrill of the chase. He sincerely hoped he hadn’t jeopardized the lives of any of the crews, especially his friend Karl, and that they would slip away before they ever had to hear the call to battle stations, “Auf Gefechtsstationen!” He could breathe easier now, confident he had saved lives on both sides.

  “Where have you been?” Nighthawk demanded furiously when William returned.

  “I had some business to take care of.”

  “At such a critical time?”

  “It was related to the mission.”

  Nighthawk sneered before he announced, “The mission has been aborted.”

  “What?” William sh
outed, feigning anger and surprise. “When?”

  “A few minutes ago. I got a message from Kapitänleutnant Krauss. They were forced to break radio silence. The U-boats are on their way out to sea. They’ve been redirected to patrol the U.S. east coast. The transport planes from Spain have been ordered to turn around in mid-flight. I’m having the team dismantle the explosives. We are instructed to have our people restore communications and electric service to the island.”

  “And the operation?”

  “Delayed indefinitely, according to the message transmitted from Herr Krauss,” Nighthawk informed his superior with disgust. “Essentially, we’re dead in the water.”

  William breathed a sigh of relief at the message from the radioman but tried his best to appear disappointed.

  “All that work, all that planning,” William sighed. “We’ll never have another opportunity like this one.”

  “You’ve changed your tune now that you’re out of danger,” Nighthawk said. “You’re not fooling me at all, Wilhelm.”

  William didn’t bother to respond to his subordinate’s insolence. He hadn’t asked for this assignment. Hadn’t wanted it. It had been thrust upon him by Canaris. He had been lured into it, courted, charmed by his former commander. Neither of them had much respect for Hitler, but William had not refused what he clearly saw as his duty to his country.

  “I’ll be at home if you need to reach me,” William said, dismissing Nighthawk before he walked away.

  “Wait.” Nighthawk stopped him, but seemed to hesitate. He knew something about Wilhelm von Hesselweiss. He was the keeper of secrets, and this secret had been carefully safeguarded, but now was not the time to reveal it. It wasn’t his place to set the emergency plan into motion. He nearly choked on the information, but he would follow orders.

  “If you think your hands are clean, you are naïve, Wilhelm. Do you think it was an accident that the man you replaced when you first got to the island was lost in a boating mishap? Oh, yes, I forgot, it was an accident. A very fortunate one, for you. They never did find the body, did they?”

  “I had nothing to do with Sir James Markham’s disappearance!” William protested.