The Golden U-Boat

by Richard P. Henrick

  “My name is Mikhail Kuznetsov. I am a citizen of the Soviet Union, where I hold the honorary rank of General in the People’s Army. For the past forty-four years I have devoted my life entirely to tracking down and bringing to justice escaped Nazi war criminals. I have reason to believe that the two men that you were about to attempt to apprehend are members of a dangerous neo-Nazi group known as Werewolf. To the members of Werewolf, murder and theft are but a means to an end, their goal being the ultimate rebirth of the German Reich.

  “As young Norwegians, you have no doubt heard the horror-filled tales of your elders as they described the Nazi occupation of your country. I personally lived through this nightmare as an occupant of a German death camp. For four long years I lived in a hell beyond description. I saw tens of thousands of innocent men, women and children tortured, starved and put to death for the mere fact that their birthright didn’t fit in with the Aryan master plan. I swore to myself then that if I ever survived my incarceration, I would dedicate the rest of my life to making sure that such an evil never again walked the face of this earth.

  “Over four decades have passed since then. And in that time I have watched with horror as Werewolf grew stronger and stronger, until today they are but one small step away from consolidating their power and seriously challenging the world’s superpowers for control of the planet.

  “You are probably asking yourselves what this has to do with the men that killed your two friends, and stole the shipment of heavy water that you worked so hard to salvage.”

  This comment drew Knut’s immediate attention, and the engineer turned from the window to query, “How did you know about those deaths? And who told you about the heavy water?”

  Mikhail looked up into the Viking’s intense stare and answered him directly.

  “NUEX’s salvage of the Hydro ferry and her cargo was common knowledge which I learned about in the newspapers. But I was hiding in the woods that lay near your salvage vessel on the night that the heavy water was stolen.

  And I saw with my own eyes as that Nazi scum ordered your friends to kneel down in the mud and then proceeded to blow their brains out.”

  “Do you mean to say that you just sat out there and watched my friends be murdered in cold blood?” questioned Knut passionately.

  “Why the hell didn’t you try to save them?”

  Fearing for a second that the red-faced giant might get violent, Mikhail replied firmly.

  “And just what did you want me to do, Comrade? It happened so fast that I hardly realized what had occurred until it was all over with. By that time it was too late.”

  Jon Huslid broke in at this point to diffuse this emotional confrontation.

  “General Kuznetsov, what do these two murders have to do with Werewolf?

  And what led you here to Tromso?”

  Mikhail took a series of deep calming breaths before responding.

  “The two who are responsible for the deaths of your colleagues and the theft of your heavy water are known sub-agents of the group. I followed them all the way from Paraguay, where Werewolf has its headquarters. After they left Lake Tinnsjo, I trailed them by car to Trondheim. Knut here beat me to the agent who rented the trawler to them. It was this same agent who told me that the vessel was bound for Tromso. And here I am.”

  “What’s so special about that heavy water?” asked Arne.

  “It seems that’s the key to this whole thing.”

  Mikhail’s eyes gleamed as he answered.

  “You are very perceptive, Comrade. Surely you know where the Hydro’s cargo was headed when the saboteur’s explosives sent it sinking to the fjord’s icy bottom.”

  “The heavy water was bound for Germany, where the Nazis were going to use it to develop an atomic bomb,” returned Arne, who suddenly knew the answer to his original question.

  Seeing this realization dawn in the bearded diver’s eyes, Mikhail nodded.

  “Yes, Comrade. And just like fifty years ago, today Werewolf is hoping to use this very same shipment to develop their own bomb.”

  “Holy Mother Mary!” exclaimed Arne.

  “And to think that we could be indirectly responsible for putting that heavy water right in their hands.”

  “So just what is it that you’re asking of us?” questioned Knut, who was just as affected by this shocking revelation as anyone else in the room.

  Sensing that he had succeeded in swaying the young group of headstrong Norwegians to his side, Mikhail decided then that they would make excellent allies, and he replied accordingly.

  “It’s obvious that the trawler will be leaving shortly for the next leg of its voyage. I plan to follow it all the way to the nest of vipers that ordered its theft in the first place. Only when I have rooted out the entire organization will I act to crush it for all eternity.”

  “Well, I doubt if that trawler’s bound for South America from here,” offered Jon.

  “If that had been the case, they would have left straight from Trondheim.”

  “That could only mean that they’re headed further north,” suggested Jakob.

  This time it was Karl who interjected.

  “There’s not much further north than Tromso, gentlemen.”

  “Should we try to get hold of a boat and trail them?” asked Arne.

  The Lapp shook his head.

  “Why go to all that trouble? The Tromso harbormaster is a good friend of my father’s. Since no vessel is allowed out of this port without posting its intended destination before hand, why don’t I just go up there and ask where the trawler’s bound for?”

  “That’s an excellent idea,” returned Mikahil Kuznetsov.

  “But we’re still going to have to come up with a means of transportation once we learn exactly where the Elsie K is next headed.”

  A widely grinning Karl Skollevoll was quick to reply.

  “How do the services of an extended range, Bell 212 helicopter sound to you, General?”

