by Robb White
"Was he right about the money?"
"Oh, yes. They had about a quarter of a million U.S. dollars in small bills to use for bribes."
"Everything go down with the ship?"
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''The works. We picked up every scrap floating on the water. There wasn't much. You hit that ship so hard she was practically driven to the bottom by the explosion. Not much came out of her.''
''She hit us hard, too," Bill said, remembering.
Coveney looked at him. "We were desperate. It was our last chance to stop her. And you stopped her."
Bill didn't want to talk about it. "I heard that Sweiner escaped from the hospital."
Coveney smiled a little and, after looking carefully around, said quietly, "You might call it an escape. And we hope he thinks he escaped. But there was one thing he didn't tell us: Are there any more Nazi spies in the U.S.? We hope that, if there are, Sweiner will now lead us to them."
"Oh. Then you know where he is?"
"I did until about fifteen minutes ago. He was just getting on the train with a ticket to New York. Getting on right behind him was a lieutenant commander only he's dressed like a private in the Marine Corps."
Bill laughed. "Sounds like the movies to me."
Coveney got up and held out his hand. "Good luck. And all this is strictly between the two of us. Okay?"
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"Sure. And thanks."
"By the way, I hear that there's a promotion in the works for you."
"What for? Just hving when everybody else died?"
"No, Grant. You handled the German well in the water. He told us how you tricked him. He might have escaped if it hadn't been for you."
"I just lay there," Bill said.
"Anyway, there's a half stripe for you in the works."
John must have seen Coveney leaving for he came down the porch with two Cokes. "Big secrets?" he asked.
"Secrets," Bill said. "The Office of Naval Intelligence used to irk me with all the stuff they sent that had to be signed for and filed. But Fm beginning to believe that they're quite a bunch of boys."
John handed him a Coke. "The only nurse I could find was ninety years old. Had to pay for these."
"What a shame."
John pulled up a chair. "Have they caught the German yet?"
Bill looked at him and grinned. "His name's Adolph Sweiner."
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"You don't say. Button your lip and save a ship. Til be seeing you, crip.*' 1 omorrow?
"Sure, and Til bring Dad along. If he feels like it."
Bill frowned. "How is he, John?"
"Fine," John said. Then he turned back. "He isn't fine at all. Bill. He won't stop working and the doc says his heart won't stand much more."
"Bring him tomorrow and we'll both try to persuade him."
"He might listen to you. He thinks I'm just a kid."
Bill watched his brother walk away along the porch. He was all right. Bill decided. A good kid.
With John gone Bill sat alone in the sun. For a moment he thought of the $250,000 that had gone down with the Nazi ship. Then he forgot about it. If Coveney was right he'd soon be Lieutenant (junior grade) Grant. He'd draw some water then. Maybe even rate a fleet sub.
Then he began to worry about the Navy putting him in a surface ship. He just didn't want any part of that sitting-duck Navy.
Cnapter 2
BILL GRANT GOT HIS WISH AND WENT BACK INTO
submarines. For a long time he cruised beneath the Pacific striking deeper and deeper into the heart of the Japanese Empire until, at last, the war was over.
It was the end of fighting and trouble and fear for Lieutenant (jg) William Grant but for plain Bill Grant, civilian, real trouble began. / *
His father died soon after he got out of the Navy, leaving him and John orphans. At the time of his death he had been in the middle of converting his business from a war to a peace economy. He died leaving debts of more than a hundred thousand dollars, his business failed, and there was nothing left. This staggering load
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of debt fell on Bill and John. Even after selling the house and all their father's property they were still left with a mountain of debts.
Bill got a job as navigator on an oil tanker sailing out of Miami, Florida; so he and John moved down there, renting a cheap room down by the docks. John wanted to quit school and get a job, too, but Bill wouldn't let him.
The money Bill could spare hardly paid interest on the debts so that, week after week, they slid deeper into debt.
When John got out of school for the summer, they decided to save rent money by moving into an abandoned shack down on one of the Florida keys. Getting ready to move, they started packing their gear, throwing away whatever they wouldn't need.
Bill went through his Navy stuff, throwing away old blues and whites, books and notes he had once thought he would read over again but now knew he never would.
As the pile of junk grew on the floor, Bill came across the rough-log notebook he had had when his first submarine had been sunk by the Nazi ship.
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Just before the shell hit her he had put the notebook in his pocket. Now the ink was faded by sea water to spidery gray lines and numbers and the paper was stained and brittle.
Bill opened it carefully to the last entry and saw again the position the RDF operator had called up to him just before the battle started. There, dim but still readable, were the twelve numbers of latitude and longitude.
He closed the book and threw it on the pile of junk. But he kept calculating, seeing the numbers again.
The sub and the Nazi ship had gone down off the southwest coast of Florida. Not far from where he was right now. Not very far.
Then Bill remembered the ONI lieutenant—what was his name? Coventry? No, Coveney.
He reached out and got the notebook off the pile. For a long time he sat looking at the numbers written there. They were the tombstones of the Nazi ship and the U.S. sub—the invisible grave markers.
