“So, what is it about these two Nazis, that make them so special?”
“Not special, Annabelle, just fascinating. These were two of the most powerful men in Nazi Germany. Next to Adolf Hitler and Martin Bormann.”
She looked suddenly tired and slightly dazed. “Pops, what’s this all about?”
“I don’t know? But one things for sure, I’m going to find out.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Do you remember my old university room mate, Edward LevensonJones?”
“The one that used to wear those awfully gaudy dickey-bow ties, and work for MI5 or whatever it’s called? Of course, I met him four years ago at that official party we all went to in London.”
“Well I phoned him earlier this morning. He retired from the security service some time ago, but we’ve always kept in touch, and as luck would have it he’s now with a specialist firm, still closely associated with the Government, and has access to all sorts of official German records from the last war. He’s already learnt that the U-boat is surrounded by mystery, and was supposed to have been sunk - twice!”
She looked at her father in bewilderment. “So what does it all mean?”
“The letters are specific about two things. The first is that the mission was vital to Germany winning the war, and secondly.” He paused, “secondly, there is a reference to the Fuhrer’s special cargo that the U-boat was carrying. After I’d finished talking to LJ, I decided to look on the internet for any information relating the cargo. And it appears that the cargo was supposed to be a priceless religious artefact called, the Spear of Destiny.”
“So what’s so special about this spear?”
“Only God knows that, Annabelle. But, what I do know is that Hitler had flirted with the supernatural, and the occult for many years, long before he became Fuhrer.”
He shook his head. “LJ is going to look into the history of it, and all I really know is that I’ve found this submarine, and that because of the implications to the island, should its whereabouts become public knowledge, LJ has sworn me to secrecy.”
He stood up, and walked down the steps to the slipway that led onto the sandy beach. Annabelle who had never seen him so excited, got up, and followed him down to where he was stood with his hands in his pockets, and looking out to sea. She put her arm through his and gave it a squeeze. “You go and see your friend LJ, he’ll know what to do. But if you’d like me to go with you, I’ll get Kate to look after things here?”
“No, you stay here, I’ll be okay, I’m looking forward to seeing the old rogue. After all we’ve not seen each other for well over three years, which means that we’ve got an awful lot of catching up to do.”
“Well, only if you’re sure, Pops,” she gave him a wan smile. “But, I’ll have no arguments. I’m packing your overnight bag for you, whether you like it or not. I know what you’re like, you’re bound to forget something or other. Come on, lets get back home and start sorting you out.”
* * * The helicopter flight up to London was uneventful except for strong headwinds that held them back over the channel, so that the landing at city heli-pad was later than Nathan had anticipated, around five o’clock. Walking out into the main foyer, he spotted a uniformed chauffeur standing by a big silver Mercedes saloon. A small board in his hand with the name Cunningham, type written across the middle of it. Nathan was greeted, and the rear door opened for him.
Luxurious soft leather wrapped itself around him as he sat back and enjoyed the opulence of the vehicle’s interior. He opened the case, and browsed through it for a while, not just the U-boat log but the routine documents, and the two letters. It was these that intrigued him the most, with their reference to the mystical spear that the submarine was transporting.
He closed the case and put it back into his overnight bag. The journey across to the other side of the city would take no more than forty-five minutes, and as the car made its way slowly through the late afternoon traffic, Nathan stared out of the darkened glass window. His thoughts were with U-683, and that final ending inside the cavern.
Why had Korvetenkapitan’s Otto Sternberg been ordered to Jersey, and what had happened to his crew? Another strange thing was the amount of damage caused to the submarine’s superstructure. What had taken place all those years ago, on that last day of the war? The car stopped, the chauffeur got out, and opened the rear door.
