Jakko Ahtisaans was many things, but he was firstly a practical man. The flying boat was gone and another dinghy was heading toward them. With the hold door damaged, he couldn’t dive and if he was to hit heavy seas, U-806 would sink like a stone. Ahtisaans signalled to everyone to surrender and stood on the conning tower with his hands raised.
Kravchenko climbed the tower and made a gesture with his fingers to his ear indicating a radio headset. Ahtisaans nodded and directed a British commando to the radio room who managed to get through to Chainbridge who was sitting by a large radio receiver in the farmhouse. He instructed them to proceed to the far side of Suomenlinna, where a deep-water dock was being prepared for the submarine.
The remaining dinghies pulled up, and everyone clambered aboard. The injured submariners were treated on the deck by a commando, one of them later dying from his injuries. The dinghies were raised onto the submarine's deck and secured, acting as gurneys for the medic.
Brandt was sitting against the conning tower when Eva had joined him. The sun had broken through, though it looked like it would squall again. The wind was blowing her hair and, despite the cold, the sun gave off a little heat. The side of her face was bruised but her cut had been attended to. With a splitting headache, she rested her head on his shoulder and dozed, finding the pulse of the engines soothing. Brandt put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer; it seemed a most natural thing to do.
The remainder of Brandt’s unit sat or lay napping, except Kravchenko and Zbarsky who were in the hold.
Lenin looked well under glass. Zbarsky scanned him with concern, looking for any deterioration. To his relief, the corpse seemed undamaged from the assault. An assistant had been killed during the battle, and Zbarsky wondered if it had all been worth it. Kravchenko had never seen Lenin lying in state, only heard stories about him from his father. His only plan now was to get Lenin to Tyumen. That of course now lay in the hands of British Intelligence.
Eva awoke with a start. The submarine was rounding the island and the deep-sea dock was becoming visible. De Witte would be waiting for her.
She looked up into Brandt’s eyes and smiled wryly. ‘I lost someone before the war. I’m telling you this as we’re probably never going to see each other again, Captain Brandt. I’m really not a very nice girl and my life is very, very complicated,’
Brandt smiled, and kissed her softly, savouring her mouth. ‘I know.’
In the afternoon light her hair shimmered. Without make-up she looked much younger. He kissed her again, probably for the last time. He could smell sea salt in her hair.
Chapter 13
Suomenlinna, Finland
Brandt breathed in the evening air, savouring the tang of the sea, burrowing himself deeper into his heavy coat. His fingers sought the cigarette case in the coat’s pocket. Before leaving the island, Eva had handed it to Brandt. Inside it, there was a carefully folded piece of paper with an address in the city. The Russian had been moved to Helsinki with the two men; probably for de-briefing, meaning Eva would be there for a while. He read and re-read the piece of paper, committing it to memory before destroying it.
The lights of Helsinki shimmered across the water, a thin yellow line cutting the evening darkness across the sea. The snow had stopped, the cloud cover barely allowing the seven or so hours' daylight to penetrate it, rendering the entire day bleak. He had located the small boat near the dry dock, the oars neatly stowed. Again he looked up and judged the distance from the island to the city where Eva was; it’d take a few hours, but he had to see her. He wound his watch, released the strap and handed it to the man beside him. ‘Thank you.’
The fisherman nodded, slipped the watch around his wrist, admiring it in the faint light, then handed Brandt a flask, map, torch and a detailed map.
Brandt pulled on a woollen hat and eased himself into the boat. The fisherman pushed him out into the tide, gave a swift wave and turned back toward his hut, its lights warm and welcoming in the bitterly cold evening. The boat cut through the water. The sea was as calm as a sheet of glass. Above him occasional pockets of stars appeared in the clouds. Every stroke toward her released the agony of war and, although the end of this journey was uncertain, he felt in his heart it was the right thing to do.
