Diving Deep

by P D Singer

  This time Lee edged his hand into Bobby’s. Had they found the man who owned that razor? Felix dragged down another box, leaving the U-823 out on the table.

  “Last, we have the U-919. This Asbeck is Konrad, Signalmaat. A petty officer, not high enough ranking to sleep in the officers’ quarters. He could be your man because….” Another photograph in grainy black-and-white showed the four guns on the conning tower, crowded with young men who didn’t return.

  “Short of going back down and finding something else with identification, is there any way to determine which of these two boats it could be?” Lee asked.

  “Probably not.” Felix knitted his brows. “The boats’ missions might help you distinguish between them. Without knowing which boat could possibly be in the area you indicated, you would have to go look. And even so—”

  “The U-869 was supposed to be near Gibraltar,” Bobby and Lee finished for him.

  “It won’t be a perfect identification until we find something else with markings.” Lee reached for the photograph. “We’re much closer to knowing, though.”

  “Yes, you are.” Felix sorted a pile of documents from each box. “If you wish, you can copy crew lists and mission plans. And—” He stopped speaking, but the hope chased across his face. “Do you have any firsthand documentation that I could see? Pictures?”

  A quick squeeze of fingers said Lee agreed with him. “We have a considerable amount of video shot underwater, if you’d like to see it.”

  “Yes, yes, please!”

  Bobby activated the video and handed his phone over. Three dives of his own, plus the footage he’d dumped from his fellow divers’ cameras, strained the memory on his phone to the limit, but it was worth transferring every other picture to the hard drive to see Felix’s face now, his eyes wide and his lips parted. A quick glance at Lee netted him a smile and another squeeze.

  “Please, I must show this to my grandfather. He must see this,” Felix part begged, part commanded.

  “Sure. Okay.” Why not, unless Grandfather was in Hamburg or Düsseldorf?

  “Come, please, I’ll introduce you.” Felix bolted out and down the hall to rap on an open door’s jamb and then enter. Lee and Bobby followed more cautiously.

  “Großvater! Das musst du dir unbedingt anschauen! Diese Amerikaner haben eins von unseren U-Booten gefunden! Eins von den verschollenen!” He knelt next to a very old man whose hair was nearly gone but his neatly trimmed beard still luxuriant. Felix held the phone up, and Grandfather adjusted his glasses on his nose. “Grandfather, this is Bobby MacArthur and Lee Preston, from America. My grandfather, Horst Bredow, is the U-boat expert from the very beginning. This museum, this archive, exists because he made it exist. I only follow in his steps.”

  The pleasantries done, the two focused on the small screen. Very intently.

  “We’ll, uh, be photocopying. There’s eleven videos, so just keep going.” Bobby felt like he was spying on something holy.

  “Yes, yes, thank you.” Felix didn’t even look up, though Grandfather smiled at them briefly with his croaked thanks.

  That left Lee and Bobby alone with the photocopier, which seemed to run on euro as much as electricity. They fed the beast coins and bills until they had stacks too large to fit into their packs. “Wonder where we can get a suitcase. I’m not trusting this to the mail. I want to see them again.” Lee tried condensing a stack. It refused to compress.

  “And then we get to translate them.” They both might be fluent in German by the time they were done, at least for marine matters.

  “Place names shouldn’t be too hard.” Lee examined one of the mission briefs. “Guess I could get started. Such as it will be.”

  “If it comes up ‘earwigs,’ take another look.” Bobby couldn’t resist twitting Lee.

  “Hey, just because I got confused on mit and für. You got a good night’s sleep, didn’t you?” Bobby’s lascivious grin said he hadn’t minded the jest.

  “Yes. Yes, I did.” Even if they’d ended up in separate beds once the postcoital yawns got out of control.

  “Think we could go over to the museum and look around? They could be there a while.” Bobby thumbed through a leather-bound volume with typewritten columns headed in blackletter, specifying what looked like dates and conditions of Wind, Wetter, Seegang, and more. The details in the column marked Vorkommnisse began like a story he couldn’t comprehend—he was lost after “Ich bekomme….” “I wish I could understand this.”