No one else in the world knew those numbers. These two imaginary lines, one running south from the Pole,
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the other parallel to the Equator. They crossed somewhere out in the quiet Gulf of Mexico.
The submarine and the ship lay on the bottom there. In the ship there might still be a quarter of a million dollars.
Bill sat, thinking. How had the Nazi spies planned to get ashore?
In the shallow water of the Gulf coast the ship could not have come within two miles of the Florida beach. Then the spies must have planned to come the rest of the way in a small boat, maybe a rubber raft.
But these. Bill remembered, were Hitler's top spies. They would surely have known that those beaches were patrolled day and night. Any sort of boat would have been spotted.
Then they must have planned to swim. Perhaps they had had diving helmets and tanks so that they could walk along the bottom. Bill was convinced now they must have planned to be bodily in the water.
Then whatever they were going to bring with them —maps, diagrams, money—would have to have been carefully wrapped and made waterproof.
How big a package would $250,000 make?
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Bill got up and went to the dresser. In a drawer he had about $300 in small bills which he had saved to pay on his father's debts. He took the money and squeezed it together with his fingers.
$250,000 would make quite a package, he decided.
John stopped cleaning his .22 rifle and watched Bill squeezing the money. 'Why not throw it out the window and let the people we owe money to scramble for it?''
Bill turned slowly and looked at him. '1 know where there's 250,000 bucks."
'*So do I," John said. "In the bank, but they don't like for you to take it away from them."
Bill didn't even smile. 'We're not getting anywhere, Johnny. We're not even keeping ahead of the interest. We're going backwards."
*'No. But—how about taking one long chance, John?"
John looked at the money still in Bill's hand. ''Do you want to bet the pile on a horse race or something?"
Bill shook his head. "Do you remember Adolph Sweiner?"
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John nodded. "Your Nazi pal?''
*'He was going to bring bribe money into the States with him. Only he didn't get here exactly the way he planned to. And he left the money behind, John."
"Where?"
"It's in the ship somewhere. It's wrapped up so water can't get to it. It's—waiting, John."
John stared at his brother. "Could we find it?"
"That's the long chance. It would cost a lot to go look for it. If we didn't find it we'd be just that much deeper in debt."
"Could we find the ship?"
Bill held out the notebook. "I think so."
"What would we need?"
"First, a diving outfit. I saw some surplus ones in Miami for around $150. Then^ a boat to get us out there. We could rent an old fishing boat or something."
"How far away is it?"
"About a hundred miles. Almost due west."
John thought for a moment. "Don't you suppose someone else has already gone out there and looked for it? Maybe even found it?"
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Bill closed the notebook and put it in his pocket. "The sea's an awful empty place when you're looking for something and don't know exactly where it is. I'm the only man in the world who knows exactly where that ship is, John."
'Two — hundred — and — fifty — thousand — dollars," John said slowly. 'It would pay off all the debts and still leave some for us."
"A lot." ^ S.787767 „
'That's worth taking a chance on. Let s dxD it!"
Bill smiled a little grimly. "It's going to take every cent we can get. I'll have to quit my job, too. And we'll have to duck all the people we owe money to. It's risky, John."
"So what? It's better than just sinking into tne mud the way we're doing now."
Bill said slowly, "All right. We'll do it. Have you told anybody that we're moving out to that shack on the Key?"
"No."
"Neither have I. We can just vanish from around here. Tomorrow I'll draw all the pay that's coming to me. Then, with this"—he waved the money in his hand
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—"we'll have about $600. That'll buy diving gear and pay rent on a boat/'
"What sort of boat do we need?"
"If we could get one with a diesel I'd feel better. A hundred miles off shore isn't a picnic."
"What about a sailboat?"
"You old Sea Scout, I hadn't thought of that. It would be a lot cheaper, wouldn't it?"
"And the engine wouldn't break down."
Bill looked across at his brother. "If we find it we'll be in the clear, John. If we don't—well, we'll only be out of a job and six hundred bucks."
"That's not a long chance to take for a quarter of a million," John said.
They found that the $150 diving outfit was just a come-on. It was a one-tank job good for no more than half an hour under water. To get what they needed— a Navy frogman 2-tank block, good for two hours down and a depth of 300 feet—cost nearly $300. Then the rubber suit, hood, mask, boots, and belt took another $60. A two-way phone with wire, life line, extra tanks, and weights piled on another $150.
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With what money they had left the only boat they could rent was an old six-meter yacht. Her black paint was peeling, and below decks she was musty and mildewed. Her running rigging was in shreds but her sails, kept in proper storage, were in first-class shape. Her hull was sound and her standing rigging was stainless
steel.
«
The last of their money went for new halyards and sheets and enough paint to keep the seas out of her.
By late afternoon Bill and John, with a jury rig on the boat, were sailing out of Biscayne Bay, headed for the Keys.