Chapter Three
LONDON It was just before six o’clock when the internal telephone on Edward Levenson-Jones’ desk started to ring. Guy Roberts informed him that Commander Cunningham had just entered the building through the private side entrance, and was in the elevator that would bring him down to the Special Projects Department of Ferran & Cardini International. LJ stood in front of the metallic doors waiting to greet his old friend, who appeared a moment later with his overnight bag in one hand, and the bright silver aluminium briefcase in the other.
“Nathan you old sea dog, it’s good to see you. That Jersey air must be agreeable, you look absolutely great, old son. Come on through to my office. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” LJ said, as he guided him across the department to his private office suite.
“It’s so good to see you again, LJ. And a cup of tea would be fine, thank you.”
“Would you see to that Roberts?” LJ said as they passed by. “Oh, and I’ll have coffee, black and very strong.” He added over his shoulder, just before closing the door.
“Now old son, before I forget, I insist that you stay with me tonight at my apartment here in town. That is of course, if you have no other plans?”
“I’ve no other plans, and if you insist then who am I to argue?”
Roberts came in with the drinks, and LJ motioned Nathan to an old leather Chesterfield sofa that looked so out of place in the otherwise pristine and contemporary room. Nathan placed the briefcase on the coffee table in front of them, and said, “Well here it is.”
LJ leaned forward, and running his hands over the bright metal, he said. “Amazing.”
He took his time examining the Kriegsmarine insignia, and the red leaping devil that was etched across the centre of the lid then, he glanced up. “May I do the honours?”
“That’s why I came. Just slide the catches back, it’s unlocked.”
Resting his hands lightly on either side of the case, LJ placed his thumbs over the catches and pushed outwards. They sprang open with a snap and a thud. The lid was opened. Picking up the submarine logbook he randomly opened a page, looking at it briefly, before closing it up again and placing the book on the table. He pulled out, and quickly read through, the various documents that were held together inside a plain brown envelope.
“These are, as you said on the phone, just routine records, some are basic food and provisions request forms, and the others are mechanical service records. They are all dated, by the looks of it, just a few days before they embarked on that last mission.”
He ran fingers through his fair hair and readjusted his fine gold wire framed spectacles, before adding. “This is very odd, old son, there should be records from the day this U-boat was commissioned, not as these are, for just the one mission.”
LJ went over to his desk, typing in the password to allow him access to the central archive database. “Here we are, Nat come and have a look at this. U-683 should have documentation dating from the twenty third of December 1942. Umm, there seems to be intrigue and mystery everywhere, my friend.”
“I’d say,” Nathan said.
Walking back over to the sofa, LJ slumped heavily down onto the worn leather, and sitting there, said. “Umm,” at least, half a dozen times, before picking up the logbook, and glancing at the first page again. “Lovely handwriting and surprisingly legible.” He started to read. “Some of these entries are very brief though. Can’t be more than twentyfive to thirty pages at the most.”
“As I remember it, you are not only able to speak and write fluently in German, but to actually think like a German as well,” Nathan said.
/> “You have a good memory, old son. And, I’m sure you also remember that I’m one of those annoying individuals, who find it absolutely natural to do so.” With the logbook still in his hand, he stood up and went back over to his desk, sitting down in front of the computer screen.
“However, I’m not going to waste time reading through every entry. Instead I’ll let our very expensive state of the art software do it for us, once I’ve scanned in the pages and the two letters, it should only take a matter of seconds to translate. Then with the wonders of modern technology it will be projected onto the screen over there.”
LJ, held up a small black remote control, and pointed it at the wall in front of the sofa where Nathan was sitting. A panel in the ceiling moved silently back allowing a large projection screen to automatically drop down. Seconds later the first page of the translated logbook appeared on the silvery white panel, and then disappeared again.
LJ sat at his desk, quickly working his fingers over the keyboard as he typed in the command sequence to enable the computer to translate the German text into English. There was a look of intense concentration on his face.
Nathan said cheerfully, “What happens next?”
“Please, old son, be patient.”