  “Me too,” said his official hope for a translator. “How long will your battery hold out? We have more than seven hours from all the cameras.”

  “Not that long, which is a good thing. We do have a flight to catch.” The storm would have every particle of silt in the sea screwing up the viz for another day yet, but they’d have to recover from crossing all the time zones. “Not ’til nine, though, but we need to get back to Hamburg and through security.”

  Lee came to peek over Bobby’s shoulder at the typewritten book. “That would be completely fascinating if we could just understand it.” The observation came with a kisslet at the edge of Bobby’s ear. Did they have to be totally sappy, new-couple gooey again? Not that Bobby minded so much he didn’t crane around to get another one closer to his lips.

  “Ah, sorry. We seem to have run your battery down.” Felix stood in the doorway.

  Damned if he’d act guilty. Bobby met his eyes steadily and willed Lee not to flinch. Felix’s wink set everything to rights.

  “I can charge it up again, no problem.” Yup, that had been flirting earlier, though which one of them had he been flirting with? Or both? Not that Bobby minded the interest, particularly as there was no reason to do more than feel flattered. “I’ll upload these to the cloud and send you the link if you’d like to have the footage.”

  “Yes, very much so, please.” Felix glanced regretfully at the dead phone. “And any other documentation you might have. Or that you might get.”

  “We’ll make sure you get it” was an easy promise to make in exchange for more brain picking. “What is this?” Bobby gestured to the book.

  “I see you found the Kriegstagebuch. The official log. This was typed up from the notes in the captain’s log and from some of the other officers’ logs. The navigator, the radio officer, and others all kept logs.”

  “Any thoughts where they might be?” If the radio room turned up crickets, or he couldn’t get in, Bobby would look elsewhere. He’d look elsewhere anyway.

  “I couldn’t tell you, sorry. They might be at the stations or in the personal areas. You have found a detail we haven’t documented.”

  Well, hell. He might be making a lot of dives. Which would break his heart so much he’d dive again.

  “Do you have more questions? Anything I can help you with?” Felix asked.

  “Which items would be marked with the boat’s number?” Lee asked. “And where would they be?”

  “For that we need to cross the street back to the museum,” Felix decreed and launched into a fascinating two hours’ show-and-tell of machinery and survival gear, clothing and stores.

  They left with firm handshakes and promises of more information. “My grandfather lives for these discoveries, so thank you again.” Felix bid them farewell. “He yearns to make the archive complete. He has not much time left on this earth.”

  “We’ll let you know what we find,” Bobby promised. For the old man’s sake as well as their own now, he had to find the answer. “Lee, anything you want to do before we head to the train station? Buy a tacky souvenir? Lounge on the beach?”

  “No room on the boat for souvenirs, tacky or otherwise,” Lee countered. “And I don’t think we have time for lounging.” He checked his watch, a mariner’s chronograph Bobby had given him four years ago for his thirty-second birthday. “We have about forty minutes until the next train.”

  “A pity you are so short of time,” mused Felix. “There is a nice FKK beach nearby.”

  “What kind
of beach?” The letters had no meaning to Bobby, nor, judging from his face, for Lee.

  “Freikörperkultur. Clothing not required.” Felix didn’t break a smile, but something danced in his eyes. “This particular beach is very accepting of men who kiss men.”

  “Ah, we’ll keep that in mind for our next vacation.” Lee spoke for them both.

  FKK sounded a lot better when it was a matter of taking the Bottom Hunter down the coast and dropping anchor at a beach where no one else frolicked. The fall storms were upon them, so it might soon be time to cruise south. Hilton Head might be far enough. Bobby would check a map and the calendar when they got home.

  They settled for Felix taking a picture of both of them against the anchor in front of the Museum. One of them tended to be the photographer and the other the photographee—Bobby’s arm was long enough for selfies but his patience wasn’t. More mushy stuff happened—Bobby stole a kiss over the heavy iron flukes, and Lee kissed back with a soundtrack of mad clicking from Lee’s phone, and possibly from Felix’s.

  Bobby would have to print one out. It was the only one of its kind but exactly the souvenir of this trip he wanted.

