The name at the top was Britta's. Apart from a file reference there was little else except for the line which stood out like fire. No further action by naval intelligence. Subject arrested by gestapo.
Theil did not remember locking the desk drawer, or even groping his way from the office.
The young officer snapped to attention and said, 'Nothing more from that station, sir. I -' He stared after Theil as he blundered past him and out of the W/T room.
Theil fought his way to the upper deck and clung to the safety rail by a watertight door for several minutes.
Britta arrested? It could not be. For an instant he was tempted to rush back there and read the file again. But it was true. It had to be.
Britta arrested. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut to find her face as he had last seen her. But all he could see was the empty house and dead flowers, the neighbours watching behind their curtains, the doctor's calculated advice.
He wanted to scream it out aloud. They all knew, must have done. Leitner, and that crawling Bauer. He thought of Hechler, his mind reeling like a trapped animal. He would know too, had probably been told weeks ago.
He allowed his mind to rest on the Gestapo. He had always avoided contact with them like most people. Secrecy had not always worked, and he had ignored that too.
But he had heard things. Torture, brutality for the sake of it. He thought of her face, her pleading eyes, the bruise on her body after she had tried to find out about her parents.
Gestapo. It was not just a word any more. It was death.
The ship began to shake and quiver around him and he knew they were increasing speed towards the tiny islet.
What should he do or say?
He turned his face this way and that, clinging to the rail as if he might otherwise fall.
Britta was dead, or was she even now screaming out her pleas to her torturers?
'No!' His one cry was torn from him, but rebounded against the iron plate as if it too was trapped and in agony.
Chapter Fourteen
'Auf Wiedersehen . . .'
Oberleutnant Hans Bauer strode down the steep, rocky slope and stared at the two float-planes as they lifted and swayed in the swell. They were safe enough, moored with their small anchors, and each with its pilot aboard in case the sea should get up.
Bauer stood with his feet planted apart, his fine black boots setting off his uniform to perfection. The heavy pistol at his waist, like the silk scarf thrown casually around his throat, gave him a dramatic appearance, or so he believed. He had enjoyed every moment of it, the culmination of surprise and excitement when the two rubber dinghies had been paddled furiously ashore ,md his men rounded up their prisoners.
It had gone almost perfectly, but for one unexpected development. There had been two extra people at the radio station. He now knew they were mechanics who had been left here for some maintenance work.
Bauer considered what he would say to the rear-admiral.
Leitner would give him the praise he was due for his quick thinking. He shaded his eyes to watch the cruiser's shortened silhouette as she headed towards the small islet, only her bow-wave revealing the speed she was making through the water. After she had lopped the hard horizon line in the early light she had seemed to take an age to gather size and familiarity, he thought. He went over the landing, the exhilaration giving way to sudden alarm as the two additional men had appeared. Yes, Leitner would be pleased. He frowned. He was not so sure about the captain.
He turned, his boots squeaking on the rough ground, and surveyed the desolated station. A long, curved corrugated building which the British called a Nissen hut, and two radio masts, one small, the other very high and delicate. It was a wonder it could withstand the gales.
He saw two of his men, their Schmeissers crooked in their arms, and congratulated himself on his choice. Hand-picked, and all good Party members. It was right that they should profit by this small but obviously vital operation.
Closer to the building lay a corpse, covered by a sheet which was pinned down by heavy rocks.
One of the visiting mechanics. He had seen the landing party, and had turned, blundering through his astonished companions, and run towards the building. To send a message, a warning, or to sabotage the equipment, Bauer did not know even now.
He remembered his own feeling as the heavy Luger had leaped in his grip, the man spinning round, his eyes wide with horror as he had rolled down the slope kicking and choking. The second bullet had finished all movement. After that, the others had crowded together, shocked and frightened, seeing only the levelled guns, the sprawled body of the dead man.
Bauer had told them to obey each order without hesitation, and after the building had been thoroughly searched, the radio transmitter checked for demolition charges, they had been locked in a storeroom and left under guard.