She was waiting, sitting near the pension’s window, a book resting on her lap, never once doubting he would appear. There he was, crossing the street and looking up at the windows of the building. At the sight of him, she pushed back the curtain and their eyes met like a shock of electricity through the glass. She heard the knock at the door. They stood facing each other for a moment, their gaze locked. He took her hand and closed the door behind her softly. He kissed her. She returned the kiss and a wave of euphoria surged through them. Their fingers and tongues followed a primordial signal from the brain, each responsive and unlocking the code of the other's needs. Within seconds she could feel his urgent heat pressing against her. He reached under her hips, lifting her up onto his waist, forcing her skirt to ride up her thighs. She clamped her legs around him and they walked, stumbled and tripped toward the bedroom.
‘Don’t make me pregnant,’ she whispered in his ear as she nipped the lobe with her teeth. He tilted his head back and laughed. It was a warm laugh and he pressed his face close to her. She could feel his breath on her lips.
‘I’ll be very careful.’ He kissed her deeply again, bending down low and dropping her gently onto the mattress. His hands were experienced and assured. Nothing about Brandt was rushed. He undressed her slowly, planting soft kisses on her exposed flesh and he smiled up at her as she groaned.
‘A little more comfortable than the submarine, Eva,’
He pulled away to look at her body. Her breasts were full and sat firm on her rib cage which tapered down to a flat stomach. Her skin was smooth and flawless, delicate and silky to the touch. He planted slow kisses around the rim of her navel and her torso twisted up to his mouth in response. His hands worked gradually up her legs and moved slowly toward her inner thigh, unfastening the suspenders with his free hand. They both moved to a more intense rhythm, their breathing short. ‘Now,’ she murmured.
He sat at the edge of the bed, naked, sipping wine. It was Chianti and a good one at that. She lay watching his back in the moonlight. His arms were strong and well shaped like those of a swimmer. There were nicks and whorls around the biceps which Eva recognised as old bullet grazes. His profile was linear, a long nose, not too full mouth and solid faintly scarred chin. It was wrong to compare, but she did. De Witte was uncertain at times with her in bed as if he was trying to avoid thinking of his wife. She finished her glass and rose, extinguishing the cigarette into the empty coffee cup beside the bed. Good wine, fresh coffee and sex. She felt alive.
‘You have to go. My friend will be returning soon.’ It was a lie and he knew it.
Brandt turned to her and smiled. ‘I understand.’
‘No, you’re not supposed to understand, you’re supposed to be insanely jealous!’ she spat out. She suddenly felt aggrieved. The first green shoot of doubt had appeared in her mind. These past few hours were the best she’d known since Jonas. Brandt leaned in close and kissed her, then burying his face into her hair, inhaled its perfume. He looked into her eyes and she traced the recent scars on his face with a nail. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She blinked them back, looking away in embarrassment. He kissed her eyelids tenderly; the beard stubble brushing against them.
‘Eva, you have your job to do. It’s a fact of life at this moment. I am jealous of your blind companion and I’ve been in love with you since I first set eyes on you.' His eyes glittered and his voice had dipped to a husky whisper, the emotion choking the words. His kiss burned deeper than any sensation she had ever encountered before and she became aroused. She slid over and across, clamping her thighs around his hips and sitting on his legs. Her hair fell into his face. ‘It is what it is, Eva,’ he whispered.
They made love for the last time and, as Ev
a slept, Brandt pulled back the sheets and looked at her sleeping figure. The moonlight coming in through the bedroom window gave her skin a creamy lustre. His eyes slowly roved over her flesh. Her chest rose and fell quietly and her full mouth was slightly open, revealing her white teeth. She was exquisite to look at, almost ethereal, rolling slightly onto her back and turning her head towards him, sighing gently. She looked so young and pretty, her skin smoothed out in deep repose. His gaze was drawn to a long knife scar across the top of her right hip which had been expertly sewn and healed. She stirred and looked up towards his face. She was smiling up at him. ‘What are you looking at, Captain Brandt?’
Brandt bent toward her, smiling back. ‘Just framing this moment in my head … Miss Molenaar …. ’
Brushing her hair from her face he kissed her, drawing the sensation out for as long as he could. He pulled the covers over their heads, creating a sanctuary from the night and the creeping dawn.
She woke to find him gone and her cigarette case by the dresser.
