Seaton looked at Drake, remembering Vanneck, tough, uncompromising, intensely professional. His courage went without saying. Lying somewhere with his crew of three, or scattered across the sea-bed for the scavengers.
He asked quietly, ‘So that mission was aborted?’
‘Correct.’ Venables was himself again. ‘XE 17 was not captured or, as far as we know, sighted. The plan remains the same, but has more urgency now.’
Drake tried to smile. ‘What is it this time, sir? Dock, battleship, or the Gosport ferry?’ But the smile would not come, and he added bitterly, ‘It’s all the same to us!’
‘Return to Syren immediately. My people will give you the necessary clearance when you get there.’ He looked at each of them in turn, his eyes cold. ‘I wanted both of you here. Yours is a shared enterprise, but if one of you is unable to continue with the operation, the other must be ready. And this one is important, directly linked with your last success.’
A telephone buzzed and he lifted it instantly. ‘Venables.’ He nodded, his eyes on a wall map. ‘At once, sir.’
He picked up his cap. ‘Come. The admiral is ready.’
They followed him into the other office where Seaton had first met Niven’s father. He was sitting at his desk, in uniform this time, a cigar in one corner of his mouth. Two lieutenant commanders waited just behind him, one with a large folder under his arm. Like a confidential clerk, Seaton thought.
The admiral half rose and sat down again heavily. ‘Good of you to come.’ He glanced at Drake. ‘You’re Number One, eh? Fine’.
‘I told them about Vanneck’s boat, sir.’
The admiral looked at Venables. ‘Did right, Walter. Good thinking.’
The ‘confidential clerk’ took a cautious half-pace nearer the desk and said, ‘Ready when you are, sir.’
‘Don’t fuss, Bannion!’ He waved vaguely across the desk. ‘These chaps are what it’s all about.’ His fingers strayed to the bright rectangle of medal ribbons on his chest. ‘Oh yes, I know what it’s like, believe me.’
Seaton saw the staff officer wince, and pitied him.
‘All the same, sir.’ Venables sounded impatient. ‘These officers have to go north today.’
‘I’d not forgotten.’ The admiral eyed him grimly. ‘Ruthven has his uses, it seems. He’s been able to lay on a priority flight with the R.A.F.’
Seaton looked at Drake. It was that important.
Rear Admiral Niven stubbed out his cigar. ‘You are going back to Norway.’ He gestured to his aide, who laid out the folder between his powerful hands on the desk. ‘Bergen, to be exact.’ He studied Seaton for several seconds, and in that time it was just possible to see something of his son in him.
Seaton nodded. Bergen was just about the most important German base in Norway. U-boats were berthed and maintained there. Patrols which covered the south-western approaches and the entrance to the Skagerrak regularly fuelled and took on stores in the excellent harbour.
‘And the target, sir?’ Again Seaton was amazed at his own voice. Flat. Too bloody calm.
‘No target. Not this time. Although your boat will carry side-cargoes in the normal way. In case …’ He hurried on, ‘The agents working in Bergen have something for you to collect and bring back here.’
In case. He had nearly let it slip out. Venables would not have hesitated. At least he seemed genuine. If XE 16 was going on a special mission she had to look right, if she was captured or salvaged after a mishap.
The staff officer said, ‘Here are some of the details.’
Seaton listened to the man’s dry voice. But he kept thinking about Drake and Niven’s wife. And of Bergen. It was not just any harbour. It would be like Piccadilly in the rush-hour.
His mind came back with a jerk as the officer continued, ‘The trouble is, we have to keep our part of a bargain. In exchange for the handing-over of this highly secret piece of equipment, you must bring a passenger, too.’
Venables interrupted curtly, ‘There is no other way. Fishing boats, disguises and false papers are out. This man is known to us. He has played a key role in German rocket research.’ His eyes flickered to Seaton. ‘We got some hint of the Hansa through him. To turn traitor needs more than courage. It requires certain promises from us. The Gestapo will have no mercy if they discover what he is doing.’
Drake asked quietly, ‘And if we can’t get him out?’