Bauer adjusted his cap at a more rakish angle, rather as the rear-admiral wore his. Such a fine officer, an example to them all.
He saw the petty officer, a grim-faced man called Maleg, coming down the slope, two grenades bouncing on his hip. He was not one of Bauer's choice for the raid. He thought of Theil who had detailed the man for the operation. Bauer was suddenly grateful he had never cultivated Theil as anything more than a superior officer. He had had everything within his grasp, and had been stupid, instead of taking full advantage of his position. He owed everything to the Fatherland, everything. How could such a man become involved with a subversive, a traitor? He should have known his own wife better than anyone. He sighed. Instead -
The petty officer saluted. 'About the burial, sir?'
Bauer eyed him coldly. The prisoners will do it. It should dampen anyone else's foolishness!'
Maleg stared past him at the distant cruiser. They had found no weapons, no demolition charges either. Even the prisoners were harmless civilians. It was all the lieutenant's fault, but any after-math would be shared amongst them. Bauer had enjoyed killing the man, he decided. Given half a chance he would have gunned down all the rest. Maleg knew about officers like Bauer. Why had he been the one to get saddled with him?
I.ater as the prisoners stabbed at the rocky ground with picks and spades, Bauer entered the makeshift radio station and looked with disdain at the garish pictures on the walls, the nudes and the big-breasted girls in next to nothing. Decadent. How could they have hoped to win the war, even with the Yanks as allies?
He pictured his family home in Dresden, the paintings of his ancestors, proud, decorated officers. A heritage which was a constant reminder of his own role and his promising future. Leitner had promised him an immediate promotion with an appointment to the naval staff as soon as they returned to a safe harbour. Bauer was not so blind that he did not know about the rear-admiral's relationship with Theissen, his flag-lieutenant, but nothing could mar his qualities as a leader and an inspiration.
Maleg watched him and was glad that the ship was getting nearer. The Prinz was something he could understand and work in. He had good comrades in the petty officers' mess. He sniffed at the aroma of fresh coffee from the hut's spindly chimney. It was quite amazing. They had proper coffee and piles of tinned food which he had almost forgotten. He would take some back with him to the mess, he thought. He tried not to dwell on an old newspaper called Daily Mail he had found in the sleeping quarters. He could read English fairly well, but even if he had not been able to, the war maps and photographs with their screaming headlines would have told him anyway. The Allies were said to be through France and Belgium, and the only German resistance was in isolated pockets in Brittany and the Pas de Calais. The sites of the rockets and flying-bombs, the much-vaunted secret weapons, were said to be overrun, their menace removed for all time. It could not all be true. There was mention of some 400,000 German troops being taken prisoner. That could not be accurate, surely?
And the newspaper was not new . What had happened while t hey had been attacking the convoy? He considered himself to be a good petty officer, and he ha
d destroyed the newspaper before the others could see it.
He looked round as he heard Bauer reading crisply from a small pray er book while the others stood leaning on their spades. Maleg wanted to spit. Kill a man, then send him off with full respects. He watched as Bauer threw up a stiff Nazi salute, then pocketed the prayer book with the same detachment he had shown when he had reholstered his Luger.
The spades moved again and Bauer marched towards the hut.
He said, 'Duty is duty, Maleg, no matter what.'
The petty officer sat down on a rock and waited for one of the men to bring him his coffee.
Suppose. The word hung in his mind. Just suppose they lost the war. It was unthinkable of course, but if the Prinz was down here in the South Atlantic, what then?
He turned and peered out at the ship, which in the last minutes seemed to have doubled in size.
Hechler would get them home somehow.
The first Arado was being hoisted up from alongside, many hands reaching out to boom it away from the hull as the ship dipped heavily in the surrounding current.
Leitner had come down to the forebridge, and his cigar smoke drifted over the screen like perfume.