Chainbridge and De Witte stood with Colonel Valery Yvetschenko from Tyumen on the quay as the Russian warship Sovietski Leningrad pulled up alongside U-Boat 806. The deep channel was narrow, allowing little leeway between the vessels as the warship inched its way in. Finnish dockers eyed the vessel uneasily as they moored the ship securely. Armed Russian marines lined the decks with stoney-faced expressions, weapons primed. A group of them descended by rope onto the deck of the submarine and formed a phalanx surrounding the hold. The U-Boat had been repaired and was being dispatched to Plymouth for re-commissioning. She began to power up and the repaired hold doors opened like the petals of a flower.
The Russian warship lowered a series of chains and winches from a gantry, and the men on the U-Boat and the warship secured the sarcophagus. Kincaid had left nothing to chance; the hold had been equipped for a long voyage. Zbarsky had worked around the clock preparing Lenin for repatriation, remaining on board the submarine and sleeping in the Captain’s quarters. Slowly, with the creak of chains, shouts and whistles, the sarcophagus was winched up from the hold and within minutes was aboard the warship, secured below decks.
For Kravchenko it had been a difficult stay, being an enemy soldier and a high-ranking NKVD officer on Finnish soil. Once his identity had been established, it was requested by the Russians he be kept away from Brandt and his team and held under house arrest.
Chainbridge and De Witte used this opportunity to interview him at length away from the island in a safe house in Helsinki. They were particularly keen to know all about Stalin, his thought processes and his overall mental stability. They probed him about Yezhov, head of the NKVD, and Shpigellaz, head of foreign intelligence, and their networks. He would shrug nonchalantly between cigarettes, giving only his name, rank and serial number, enjoying the apartment which was clean, comfortable and warm.
The blind one’s Russian was perfect and Kravchenko found himself warming to the two scholarly men. The conversations continued for hours to the slow tick of the large clock in the sitting room. Kravchenko’s wounds and bruises had healed, his face returning to its normal size, allowing him to shave again.
They asked him directly to work for them, assisting them in the hunt for potential Communist ‘sleepers’ in the main British universities. A group of four had been eluding the men and they were keen to hunt them down.
Kravchenko’s information would, of course, be in exchange for political asylum. Kravchenko declined to work for them, knowing well that by the time the Russian fleet arrived he would be deemed by Stalin as ‘politically unreliable’ anyway. Stalin was paranoid about Russians being in contact with other nationalities. Working with German soldiers would not be looked on favourably, whatever the outcome. Nevertheless, he decided to go with the devil he knew, repeating only his name, rank and serial number to the men.
Added to that, right now his wife and son would no doubt have been arrested by Beria and be on their way to his headquarters for interrogation. He had to be there with them no matter what.
When Yvetschenko appeared, flanked by armed marines, on the Suomenlinna quayside, his heart sank. He was issued with a new NKVD uniform, without rank he noted. Before ascending the gangplank he said farewell to Brandt’s men and Olga. He had given Brandt his ornate cigarette case, making sure Kant was well stocked with more Russian cigarettes.
Olga had merely nodded, not making eye contact, and he returned the gesture.
Zbarsky mounted the warship's gangplank followed by Kravchenko and surrounded by the marines who had disembarked from the U-Boat. The two men both turned briefly and waved goodbye. Brandt, Kramer, Kant, Bader and Hauptman gave a soldier’s salute in return, dressed now in civilian clothes.
The Sovietski Leningrad slipped back into the dawn light and departed Suomenlinna. Just south of the island, a flotilla of Russian warships waited for the ship with its precious cargo aboard. Once it joined the convoy, the armada set sail for the motherland of Russia. They were going to sail close to the Finnish and Swedish coastline and back around to Murmansk, running the German U-Boat gauntlet of the North Atlantic.
Kravchenko stared out from the deck as the surrounding islands slipped past, his thoughts never far from Sondra and Oleg. Maybe when this war was over, when the years of bloodshed had passed, he’d return here with them.
Chainbridge got word to the American Embassy in London that Donald T Kincaid’s private flying boat had gone missing during a storm over Finland. Rescue efforts were being hampered by severe weather conditions and hopes were fading for survivors.