  Already certain that he had made a wise choice in taking these Norwegians into his trust, Mikhail answered.

  “My dear, such a capable vehicle would be a blessing from heaven.”

  “I don’t know if my boss Magne would agree to that,” said Karl with a wink.

  “But I’m already in this far, and if you just give me a solid place to put my chopper down, you’ve got yourself a ride on Noroil One.”

  “Then I guess I’d better be off to the harbormaster,” said Jakob.

  “I’ll meet you back here as soon as I have an answer.”

  The Lapp stood and turned for the door. Meanwhile Knut remained at the window, punching his balled fist into his open hand.

  “I hope this still means that I get first crack at the bastards who shot Lars and Thor,” asked the engineer.

  Mikhail looked up to the Viking and replied.

  “Lad, you just help me get to where that heavy water’s headed, and I swear to you that they’re yours to do with as you please.”

  “That’s all I ask,” returned Knut, as he glanced down to the snow-covered wharf and pounded his fist into the flat, wooden window sill.

  Chapter Twelve

  David Lawton had been exploring one of the Falcon’s many excellent tool shops, when Magne Rystaad invited him for a tour of the ship’s bridge. The Texan readily accepted this offer and soon found himself entering a spacious compartment on the vessel’s topmost deck.

  The night had long since fallen, and lit by a powerful bank of fluorescent tubes was an ultra-modern control room, from which almost all of the ship’s functions could be run. Only a single seaman was currently on duty here. Lawton recognized this sailor as Olav Anderson, the fellow who originally greeted him when he first landed on the diving support ship several days ago.

  “I thought you were taking me on a tour of the bridge, Magne,” remarked Lawton facetiously.

  “Where’s the wheel and all the controls?”

  “I’m afraid this is it, my friend,” replied his host.r />
  “Don’t let the lack of complicated dials and stacks of equipment fool you. Everything that’s needed to operate this ship is right in front of you.”

  Lawton took a close look at the long, waist-high console that stretched the entire width of the compartment.

  It was set up against a double-layered, wraparound windshield, and had surprisingly few instruments on it.

  Standing at the central console, with his hand on a small joystick, Olav Anderson spoke in broken English.

  “Here’s the wheel you were looking for, Mr.

  Lawton. On the Falcon, we do things the modern way.”

  “That’s an understatement if I ever heard it,” returned the Texan as he examined the ship’s state-of the-art radar unit.

  “Back home we only dream of vessels such as this one. She’s sure got some fancy toys.”

  “Noroil is currently designing another ship that will eventually replace this one in a few years,” revealed Magne.

  “That vessel will even be more sophisticated.”

  Lawton shook his head with wonder.

  “You Norwegians sure know how to build a boat. I guess it comes from your Viking tradition and all.”

  “With most of our land being mountains and fjords, we Norwegians have had to look to the sea to survive since the beginning of our history,” said Olav Anderson proudly, “In fact, they say if you cut a Norwegian, he’ll bleed both blood and saltwater.”

  David Lawton laughed at this while checking out the high-tech push button annunciator and the thruster controls, which were also operated by joystick.

  He reached out to steady himself when the deck suddenly rocked to and fro. The swell that caused this turbulence was far less intense than the rough seas they had encountered further south, and it soon passed. As the deck stabilized, he peered out one of the large windows that directly overlooked the empty helipad.

  It was a dark, moonless night, yet he only had to look off to the port to view a wondrous sight that caused him to gasp in wonder. Rising from the sea here, like a floating skyscraper, was the Ice Field’s production platform. It was a monstrous structure, lit up by a variety of colored lights and powerful spots.

  The lights belonging to the three tug boats that continued towing the rig to its final resting place could also be seen in the waters beyond, and Lawton commented appreciatively, “My, that is sure some sight!”

  “It even takes my breath away,” reflected Magne, “She’s the largest production platform ever built. And even so, the sea’s almost swallowed her up.”

  “That sure would have been a horrible waste,” said Lawton.

  “We should have smooth sailing from here on up to Svalbard,” added Olav Anderson.

  “At least we won’t have anymore gales like the one we passed through down south to contend with.”

  “Let’s hope not,” said Magne.

  “To tell you the truth, I seriously doubted if the Falcon could have done much if we got up here and still found the rig floundering.

  At the best, we could have provided a place for the platform workers to evacuate to. Although in rough seas, even that can be a dangerous operation.”

  “How far will be escorting her?” asked the Texan.

  “As far as I know, all the way to Svalbard,” answered Magne.

  “The company doesn’t want to take anymore chances with an investment this large at stake.”

  “Have you ever been to Svalbard before, Mr. Lawton?” asked Olav Anderson.

  “Mister, not only is this my first trip to Norway, but it’s the first time I’ve ever been above the Arctic Circle.”

  The weather-faced seaman smiled.

  “Then you’re really in for an experience, because Svalbard is unlike any other place on this earth.”

  “Geologically, it hasn’t changed a bit since the Ice Age,” added Magne.

  “And except for several coal mines and our new drilling operation, man hasn’t been around Svalbard long enough to damage its ecosystem much.”

  “Sounds interesting,” said Lawton.

  “Will I get a chance to do some diving there?”