  Chapter 17

  SO THEY were trying again. So far, so good. Bobby in his bed quieted the need for a drink—Lee never had been able to suck cock and suck down booze at the same time. He decided he liked tonic water and lemon better than the sweet drinks Alford had been pouring, but he’d choked down something soft and bubbly every night since they’d returned from Germany. It went okay with tonight’s cheeseburger. Probably better than it went with Bobby’s barbecue pork sandwich.

  “Told you, no reason you can’t have a beer if you want it.”

  Bobby chewed and swallowed a french fry. “Don’t want it. You took me to the Land of Beer, and nothing in this bar could possibly taste as good.” He did something lascivious to another fry, with motions too subtle for their fellow patrons to detect. Lee detected it just fine and had to look away before he reacted.

  Maybe he would have been better off watching Bobby’s show than catching Rafe Chatham’s eye.

  Rafe crossed the bar with an amber bottle of yuck in hand and plopped on the banquette next to Bobby. He leaned both elbows on the table, tipping beer into his mouth and managing to grin at the same time. “How was Germany?” he drawled.

  “Good trip,” Lee allowed.

  “Great. Did you see the Hotzensprung? Everyone has to see the Hotzensprung in Hamburg.” Rafe took another pull at the bottle.

  “We might have spent a few minutes looking.” Bobby tensed. “Didn’t get pictures.”

  “That’s too bad, it’s magnificent,” their would-be tour guide mourned. “Did you see the Rathburg?” He clunked his bottle down. “Don’t tell me you missed the Rathburg.”

  “Okay, we won’t tell you.”

  “Well, what did you think?” Rafe demanded.

  “Lovely as always.” Lee could do bland with the best of them. He was a shitty liar, though—should have prepared a cover story, but there weren’t so many folks who knew they were going.

  “Were you comfortable at the Haus am Meer?”

  “Very.” It better be dark enough in here to disguise the heat creeping up the back of Lee’s neck.

  Rafe slapped the table. “I knew it!”

  “Knew what?” Bobby had to capture his plate before it danced right off the edge.

  “You didn’t see the Hotzenthing or the Rathwhatsis—I made ’em up. You were there for submarines and nothing but submarines.” Rafe swung a steely glare back and forth between them. “You weren’t gone all that long, so give it up, boys. Tell Uncle Rafe all about the U-boats.”

  “Probably not much different than when you were there. The U-995’s still on the beach. The memorial’s still tall, there’s still a brass eagle at Möltenort.” Still the names of thousands of men who’d been spent in war, but Lee wasn’t going to open his heart that much to a man who drew conclusions.

  “Aaaaaand in Cuxhaven?” Rafe pounced. “What were you looking at in the museum? Don’t deny you were there—I can call Simone at the Gästehaus.”

  Oh hell no—Lee didn’t need Rafe talking to anyone who’d seen the condition they’d left the towels in. What could he say? He and Bobby were awfully glad to be back on good terms. “We looked at some documents. Had the guided tour through the museum. Fascinating stuff.”

  “Who gave you the tour? The old man, or the young guy?”

  “I don’t think Herr Bredow gets around too much anymore. He’s what? Ninety?” Lee could imagine the old man leaning heavily on his grandson’s arm to get out the door at the end of the day.

  “Right,” Rafe agreed. “Sounds like you met him.”

  “Briefly.” Bobby doled out a single word.

  “Bert! Hey, Guldbrandsen! Get your ass over here.” Rafe yelled above the chatter and clinks. My Brother’s Place swallowed up his bellow in other people’s laughter and the crack from the pool table, leaving enough decibels to bring their rival captain to the table.

  “Hey, Bobby, Lee. Good to see you guys.” Guldbrandsen plopped his unwelcome backside across from Rafe. Fuck, two of ’em to fend off.

  “Lee and Bobby here found themselves something interesting, Bert.” Rafe dragged the words out. “Something fascinating, more like.” He did the slow stare again.

  “Really? Tell us all about it.” Guldbrandsen was all ears, which wasn’t exactly a figure of speech. He was practically flapping them to catch the news they hadn’t intended to share.

  Lee didn’t appreciate the breeze. “You get all your exercise jumping to conclusions, Rafe?”