She wasn^t exactly what they had planned on getting. They had wanted a fish boat, or something equally solid and rugged, in case they had to live through heavy weather; a good offshore boat that you could beat around. This six-meter yacht with the gold letters of her name—Venture—-ipeeling off, was a racing machine —a fragile hull with a towering mast and a cloud of sail. A boat that, when the wind really blew, had better stay tied up to the yacht club dock. She was six meters on the water line but had an overhanging bow and stern that a rough sea could snap off like saltine crack-
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ers. She had no auxihary engine, no galley, no bunks. They would have to move her with sail, sleep on deck, and cook with a Primus.
But they could afford her and they were under way.
They anchored her at last in the little cove in front of their shack down in the Keys. For a week they worked on her—painting, replacing rigging, greasing blocks, and tightening bitts, cleats, and chain plates. They put ballywrinkle on the shrouds to keep them from chafing the sails, checked the underwater fittings of the rudder and, in general, got her ready for sea.
Then, for a day, they both practiced using the diving gear. Bill tried it first and found that, after his first fear wore off, it was simple enough to get around in.
At last they were about ready to go. Their money had run out so Bill sent John down to Key West where they still had some credit in a grocery store.
Until dark Bill worked on the boat. When he could no longer see what he was doing, he rowed the dink ashore and walked up to the shack.
He was lighting the lamp when John came in, almost staggering under the load of groceries. Bill turned the lamp up.
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John's face was frightened as he said in a low voice, 'Tou may think Tm crazy, Bill, but I saw—Sweiner."
'Who?'' Bill asked, not thinking. Then he whirled around. ''Who?"
''Sweiner, Bill. I'm sure it was.'*
*'How do you know? When did you ever see him?"
*ln the hospital. They brought you both in together, remember? I saw him once or twice before he got away."
Bill pounded his hand on the table, thinking. ''How could it be?" he demanded. "Are you sure, Johnny?"
"I saw him first down by the dock in Key West. He was coming off a schooner tied up there. But I didn't look at him then. Just a tall, ugly guy. Then I saw him pass when I was in the grocery store. Just walking slow and looking in through the window. I still didn't connect.
"Then, with the chow, I hitched a ride in a pickup truck. I sat in the back of it. A Chevrolet got in behind us and stayed. I saw him then. It was Sweiner. His face has healed over so that it's dead white, just scar tissue, I guess. He hasn't got any eyelashes or eyebrows. He isn't very pretty to look at. He stayed behind the truck until I got out."
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Bill kept gently pounding the table. ''Did he see the Venture?"
"No. I got out two miles from here and walked toward a house on the beach where a woman was hanging out clothes. When Sweiner went on out of sight I cut back staying where I could see the highway in case he turned around. I didn't see him."
Bill pounded harder on the table. 'If we just had our air tanks filled we could leave here tonight/'
"Do you think he's watching us?"
"I don't know. But that guy's sudden death." Bill reached over suddenly and turned the lamp down and blew it out. "Let's shove."
"Without air?"
"We'll sail her down to Key West tonight. Get the tanks filled tomorrow and then clear out for good."
It didn't work out that way. There was hardly enough wind to keep the sails filled so it took them all night and most of the next day to get down to Key West.
Tying up at the only vacant wharf Bill took the empty air tanks ashore, leaving John on board. "Don't be any more conspicuous than you have to be,"
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he warned him. *1 don't beHeve Sweiner's re
ally up to anything but—he knows about the money, too. Only he doesn't know exactly where it is/'
'I'll stay below and try to fix up some place for us to sleep in case it rains."
As Bill picked up two of the tanks and stepped out on the rickety wharf, John pointed seaward. ^'That's the same schooner Sweiner was on when I saw him first."
Bill watched the schooner tacking into the bay. She was an offshore, gaffrigged boat, around seventy feet long and weighing. Bill guessed, lo tons. Her masts, without the topmasts stepped, looked sort of bob-tailed.
'What's all that gear on her stern?" John asked as the boat swung broadside to them.
Bill studied the machinery aft of the wheel. Slowly he said, "I may be wrong, but that looks like an air compressor and a hose reel."
'If it is . . . ?" John asked.
"Sweiner's after the money too."
They looked at each other.
"Picnic's over," John said.
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"Looks like it. Well, we've got to have air/' Bill picked up the tanks.
It took a long time to get them filled and then to talk a man into driving them in his truck back down to the wharf. By the time he got back it was pitch dark with storm clouds gathering and shrouding the moon.
The tanks, now heavy with compressed air, were hard to carry. The wharf was so rickety that Bill had to use a flashlight and could only manage one tank at a time.
Ship's gear, mooring lines, and junk cluttered the wharf so Bill had to pick his way carefully along. Ahead he could just make out the tall mast of the Venture sticking up against the rolling dark clouds of the storm.
They couldn't go to sea in the weather that was coming. Bill decided. By morning, he guessed, there would be half a gale sweeping the Gulf. He doubted if the Venture could live through that sort of stuff.
If they didn't sail though it would mean more than just the waste of a few days. It would mean that Sweiner, whose schooner could take almost any weather, could leave ahead of them. Although Bill didn't think he knew the exact location of the ship it
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