  Magne nodded.

  “I believe that can be arranged, David. I might even get my feet wet this time. We’ll have plenty to do pre positioning the platform and checking its base for any storm damage. And with NUEX still gone, I’m going to need every diver I can find.”

  “I wonder how those guys are doing,” inquired the Texan.

  “I got a dispatch from their helicopter pilot while you were down in the machine shop. It seems that they made it to Tromso in one piece. At last report, Tromso reported blowing snow, and Karl will be staying up there with the chopper until the weather clears.”

  “Did she say anything about that friend of theirs that they were supposed to meet up there in Tromso?”

  asked Lawton.

  “You mean, Knut Haugen?” explained Magne.

  “No, come to think of it, she didn’t. I’m going to have to call Karl back and ask her about that. I just pray that NUEX manages to stay out of further trouble this time.”

  “Those boys better have gone to the police if their buddy Knut had a lead on those criminals,” said Lawton.

  “Otherwise, they could be getting into water that’s way over their heads.”

  “NUEX might appear to be a little impulsive, but they usually listen to the voice of reason in the end,” remarked Magne.

  “I can’t wait to tell them the latest on that gold bar. You guys really came back with a piece of living history.”

  “You don’t really believe all that stuff about it being from the missing treasure of the Czars, do you, Magne?” questioned the skeptical American.

  His host looked him right in the eye and responded.

  “I don’t see why not. That serial number that we lifted off the bar was as clear as the day that it was imprinted.

  The Russians sure didn’t have any trouble running it down, once Oslo relayed it to them.”

  “But what’s a piece of gold minted in the time of Czar Nicholas II, doing inside the hull of a World War II German U-boat off the coast of Norway?” quizzed Lawton.

  “That, my friend, only time and a lot more investigation will tell,” answered the Falcon’s diving supervisor.

  “Do you think the boys will demand some of the reward money that the Russians are offering for the return of that gold bar?” wondered Lawton.

  “It won’t make much difference what they demand, David. As far as Noroil is concerned, it’s now a company asset. But they know the score. They’ve been in this game longer than you think.”

  Just talking about the group of young Norwegians, that he had spent over three days cooped up with, caused a grin to etch the Texan’s bearded face.

  “Those boys sure must have gotten an early start in life. It’s hard to believe what they’ve already accomplished. At their age on my crew, they’d still be filling scuba tanks. But all the same, NUEX showed me that they were very capable divers. They still might be a little headstrong, but I attribute that to youth. At no time did they show signs of fear, and that’s one of the main things that I look for in a young diver.”

  Magne slapped his guest on the back.

  “We weren’t any different when we first started in this business, my friend.”

  “I guess we weren’t,” reflected the American.

  Magne beckoned toward the rear hatchway.

  “Now how about joining me for a little workout in the Falcon ‘s exercise room, David? If we’re going to try keeping up with these youngsters, we sure better keep in shape.”

  Lawton patted his firm stomach.

  “After seventy-two hours cramped up in that decompression chamber, I’m ready to rock ‘n roll. Lead on, partner.”

  There was a hushed, tense atmosphere prevailing inside the Cheyenne’s sound shack, as Joe Carter hunched over his console. After making a slight adjustment to his headphones, he cautiously turned up the volume gain
on the sub’s bow hydrophone array. A stream of hissing static met his ears, and he once more reached up to change the frequency band.

  Immediately behind him, standing with their backs to the thick acoustic baffle that lined the room were the Cheyenne’s two senior officers. Both Captain Aldridge and his XO initiated this unusual visit soon after the sub changed course and turned its teardrop-shaped bow toward the southeast.

  Oblivious to this audience, Carter’s gaze remained locked on his repeater screen. The wavering lines that filled this monitor were visual equivalents of the sounds being relayed into his headphones by the hydrophones.

  And in this instance, the computer indeed proved more sensitive than the human ear as the barest of oscillations on the screen indicated that there was a sound source out there that Carter had yet to pick up on his headphones.

  “Bingo, Captain!” observed Carter in a whisper.

  “I believe I’ve tagged ‘em again.”

  “Is the signature strong enough to be fed through the system for an analysis yet?” questioned Aldridge.

  Carter turned up the volume gain another notch and flashed a thumbs-up. Then he expertly addressed his computer keyboard with a flurry of commands.

  All eyes went to the green-tinted monitor that was mounted beside the repeater screen. As it started to fill with data, it was Joe Carter who excitedly interpreted it.

  “Big brother shows a sixty-seven percent probability that we’ve tagged an Alfa, Captain. We’re picking up machinery noise and the strong cavitation al hiss of a seven-bladed propeller.”

  “Good work, Mr. Carter,” replied the Captain.

  “I’ve been waiting an awfully long time to come across an Alfa. Does he know he’s been tagged yet?”

  Carter shook his head.

  “No way, Captain. We’re smack in his baffles. And since Alfas aren’t equipped with towed arrays, he might never know that we’re on to him.”

  “What would a sub like an Alfa be doing in these waters, Skipper?” asked the XO as he pulled his corncob out of his mouth.

  “We’re way east of Ivan’s normal transit lane into the North Atlantic.”