  “You met the old man.” Rafe spread the words out for emphasis.

  “Yes, we did. Seemed like a nice old gentleman.” Bobby pushed his plate aside. “Knowledgeable on his subject.”

  “That’s my point.” Rafe tried to wither them with a look. “You. Met. Horst. Bredow.”

  Lee was missing something here, he just knew it. “It’s his museum. It’s amazing. Had to be a huge amount of work getting the archives set up.”

  If Bert and Rafe’s eyes bugged out any farther, they’d touch over the center of the table. “You saw the archives?”

  Kind of hard to deny it now. “Yes.”

  “Oh my God. You touched heaven, and you think it’s Cincinnati.” Bert sagged in his seat with a palm pressed to his forehead. “Rafe, what are we going to do with these idiots?”

  “Why don’t you explain why your panties are in such a bunch?” Bobby thunked his foot against Lee’s ankle. Yup, pay attention, don’t drop any more clues. Why hadn’t Lee told Rafe they were headed to Disney World in the first place?

  “First—” Rafe held up a finger. “—the archives are for research. You can see the museum, but you can’t just wander next door and start reading stuff.” He glared like they were second-graders who hadn’t studied their ABCs. “Second, Horst Bredow’s ancient. He doesn’t see anyone, for any reason. Except if they have new information on U-boats. You two clowns think he’s a nice old gentleman. Now do you see?” His voice rose at the end of his tirade.

  Bobby gave Rafe the sideways once-over. “I see veins popping out of your forehead. That’s really unattractive. Hope that doesn’t happen during sex, or maybe it does and that explains why you’re single—”

  “Damn it! What did you bring him?” Rafe all but shouted.

  “We didn’t bring him anything. His grandson took us in to meet him.” Lee wouldn’t count the video as an offering just yet; they still had five enormous files to upload to the cloud account.

  “That explains it. Felix is a little light in his loafers. He wanted to impress you two—”

  “You can shut the fuck up now, asshat.” Lee included them both under one hat. “He recognized us as connoisseurs of marine hardware, and recognized you as the knuckle-dragging baboon that you are. No wonder you’re not permitted in polite company. Come on, Bobby.” He slid sideways out of the banquette.

  �
��I can put up with a weekend of Eddy Minard to find out, Lee Preston” sounded like a threat, possibly a promise.

  “Nah, the kid’s a nuisance I don’t need.” Bert smiled like a shark. “How about we just tag along?”

  Chapter 18

  HONORING THEIR commitments kept them on jobsites the weekend after they got back. Lee had to smile for the bank balance, though. Even after paying the fuel bill and being out of the country, having Bobby back on board had a highly positive effect. One of the best divers in the business put a premium on their services.

  It also kept them away from the sub longer than he’d have liked. The following weekend would have to do. Bobby didn’t mind quite so much. He spent several evenings with the welding torch and an assortment of hardware.

  Didn’t keep them away from each other. If some of Bobby’s stuff still lived in his rental house, quite a bit of it had migrated over to the Bottom Hunter. Groceries Lee never bought for himself filled the galley, but Bobby had developed a taste for hazelnut creamer in his coffee and a particular brand of high-protein pancake mix. The man himself still snoozed in bed while Lee went above to check the weather.

  A clear couple of days to come, and anything that popped up, they’d outrun. Lee went below to kiss Bobby awake with the good news. “You want to get your britches on before Chuck and the rest get here?”

  “I’d rather get your britches off.” Bobby made a lazy arm and pulled Lee down against the quilt. “Might be my last chance for a while, unless you don’t mind keeping the guys in the bunk room awake tonight.”

  “It’s five thirty. Gotta make it quick. We’ll have company in less than an hour.” Lee already had his hands on his fly. Damn but Bobby was making up for lost time, and he loved every minute of it.

  “If the boat is a-rockin’, don’t bother knocking.” Bobby proceeded to add some motion to the ocean with Lee’s hearty help.

  Might need to start saving the lemon slices out of his drinks, just to get the smile off his face when his crew showed up. Lee came to the deck before Tip and Harley’s second holler to come aboard.