The New Adventures of the Eagle

by Pro Se Press

  Hoping for a chance to relax at sea, Shannon asked the purser what reading materials were available to passengers, and jumped at the chance to look at The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien. It had been favorably referred to him by a few friends since its release in 1937, but his busy agenda as The Eagle did not leave Jeff much free time for simple pleasures like reading.

  Unfortunately, the purser discovered that the ship’s lone copy had already been loaned out to someone else.

  Wishing to at least take a peek at the book, Jeff tracked down who currently had it. An easy task given his skills, despite the relatively large search area that the ship encompassed.

  However, as he began to approach the other passenger, Shannon stopped himself because something seemed off about Joseph Miller. For someone who was allegedly relaxing in a deck chair reading, to The Eagle’s trained eye, the man was actually too aware of his surroundings. It was as if he was tense about something.

  Curious, Shannon grabbed a discarded newspaper off another table and sat where he could observe Miller discreetly. They were about the same height and build. In fact, they even possessed the same brown hair color, though Miller’s was cut shorter. While far from identical, it would be easy enough for anyone who never met them before to confuse the two upon first glance.

  Although he sat near his target’s outer range of vision, Jeff kept a wary eye upon Miller. Every once in a while the man would turn a page as if he had reached that point in the book, but Shannon could tell just from his body language that reading was the last thing on Miller’s mind. For whatever reason, he feared discovery about something, and The Eagle wanted to find out what.

  Soon the opportunity for further study presented itself when the subject of his impromptu investigation got up to use the nearby facilities. The moment Miller disappeared into the men’s room; Jeff went to the otherwise empty deck chair and performed a quick search. The Hobbit told Shannon all he needed to know.

  A new matter had arisen that required The Eagle’s attention.

  Replacing the book exactly how he found it, Jeff went back to his seat just before the suspect returned. Shannon then discreetly followed Miller the rest of the day, noting which cabin was his and what passed for a routine aboard ship. The Eagle could tell that while whoever Miller really was came from a military background, based upon the way he handled himself, there was no formal espionage training. It was that nervousness from being on his first assignment that made the crack secret agent suspicious of Miller to begin with.

  With only one more full day of travel before they reached Australia and knowing that whatever his mission was would not start until then, Shannon decided to confront Miller. That lone stretch of deck during his evening stroll seemed like the perfect place, but Jeff did not count on losing his footing during the encounter.

  Dazed, Shannon was unable to resist as Miller physically lifted him up and over the side railing.

  But as he started to fall, The Eagle’s survival instincts kicked in. Shannon reached out towards the ship, hoping to grab something. It was a combination of desperation, skill, and sheer luck that allowed him to grasp the bottom of the rail post where it attached to the deck just as Miller turned and walked away to avoid discovery.

  Jeff’s shoulder winched in pain as momentum and the weight of his body tried to pull him towards the ocean churning in the ship’s wake below. While a fall from even that height could be survivable, Shannon knew that if he went into the water, there was little chance of recovery before his body tired of swimming and he drowned.

  But The Eagle’s strong fingers and the desire to live would not let go of his handhold.

  Shannon reached for the bottom rail with his other hand and after some effort; The Eagle pulled himself over the railing and back onboard the Galee.

  With ‘Miller’ thinking him dead, Jeff bided his time and spent the rest of that night and most of the next day in his own cabin resting and planning his next move. Room service personnel were the only witnesses to his continued existence.

  That night when his prey was at dinner, The Eagle discretely went to Miller’s cabin. The brief pretense to a passing waiter of being locked out of ‘his’ cabin allowed Shannon access to the room and the chance to search it before Miller returned.

  Unfortunately, there was no further evidence of just what the Axis agent was supposed to do once he reached Australia. Now it was just a question of what happened next.

  CHAPTER THREE

  DISCOVERIES

  “If I may ask, what is it you do as far as the Australians are concerned?” inquired Mueller.

  “I’m Henry Waters, owner of the Restful Retreat Ranch. My cover identity was carefully prepared in great detail long before I left Germany. Upon my arrival here, I slowly established myself just as if I were any ordinary businessman,” bragged Meerozean. “In their eyes, I am a respected member of the community. An entrepreneur of rather modest success so as not to attract undue attention. If my holdings were to grow too big, some would become jealous of my success and begin wondering how I do it. If I stay too small, then others might grow curious as to how I have managed to stay in business for so long. Either way, I cannot afford such inquiries.”

  “I see,” said Mueller, following the Admiral’s logic.

  “I own several kilometers of land and dabble in lumber and cattle. My legitimate business ventures are both successful and self sustaining. Just last year I acquired some sawmilling and slaughter house equipment to process my own goods for market. But what the locals do not know is that while I always honor my contracts, of late it has only been by volume. The best beef and timber goes to our own men and purposes,” revealed Meerozean with a proud smile on his face.

  “And I assume that both have allowed for the completion of Project: Safe Harbor?”

  “Of course. Only the best for the Imperial Navy. But you are about to see for yourself. We are here,” announced Meerozean, as the car made a right turn off the main thoroughfare on to a side road.