Nathan sighed, sitting back in the leather sofa, and drinking what was left of his tea. It was quiet in the office except for the sound of LJ tapping away at the keyboard, when suddenly, he said, “Great heavens above!” and then a few minutes later, “It can’t possibly be true.”
“Tell me LJ, what is it?”
“Please Nat, one minute old son, I’m almost there and then I’ll put it all up on the big screen for you.”
Nathan sat there for what seemed like ages, the anticipation of what was to come, rising in him again, as it had done earlier that morning when he’d swam in to the cavern.
“There, finished.” LJ exclaimed, prodding the return key with his index finger, before getting up and walking back to where Nathan was sitting on the sofa.
“Well, what do you think? Does the logbook have anything of interest to say?”
“Of interest?” LJ raised his eyebrows and smiled. “That’s the understatement of the year, old son. The text that you are now viewing on screen, shows a complete page or one-day if you like of the submarine’s journey. But, I have to say Nat, that this is, in my humble opinion, merely a personal diary of events and is most definitely not the U-boat official log. Korvetenkapitan’s Otto Sternberg, obviously felt uneasy about that final voyage. So much so, that he should try and cover himself in some way, I’m only guessing of course. But even so, what we have here is pretty sensational. The question is, how we are going to handle it?”
“What do you mean, handle it?”
“Here, take this remote control, if you push the blue button once, the next page will come up onto the screen. Read, what Sternberg wrote, it will make things somewhat clearer. I’ll go and get us some more tea and coffee.”
Nathan took off his glasses, and polished the lenses on a corner of the clean handkerchief that Annabelle had placed neatly in the breast pocket of his jacket, before he had left that morning. He looked up at the large screen and started to carefully read the translation of page one.
17th April 1945, St. Nazaire, France. I, Korvettenkapitan Otto Sternberg, wish to put down on paper my own personal account of the strange mission that I now find myself embarking upon. My crew and I have worked tirelessly throughout the day, loading into the cargo hold a number of small heavy metal ammunition boxes. The orders are very specific, and state that we are to proceed southwards and to surface just off the coast of Lisbon in Portugal. My command is U683. Gross Admiral Donitz has ordered me to pick up an official of the Gestapo and proceed to the island of Sicily in the Mediterranean, where we will rendezvous with a local fishing vessel. My passenger will be fully briefed, but the skeleton crew of ten men and I will be kept completely uninformed. He carries direct orders from the Fuhrer as well as endorsements of authority from Heinrich Himmler and Gross Admiral Donitz. I’m finding this hard, as Commander in charge of this submarine. I am to take all orders from him, without question.
Nathan pushed the blue button, scrolling through the next few pages. For nine days, Sternberg reported nothing more than routine sailing on the surface, using the cover of darkness at night, and then just below the ocean top during daylight hours, using the submarine’s Schnorchel mast.
This allowed the diesel engines to run while the boat was submerged and reduced detection by radar, it also enabled the batteries to be charged day and night while underway at speed. His course had taken him from the U-boat pens of St. Nazaire, down to Lisbon in Portugal and then back out into the Atlantic and southwards. He then made his way towards Africa, around the Cape of Good Hope and then northwards again, passing Madagascar on his way to the Red Sea. Through the Suez Canal and eventually out into the Mediterranean and the island of Sicily.
29th April 1945. 0345 hrs, just before dawn, Herr Kessler issued me with orders to come to the surface two miles off the coast of Sicily. We have rendezvoused with a small fishing vessel, and taken on board the mysterious cargo, which has now been placed in the hold, and is strictly off limits to everyone, including myself. I am placing on record, that under threat of execution, my First Lieutenant Dieter Schaffer and I, were ordered to use our twenty millimetre deck guns to fire on, and murder the captain and crew of the fishing boat, and then to scuttle his vessel. This is an extraordinary mission made even stranger by Kessler handing me two letters from Himmler and Gross Admiral Donitz. They inform me that the cargo we are transporting is an important religious artefact called the Spear of Destiny, and that its power will ensure the future of the Third Reich.