Yvetschenko lit a cigarette and offered one to Chainbridge. ‘This unfortunate incident never occurred, Mr Chainbridge.’
‘Of course, Colonel,’ replied Chainbridge, exhaling slowly. Studying the Colonel, Chainbridge guessed he was more or less his opposite in the NKVD, a fellow spymaster.
‘Did any of the film footage get to Berlin?’ Yvetschenko inquired. He hadn’t decided Kravchenko’s fate yet. No doubt Stalin would want to talk to him personally. He had wanted Brandt’s unit handed over to him for execution, but Chainbridge and De Witte wouldn’t countenance it.
Chainbridge pulled his coats lapels closer across his chest in the cold. ‘Some footage may have got through, Comrade Yvetschenko, though who would believe it?’
The flying boat had sunk quickly, the water several fathoms deep in the area it went down, but there was always the possibility of one of Regan’s cameras being washed ashore. However, for now, the mission had been accomplished.
‘Colonel, I have a personal favour.’ Chainbridge extinguished his cigarette with his heel. ‘Spare the dockworkers. This isn’t their war.’
The Russian Colonel showed no expression as he stepped forward and raised his left arm straight. At this signal, the marines aboard the warship lowered their weapons and returned below decks.
‘Thank you,’ smiled Chainbridge. Yvetschenko merely grunted as he skulked away, burying his head deep into his coats lapels. He ascended the gangplank without looking back.
Brandt watched Eva and De Witte standing together, looking for a sign. Weighing heavily in his tunic’s pocket was a letter to her. It had taken hours to write and now he felt there was no point to it.
For a week he had remained in the farm house on the island after seeing her for the most part existing in a vacuum. There she stood at the quayside and his heart jumped at the sight of her. She made eye-contact often but didn’t give any indication of her true emotions, fussing and minding De Witte. Brandt observed she was making a meal of it and laughed to himself for being so foolish. He was an enemy soldier displaced on foreign soil and was at the mercy of these men, Jackson and Floyd. Nevertheless, any time she looked up it was always toward him.
He stepped out of her eye line and, when she looked up to find him missing, she searched for him. When they made eye contact again, he tipped her a wink. She blushed and got flustered, patting down one of De Witte’s coat lapels with added intensity.
&n
bsp; His thoughts were broken when Chainbridge and Fletchmore came up to him and handed him a large manila envelope. Inside were letters of transit prepared by the British Embassy for Switzerland. False passports requiring new photographs, currency and rations were handed to him also.
‘Captain Brandt, you’ve made an awful lot of enemies. Norway aside, if the High Command finds out you and your men survived, they’ll hunt you down,’
‘Very few are mountaineers,’ smiled Brandt. He worried about his mother in Dusseldorf who would now have received a letter telling her he was dead. His men too had families in Germany and they had no idea what their fate would be. ‘How are we going to get there?’ he inquired.
Chainbridge nodded toward the pilots of the American Transport. The pilots and navigator were sitting in an army Jeep, the engine idling like a hot-rod.
‘Jesus,’ muttered Kant.
Brandt shook the hands of Chainbridge and De Witte. Chainbridge gripped his hand. ‘Captain Brandt, think of this as a rest and recreation break for you and your team. We may have to call upon you and your team’s services again.’
Brandt was amused by the idea of being a soldier of fortune, but for now had no plans.
He came to Eva. ‘Fraulein.’ He held her hand gently and she didn’t pull it away.
‘Au revoir, Captain’ she smiled. ‘I’m leaving for New York tonight.’
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her mouth.
‘Au revoir, Eva,’ he replied. ‘Have a safe voyage.’
Eva stood on the deck, leaning against the rail, deep in thought. She felt drained although the adrenalin of the past two months still pumped fast through her veins. The boat was a fishing smack hired by Chainbridge and De Witte who were both dozing in the bridge under the leisurely pace of the journey. From Helsinki, she and De Witte were sailing to New York in a ship sporting the Finnish flag, thus improving their chances against the German wolf packs of the Atlantic Ocean. She bundled herself deeper into her great coat, trying to control her billowing hair as she stared into the ship's wake.
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