  Except for one of them occasionally glancing over their shoulder to see if the taxi cab still followed, it was a rather long and uneventful drive. There were indications of several farms and ranches along the way, but not much else.

  After the boundary indicators where the vehicle turned, Mueller now saw a wide expanse of land on either side of them with several heads of cattle grazing. He was uncertain as to the exact breed, but all bore a distinctive ‘3-R’ brand upon their flank. The Alvis travelled down the well worn dirt path for almost another kilometer before a group of buildings appeared before them. Meerozean remained seated nonchalantly, for he was well accustomed to the view.

  William parked parallel to the main building, and then got out to open the door for his employer. Although not the door he originally entered; Meerozean, holding his holstered weapon, exited the car and gave the chauffer a brief nod of acknowledgement as he put his hat back on.

  Mueller slid across the seat and got out after his host, while donning his own hat. The breeze generated by having all the windows open as they travelled kept them somewhat cool, but it seemed even hotter now than when they left the dock.

  “Take a good look around Commander. When I first arrived here, this stretch of land was totally undeveloped, wild and untamed. See what I have created since,” instructed Meerozean in German.

  Mueller saw several buildings, including one that probably housed the spread’s main office and the Admiral’s private quarters, along with two bunkhouses for the employees. From their appearance, he assumed the rest of the structures were for storage and ranch work, but only recognized a large barn. All were arranged on either side of the dirt trail that went past the complex to parts unknown. He could see harvested lumber piled and waiting to be shipped elsewhere, while more cattle lazed about in the shade of the remaining trees in the immediate area.

  Meanwhile Meerozean, spotting the taxi cab coming down the access road, switched to English. “William, round up the others but stay hidden unti
l I call. We shall let the driver go for now until we can verify his part in all of this. But do take note of whatever information we shall need to track him down later,” he said, while folding his arms behind his back to hide the holstered weapon from view.

  “Yes sir,” whispered the driver, before going inside the main building.

  Mueller duplicated Meerozean’s pose as the two of them watched the taxi pull alongside the Alvis.

  ***

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” asked the taxi driver.

  “That is unnecessary,” said the passenger, as he started to get out.

  “All righty then mate. Minus what you already gave me, that will be—”

  “Here,” said the fare, while tossing the driver another hand full of cash.

  The driver looked at the money in the otherwise empty space next to him, shrugged his shoulders, and then drove off back the way he came.

  By unspoken, yet mutual agreement, everyone waited until the taxi cab was nothing but a fading cloud of dust in the distance. Then the new arrival asked, “Shall we converse in English or bevorzugen Sie Deutsches?”

  “Whatever you are comfortable with,” replied Meerozean in German, while pointing his gun to indicate the stranger should move closer to the one calling himself Jorgen Mueller.

  “What’s going on?” asked Muller, noticing that the English made Webley Revolver was pointed at him too.

  “I admit to preferring the Luger P-08, but could not risk bringing one with me from home,” commented Meerozean as William, having seen the gun being pulled, came back out of the building with four other men. Each looked almost as strong as him, and all held a rifle pointed at the two men, although not everyone carried the same model.

  “We have an interesting dilemma here,” said the Admiral, pausing to put on his holster while the others guarded their ‘guests’. “Our new arrival will probably claim he is Jorgen Mueller too, am I correct?”

  “Ja,” confirmed the other prisoner in German. “This man is a spy known as The Eagle. He ambushed me in my cabin aboard ship, stole my papers, and took my place to come here.”

  “For what purpose?” inquired the Admiral.

  The other Mueller told Meerozean everything he knew, basically confirming what the first Mueller had said before.

  “It is always prudent to bait a trap with some truth. That one of you is an enemy agent here to investigate what I am doing is obvious,” said Meerozean in English, for the benefit of his men. “But since I hold the superior position, I will satisfy your curiosity before killing the duplicitous one. This is Project: Safe Harbor,” he said, pointing at everything around them. “It is exactly what the name implies. A refuge for our vessels to be refueled, and resupplied, while their crews enjoy a short respite on land, hiding in plain sight on private property.

  “Behind those trees,” continued Meerozean, while pointing to a grove behind them, “less than half a kilometer away lies the Australian coastline and the open sea. The water there is deep enough for an unterseeboot to stay submerged and undetected for practically its entire stay. I have built crew lodgings under the disguise of creating accommodations for my spread’s men. I have been amassing fuel and other supplies for months. Alas the only things I could not do were gather armaments or build a proper docking facility, for those actions would draw too much attention. So for now, the unterseeboots will have to come and go under the cover of darkness, but they are more than welcomed here.”

  “Amazing,” said both Muellers, practically in unison. A safe port of call established in what would otherwise be enemy territory!

  “But wouldn’t a place like this need more men?” asked the second Mueller, taking a look at how few surrounded them.

  “I employ temporary help as needed. What you see here is only my trusted inner circle since I was expecting an examiner,” revealed Meerozean. “There have already been a couple of trial supply runs over the last few months. Many of our men might be dining on meat that I have supplied even as we stand here, hence the need for a formal inspection before commencing regular service. But now it’s time to dispose of the abfall Eagle,” he added, while pointing his weapon directly at the Mueller who travelled with him.