‘We’ll not discuss failure.’ The admiral clipped the end of another cigar. ‘Let me just say that we want him brought out alive. Equally, we would not want him to be left in Bergen in the same condition.’
‘You mean kill him, sir?’ Drake sounded very calm.
Venables said, ‘The wheres and whys can be thrashed out later on. This is a team effort. You will be given all the aid and information which we have been able to muster. Intelligence, and the Norwegian forces in England, are ready to help. As I said before,’ he was looking directly at Seaton, ‘the enemy has instilled fear to his advantage. We must rely on mutual trust.’
The admiral stood up. ‘That’s it then.’ He sounded impatient. ‘No point in discussing it further at this stage.’ He offered his hand to Seaton. ‘I’ll see you soon. Give my regards to my son. He’s full of surprises, that one.’
It was suddenly over, and Seaton found himself standing with Drake at another desk while a Wren petty officer hastily scribbled out new travel passes for their privileged flight with the R.A.F.
Drake said at length, ‘It’s not quite what I had in mind when I volunteered.’
‘You know what they say.’ They fell in step again. ‘A volunteer is a man who has misunderstood the question!’
Drake grinned. ‘I expect so.’
They stood waiting for a lift to carry them up to reality again, and Seaton said quietly, ‘Look, if you’re really set against this, I can have a word with Captain Trenoweth. You’re due for a command if you’re staying in X-craft, a transfer to something more comfortable if you’re not. Venables is right about one thing. This has got to be a team effort.’
Drake watched him thoughtfully. ‘The old firm. I told you. We’ll see it through together. Captain Venables really got to you, didn’t he?’
‘I don’t know. He’s necessary. He sees the war for what it is. It’s no use being a good, clean loser. But I’d not have his job for the world.’
A cold February drizzle greeted their appearance in Whitehall, and Drake said suddenly, ‘About Richard’s wife.’
‘Decia?’
Seaton saw the shot go home. Poor Geoff was even trying to ease the guilt by not using her name.
‘You’ll not tell him, will you?’ He sounded worried. ‘I’ll try and sort it out.’
‘You’d better.’ Seaton waved at a cruising taxi. ‘Otherwise nobody’ll have to tell him a thing. He’ll bloody well guess!’
Drake sighed. ‘For once, I’m not sorry to be going back to work.’
Seaton looked at him. If you only knew. Aloud he said, ‘It’s as good a reason as some.’
They crowded around the centre table of H.M.S. Syren’s operations room listening to the unhurried tones of an intelligence officer, while outside the building the wind moaned and hissed against the granite walls.
Seaton felt cold, in spite of the room’s steamy heat. The uncomfortable flight to Scotland, the changes from one transport to another, his nagging doubts about the proposed raid were all having effect.
Maps and photographs were laid carefully across the table in line with a giant chart and two coloured maps of Bergen. A model of the port and the adjoining fjord, dates, distances, recognition marks. A parade of efficiency.
All the lights in the room were out but for the large one above the table. That too seemed to imply a compressing of information and method, pinning it in the glare.
XE 19’s company were also present. Time was obviously running out. Gervaise Allenby’s boat would be on immediate stand-by, engine defects or not.
One of the two Nor
wegian officers was speaking now. His low voice reminded Seaton of Jens. And the girl. Was she still at the same place? Hiding in fear of her life. Or already … He made himself listen, to control his anxiety.
‘Some months ago there was an explosion aboard a freighter, here.’ The Norwegian moved a pointer along a plan of the harbour. ‘Accident or sabotage, we do not know. The vessel took fire, and was a real risk to others close by.’ The pointer moved on. ‘The Germans decided to warp her away. Let her sink rather than allow the fires to spread. There was an ammunition ship quite close.’ The man’s sad face softened into a smile. ‘No matter. One of your submarines sank the ammunition ship on her next trip.’
The other Norwegian, a bluff, heavy commander, said, ‘So the wreck is lying apart from the main channels, well marked by buoys.’ He looked hard at Seaton. ‘The sea-bed is good there. You can set down on the bottom and await final instructions.’