Leitner said, 'Like clockwork. What did I tell you, eh?' He was almost jocular. 'God, what a coup it will be.'
Hechler trained his binoculars on the lonely station. They would land a small party with two of the ship’s wireless telegraphists. They would have all the right codes, and even if they had been changed by the enemy, no one would question their one frantic call for help. Several things could go wrong, of course. A vessel might unexpectedly arrive on a visit to the islet. If that happened, a prearranged alarm signal would be made, and the Prinz would be on her own again. Or the fuel convoy might be delayed or rerouted. That was so unlikely it could almost be discounted.
What else then? They might meet with enemy warships, be held down to an engagement until heavier forces arrived to join the battle. He had gone over the rendezvous points with Gudegast; there were three possible choices, and the supply submarines would be on station whatever happened.
He glanced at Leitner. The admiral was nobody's fool, and would want to return to Germany as soon as the next convoy was destroyed. They might fall upon other ships on the return passage, small convoys, single fast-moving troopers too.
There was a blackout on Allied radio communications, or so it seemed. The enemy must be puzzled about their sources of fuel supply, and it was likely that all other convoys in the Atlantic hud been held up in their ports until the raider's position was verified.
Hechler was a practical sailor but had never ruled out the value o! luck. Theirs simply could not last, and he had often imagined some special task force fanning out from Biscay for a sweep south in pursuit. They would have carriers, or at least one. Just a single sighting report was all the enemy admiral needed.
I;eet clattered on the ladder and Theil entered the bridge, his eyes concealed by dark glasses.
He said, 'I've sent a double anchor party up forrard, sir, and given orders to break the cable if need be.'
Leitner's shoulders shook in a small chuckle. 'More caution, cli?'
Theil ignored him. 'Have you selected the men to remain on the islet, sir?'
Hechler looked at him. 1 have spoken to the doctor, Viktor. Three are still in sick-bay after being thrown from their feet.'
Theil replied, 'I have their names, sir. I did think they were malingering.' His voice was quite flat and toneless.
Hechler turned so that Leitner should not hear. 'Are you all right?'
Theil straightened his shoulders. 'I am.'
Hechler nodded. 'Good. We can land the two survivors also.'
Leitner turned. 'When they are picked up eventually, nobody can say we were not humane!' It seemed to amuse him.
Theil stared past him. 'A man was killed over at the radio station.'
Hechler exclaimed angrily, 'When? Why was I not told immediately?'
Leitner said, '/ was informed. You were busy anchoring the ship, remember?'
Hechler recalled Bauer reporting aboard when a landing party had been sent to relieve him. An hour ago? It seemed like minutes.
Theil had a hand to his chest as if he was in pain but dropped it as he explained, 'Bauer shot one of the mechanics.' He waited and added harshly, A civilian.'
Leitner swung round again. 'In God's name, man, what do you expect? I will not have our people put at risk for any reason! Bauer acted as he thought fit. I will uphold his decision. Millions have died in this war, and millions more will follow, I have no doubt!' He was shouting, ignoring the men on watch nearby. 'One bloody shooting is not my paramount concern, thank you, sir!'
Theil eyed him blankly from behind the dark glasses.
'Evidently, sir.' He turned and hurried from the bridge.
'Now what the hell was that all about?' Leitner grinned, but his eyes remained like cold glass.
Hechler thought he knew Theil. Now he was not sure of anything. He said, 'Nobody wants to see non-combatants killed, sir. I'll grant that it may have been necessary in this case. However
Leitner sniffed. ‘However sums it up, I think!'
Hechler was suddenly sick of him, even of Theil. When the latter discovered - he raised his binoculars to watch the party on the beach to hide his sudden apprehension. Suppose Theil already knew? How could he? As captain he had been told nothing until Leitner's anger had let the news spill out about Theil's poor wife.
Strain, combat fatigue, the yearning for a command of his own, of this ship most of all - moulded together they could have this effect on him.