  Jeff Shannon quickly calculated the odds. There were six weapons and seven men against him. Knowing there would be other opportunities to defeat the enemy, he simply raised his hands as all the firearms concentrated upon him and asked, “What gave me away?”

  “I am naturally suspicious by nature. It is part of who I am and why I have managed to survive for so long in this inhospitable world,” boasted Meerozean. “There was something about you Herr Eagle, which I knew was wrong from the start, but could not completely identify until I saw the real Jorgen Mueller for myself. Take a closer look at his face, if you please.”

  Shannon studied the man next to him. Their similarity in appearance led to the spur of the moment plan to switch places and discover what the Axis were up to in Australia. But if there was some telltale clue, he honestly didn’t see it, so The Eagle stared back at Meerozean and said, “If you’ve seen one dirty rat, you’ve seen them all.”

  The real Mueller made a move to hit The Eagle for that insult, which Meerozean stopped as he said, “You’re wrong. See those fine creases under his eyes? Those are the mark of a true submariner. One who quite often has viewed the world through the monocular lens of a periscope.”

  Shannon looked at Mueller again and said, “And here I thought those were just stress lines from botching this mission so badly.”

  This time Meerozean didn’t stop Mueller from hitting The Eagle as hard as he could in the jaw.

  “Schweine!” swore Mueller, as The Eagle composed himself. “Though I still do not understand how he could have ever suspected me to begin with.”

  “That lapse in security is something we will deal with later,” swore Meerozean, while coldly staring at his real contact. “Although I must grudgingly admit that your German was quite good,” he said to Shannon.

  “Danke,” said The Eagle. “For what it’s worth, I barely detected any hint of an accent in your English.”

  “Thank you,” replied the Admiral. “I know in the car you must have recognized me from some photo in whatever file you read about the Fatherland’s previous war efforts, but would you care to answer Mueller’s question now?” he asked, while placing the revolver’s muzzle directly against his foe’s chest.

  The Eagle smiled as he recalled exactly how he stumbled across the Axis spy in route to his assignment. The next time you send someone on a secret mission, remind them not to use their orders as a book’s place holder! That coded message was easy enough for me to decipher before Mueller returned from the men’s room.

  Instead, all he said was: “I’m afraid you have a much bigger problem on your hands than little ol’ me. Turn around and look,” suggested The Eagle, as he stared off into the distance behind Meerozean.

  “Do you think I am a dummkopf to fall for such an old ruse?”

  “If you don’t believe me, smell the air. Or better yet, ask them,” replied Shannon, indicating the others with a nod of his head, who were now all looking in the same direction.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ESCAPE OR DIE!

  Seeing that his men were genuinely concerned about something behind him, Meerozean turned and saw what every rancher feared: big, black clouds of smoke rising from the horizon that heralded a cataclysm no one was ever fully prepared for.

  “MEIN GOTT!” he shouted. “I have heard of brushfires in this region before, but never one so huge!” The ebony line stretched out in both directions along the horizon as far as the eye could see.

  Meerozean paused for a moment, staring intently at the first hints of the raging inferno that could be seen through the gaps between the trees. The wildfire was coming to claim all that he had worked so hard to build. It was a force of nature that the Admiral could not stop, but there was still time to salvage what he could.

&nbs
p; “William,” he ordered in English, while finally turning back to face his men, “find me a length of rope and bring it back here immediately. Mueller, go with the others and help them start saving what can be loaded from storage onto the trucks in the garage. Fuel and oil are the first priorities. If there is time before we must flee, try for the rest.”

  “What about me?” asked The Eagle.

  “I have special plans for you,” replied Meerozean, as William returned with the requested item.

  Quickly, the Admiral marched his prisoner at gunpoint to the edge of the tree line bordering the buildings. There, William tied The Eagle’s hands together behind his back around one of the older timbers while Meerozean covered him with the rifle.

  When William was done, the Admiral handed the rifle back to his man and said, “This way Herr Eagle, nothing will be amiss when they find your body. The rope will have burned away and everyone will believe you died in the fire like any other unfortunate soul who may this day.”

  “Clever,” conceded The Eagle, while struggling against his bounds. “But you do realize that I had nothing to do with that,” he added, while nodding his head towards the fire behind him.

  “Nein. At least not directly. After all, you were with me since the moment you set foot in Australia. But you are definitely a bad omen of ill tidings that must be exorcised,” confessed Meerozean. “I can and will start anew. This is only a temporary setback at worst, since the ranch is insured. But you will understand if we don’t stay?” he asked, before rushing back with William to help the others in their race against time.

  The Eagle saw William rush to join the main group. They were trying to roll heavy barrels of fuel and oil towards the rear of a couple of stake and platform box trucks with makeshift canvas roofs. The vehicles had been moved closer to the storage facilities in hopes of expediting matters. But even if both were completely loaded in time, based upon the size of the buildings they were coming from, Shannon surmised that it was just a drop in the proverbial bucket. The remaining fuel and oil would create a spectacular explosion when the inferno reached them. One big enough to destroy the ranch complex and kill The Eagle where he stood for sure if the fire didn’t burn him to a crisp first!