Nathan got up from the sofa after reading this entry, and walked around the office to stretch his legs. LJ came in with a tray of tea and coffee, and a plate full of sandwiches.
LJ said, “Here’s some more tea and coffee, and I thought a sandwich or two wouldn’t go amiss. How far have you got?”
“Up to where the submarine rendezvoused with the Sicilian fishing boat. What an appalling business that must have been?”
“I agree, but we mustn’t forget, those were very fraught times Nat. You know as well as I do, that given the nature of the sub’s mission. Well, they would have had to maintain absolute secrecy and it would have been that Gestapo fellow Kessler who would have stopped at nothing to meet that objective. But, don’t think for one moment that I’m condoning what happened all those years ago, quite the contrary.” LJ said, as he simultaneously sat down, and picked up a ham sandwich, devouring half of it in one bite.
Nathan brought up the next entry and sitting on the edge of LJ’s desk continued to read. 29th April 1945. 0420 hrs, we have got underway immediately, for our return voyage. I envisage using the Strait of Gibraltar to take us back out into the Atlantic Ocean with a clear run up the coast of Portugal and France, and then in to the English Channel. My orders are to proceed with no radio contact for the duration of the journey.
29th April 1945. 2100 hrs, Herr Kessler has come to my quarters to inform me that the island of Jersey will be our final destination, and has requested to see the chart for that area of the English Channel. He instructed the most northern side of the island for us to surface. He gave no indication or reason why we are doing this.
The two men sat at either end of the sofa eating their way through the plate of ham sandwiches while reading the Korvettenkapitan’s account of the uneventful journey back up to the island of Jersey. Nathan scrolled through the daily entries, until he came to the final one.
8th May 1945. Midnight. I have just been on the bridge with Kessler, and he has been signalled from the shore by spotlight. I feel apprehensive as his orders are very precise, but go against everything that is sane. We are to move our position to within fifty metres off the hostile and violent looking shoreline, and to then dive at high tide to the seabed, that is, only twenty to twenty-five metres in depth. This g
ives me concern because, although the ocean tonight, is relatively calm and the wind light, I can see that the waters around this island are unpredictable, and can still be very shallow in places. When in position, we are to proceed all ahead slow towards the shore for exactly three minutes. I believe these to be the orders of a mad man.
Below this final entry, were a few hastily scribbled words slanting across the page. Have come to the surface inside a large cave, SS troops waiting, and have ordered us to open cargo hatch. Everything starting to shake, rocks are falling, and mist everywhere. May God take pity on our souls, for I know, that we are all going to die.
“And he was right, they did all die. But what puzzles me, is where are the remains of the U-boat crew and all of those SS troops, now? Something must have happened so quickly that they had no time to escape. Leaving them, and the submarine trapped inside that cavern where you found her.” LJ said.
“It certainly looks that way, but what about this for a theory.” Nathan said. “Could it be remotely possible, and I know this is going to sound absolutely potty. But, just suppose for one second, that when those Nazis opened up the cargo hatch. Just consider, what if this spear that they were transporting, really did have magical powers?”
“Umm, I’ve given that a second’s thought Nat. And I fear old friend, that it’s a little far fetched, even for you. But I still find it hard to believe that no one has ever discovered this cavern and the sub before.”
“Well it doesn’t surprise me,” Nathan said, matter of factly. “For a start, no one ever dives in that place because it’s usually like a maelstrom of turbulent water and very dangerous rock formations. Even the professional divers on the island won’t go anywhere near the place because of the conditions that prevail. Also, if the recent storm hadn’t made the surface unusually calm, and ripped out large patches of vegetation from the seabed, I would never have spotted the channel that led to the tunnel entrance. In fact, I would have sailed on by just as everyone else does.
Dead Men Don't Bite (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) Page 6