Leitner said, 'You can speak to the men you have detailed. It will come better from you.' He was calm again, but as their eyes met Hechler could sense the spite in his casual remark.
Tell them you are leaving them behind. Why? For Germany? Would it be enough this time? He gritted his teeth. It was all they had.
He said, 'Tell the sick-bay I am coming down.'
Jaeger picked up a handset and watched him walk past.
Command - was this what it meant? Was this what it might do to the man who held it?
Leiter snapped, 'Don't gape! Do as you're told! By God, I intend to produce a full report on all this when we get back to Germany!'
A messenger called nervously, 'Camera team request permission to come to the bridge, sir.'
Leitner moved away from the side and loosened the collar of his white tunic.
'Of course.' He glanced at the others, Gudegast brooding by the chart-table, the petty officer of the watch, young Jaeger, and the rest of those subservient faces.
All honour will be shown to this ship, gentlemen. A film which our children will remember!'
Gudegast watched him march to the rear of the bridge. Children? The admiral would have no problems there, he thought.
The ship was still in a state of immediate readiness, if not at action stations. On the petty officers' mess-deck, the air was hissing out of the shafts, compressed and smelling faintly of oil. The deadlights were screwed shut, and most of the watertight doors clipped home. The ship was stopped but only resting, and even the fans and muffled generators sounded wary and ready to switch to full power.
The small cluster of men at the end of one of the tables appeared to be engrossed in the one who was seated, his fingers busily arranging a pattern of coloured glass under an overhead light. Acting Petty Officer Hans Stoecker watched the man's hands working nimbly with the newly cut pieces of glass. Rudi hammer was putting the finishing touches to yet another small box, a present perhaps for a wife or girlfriend. It was nerve-racking, unbearable, and yet Stoecker knew he must not break the silence. Opposite him, his grey head bowed with no outward show of impatience, Oskar Tripz also watched the box taking shape.
The fingers eased a fragment over and snipped a rough edge away. The man nicknamed Mad Rudi was pale in every respect, hair and lashes, even his skin; he was not far removed from an albino.
; Stoecker tried not to think of that day when an unknown hand had given him the letter. The rest was a nightmare.
He glanced at the other petty officer named Elmke, a dour, humourless man whose only friend in the ship, it seemed, was Tripz.
Stoecker wanted to wipe his face. It felt wet with sweat. The sealed air perhaps? He knew otherwise. It was uncontrollable tear and disgust at what he had begun.
It had all seemed like a daring exploit when he had shared the letter with Tripz. He was friend and mentor all in one. But it had got out of hand. Even the boatswain Brezinka was implicated, and now Mad Rudi and Elmke,
He concentrated on the pattern of glass. What would his mother say, and his father when he found out? It had all been so simple, so right. As if it was a kind of destiny. Even meeting with
Sophie. He turned the thought aside. She had been with Jaeger. An officer.
Tripz said, 'Well, come along, old fellow, spit it out!' He was grinning, but the tension was clear in his voice. 'We have to know, God damn it!'
Hammer put down the flat-jawed pliers he used for snapping off excess glass. 'I nearly broke that piece!' He shook his head. After the war they will need all the glaziers in the world to put the cities together again, you'll see!'
Tripz patted his shoulder. 'God, man, if it's true what we think, you can buy your own glass factory!'
Hammer smiled. He was always such a gentle, reserved man. In his petty officer's uniform he looked like an imposter.
He said severely, 'Well, it wasn't easy, I can tell you.'
Elmke said roughly, 'Come on, man!'
Tripz shot him a warning glance. 'Easy, Ludwig! Give him time!'
Hammer smiled. It is true. I opened just two of the boxes.' He spread his hands. 'Jewels by the thousand, gems of every kind. Gold too. A factory, Oskar? I could buy a whole town with my share.'
The others stared at each other but Stoecker felt as if his guts were being crushed.
They were speaking of a share. It was all accepted, decided even.
He heard himself say in little more than a whisper, But if we're found out?'
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