The British intelligence officer nodded. ‘We suspect that the article you are to obtain for us is also in that wreck. We will know more when you have made contact.’
Captain Trenoweth had entered the room without anyone hearing. He asked quietly, ‘Do you have any questions?’
Seaton turned, seeing Allenby watching him curiously, Drake’s eyes shining in the overhead lamp above his shoulder.
‘What exactly is this “article”, sir?’
The intelligence officer cleared his throat. ‘It is part of a guidance system for a rocket. We know something of the enemy’s work in this field, naturally. But this would really tell us how far they have got, and what we can expect. Range and trajectory, some idea of the scope of the whole weapon, should it be brought to bear before we can knock it out.’
Trenoweth said coldly, ‘Thank you.’ To Seaton he added, ‘Does that help?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Seaton tried to make a mental picture of the man who held the secret. One who could bargain his country’s secrets for some sort of sanctuary.
Trenoweth said, ‘The man is not German, by the way.’ He looked at the two Norwegians and added gently, ‘We all have traitors somewhere along the line.’
The Norwegian commander shrugged. ‘It may be difficult to make the local Resistance accept our “bargain”. A Quisling deserves only death.’ He looked at Seaton gravely. ‘Be patient with them. They are fighting their war with no less courage than the rest of us, yes?’
The operations officer stepped up to the table. ‘Now to work. XE 16 has been overhauled and is at present on passage to the Shetlands. This time there will be the usual arrangements for passage crew up to the moment of slipping the tow.’ He smiled. ‘We want you all bright and eager. There may be quite a bit extra to do on this one. I suggest you all turn in and get some sleep. You’ll be picked up tomorrow and flown to the nearest airstrip.’
Seaton was glad it was over. Before the actual moment of departure there would be more instructions, new ideas. Now, he needed to be alone.
Outside in the draughty passageway Allenby said, ‘I’m going to have a noggin, old son.’ He did not ask Seaton to join him. He understood well enough.
Seaton asked quietly, ‘Does anyone know what happened to Rupert Vanneck’s boat?’
‘They won’t say where it happened.’ Allenby added bitterly, ‘We’re too young to be told! But apparently XE 17 was on passage when the tow snapped in bad weather. Worst part was that the towing submarine never realised what had happened until the moment to surface and do a battery charge. So nobody knows exactly.’
Seaton tried not to think about it. The midget would probably have had her bows well trimmed down to compensate for the tow and the bad weather. When the line parted she would start to dive immediately, headlong and out of control, unless the men on watch had been able to act at once. They obviously had not. XE 17’s fate might remain a mystery, which only the depth of water could determine. Lying crippled on the sea-bed, her crew dying in slow despair, or plunging into deeper darkness until the small hull was finally crushed flat by the mounting pressure. It was no choice at all.
He touched Allenby’s arm. ‘Bed.’
‘Good idea, old son. Sorry I had to drag you into this because of my mechanical problems. Still, your diver is better than my chap. He can’t find a hearse in a bloody thimble!’
Seaton went to his room and switched on an electric fire. Then he sat on his bed and thought about Vanneck and about his own crew. Drake with his guilt. Niven, strangely withdrawn but outwardly unscarred by his experiences. And poor Alec Jenkyn. Back from his leave, and another funeral. Seaton did not proceed further to examine his own reserves.
Instead he thought of his father, recalling with sudden clarity the stories about his service in the army on the Western Front. Of gaunt, ashen-faced infantry tramping up the line at night to find death in the morning.
Perhaps that was what had changed him and turned his wife against him?
He thought too of his last telephone call and the woman who had answered it. It had not been the same one he had met at the pub.
Somewhere outside the building he heard Captain Trenoweth’s old dog give three hoarse barks. That was his ritual offering. Like the sunset gun.
How those two Norwegians must envy men like Trenoweth, he thought. In his own country, with his friends around him. And his silly old dog.
Seaton rolled sideways on to the bed and was instantly asleep.
Forty-eight hours after leaving Loch Striven for the Shetlands, Seaton and his companions were on the move again.
As he lay on a spare bunk in the towing submarine’s wardroom, Seaton stared up at the curved deckhead and listened to the throaty beat of diesels.
It was strange how you got used to things. When he had first gone to sea in a submarine he had imagined it so suffocating, so terribly enclosed, that he would be found unsuitable after one trip. But now, after serving in the tiny X-craft, an ordinary submarine seemed unimaginably spacious.
He felt the gentle pressure of the bunk against his body, and pictured the boat thrusting steadily out to sea, keeping on the surface for as long as possible to make good speed and to charge batteries. Somewhere, lost in spray and darkness astern, the little midget would be following obediently to her tow-line. The passage crew would get little rest, he thought grimly. With the tragic loss of Vanneck’s boat on their minds there would be no need to warn them about vigilance.
He heard low voices beyond the bunk curtains as two of the submarine’s officers prepared to go on watch. It felt safe and snug behind the curtain. A private world.
Seaton thought suddenly of Drake’s face just an hour or so before they had sailed. An intelligence officer had been giving some last minute details about coastal shipping around Bergen, and had said, almost as an afterthought, ‘By the way, Captain Venables wanted you to see these pictures. The R.A.F. managed to fly a photographic recce over your fjord. Some of the shots are quite good, under the circumstances.’
Even the term ‘your fjord’ had sounded obscene. Despite the stiffness of the aerial photographs it had all been there. The great, echoing explosion which had followed XE 16 far out to sea. The devastation no less terrible because of distance.
Of the Hansa there had been nothing left to see, nor had Seaton expected it. But all along the side of the fjord the great juggernaut force of the combined explosions had scarred the land, as if a giant had scraped away the terrain with a wire brush. Pier, houses, all had gone, and every small inlet appeared to be filled with flotsam, broken boats and uprooted trees.
He had asked quietly, ‘How many hostages were there?’
The officer had replied, ‘Upwards of fifty. God knows how many of the Germans went for a Burton.’ The casualness of one not involved.
Afterwards Drake had tried to explain his own feelings. ‘I had no idea, Dave. Not the faintest inkling. I watched your eye at the ’scope, as I always do, I did what was expected of me. And all that bloody time you were carrying it, holding it all in your gut. Knowing w
hat was going to happen.’
It had been a mixture of shocked admiration and shame.
‘And to think I’ve been bothering you about my petty problems.’ He had reached out impetuously. ‘Christ, Dave, if it happens again, share it with me. I’ll not be able to offer much, but at least you won’t have to shoulder the whole works!’
Seaton heard the muffled shouts of orders, the warning klaxon in the control room. Diving, to the more peaceful stability below.
They would have to shake themselves out of their gloom, he thought. Only Niven appeared unreached by the pressures, and when you thought about it, he had no right to be.
He rolled over and pulled the damp blanket up to his ears.
On the opposite side of the wardroom Drake was also wide awake, his fingers interlocked behind his head.
Decia returned to his thoughts whenever he left his defences down, and he imagined he could feel her supple body writhing in his arms, her mouth driving him insane with passion. Above and below him, she had been everywhere. A torment, a frenzied need.
His ears popped as the submarine’s diesels cut out and were instantly replaced by the low purr of electric motors. Air hissed from the saddle-tanks, and as metal creaked and protested above his bunk the bows tilted downwards.
Drake remembered Seaton’s pale face at the periscope as he had started that last attack on the Hansa. How could he do it? With a net being unexpectedly laid across his line of retreat, and knowing all the while about the wretched hostages who were soon to die, he had still gone through every motion as if they had been on an exercise.
Nobody could stand that sort of strain for long. Everyone said so. But what was the answer? Like that bloody ghoul and ‘your fjord’. Pity he didn’t get out and discover what it was like.
Jenkyn was sitting in a corner of the petty officers’ mess, keeping out of the way as the business of diving was completed stage by stage.
Jenkyn did not think much about the mission, but then he never did. What was the use? It only added to anxiety and sweat.
He did think about the funeral, however. The big grave, the rain, and usual embarrassment.
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