“Oh… There’s one more thing sir,” said Villers. “That cruiser we detached reports Rodney is sinking. A good number of the crew will be rescued, as Britannic is standing by.”
“Any word on the Russians?”
“Nothing sir. It’s as if they just vanished.”
“They may have done exactly that,” said Tovey, though he did not elaborate. “Very well. We’ll maneuver north to cover Britannic now. Renown took a couple hard knocks in that fight and will have to be sent home, but Repulse is still fit for escort duty.”
“That will leave the Germans a clean route to France down here sir,” said Villers.
“It can’t be helped,” said Tovey. “We held our own here, but we can’t take on the entire German battlegroup alone. Even with the two battlecruisers we would be outgunned 33 to 21, and we both know they haven’t the armor to stand with the German battleships. Any report from Argos Fire?”
“They’re standing with Rodney,” said Villers.
“Good enough. My regards to Mister Connors and the lads at the guns. Well fought. I’m off to the radio room.”
Part IV
Interlopers
“The soul is no traveler; the wise man stays at home, and when his necessities, his duties, on any occasion call him from his house , or into foreign lands… he visits men like a sovereign and not like an interloper or a valet.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson
Chapter 10
Invincible turned north, and an hour later they came on the scene of the first engagement of that fateful day. Rodney was down deeply at the bow, ready to go under any moment. Britannic was standing by, watched closely by the Argos Fire, and the sea all around them was littered with small boats, and anything else that would float to provide the crew of Rodney a momentary safe haven. Around it all, the faithful destroyers that had been escorting Britannic circled like fitful hounds, their sonars active for some time until Captain MacRae radioed the squadron commander and asked him to cease their active search, telling them his own sonar was more than capable of providing any warning of an imminent threat from U-Boats.
Thankfully, nothing was found. U-556 had been harassed by the destroyers, who failed to locate the boat, and Wohlfarth had slinked away, already on his way back to the safety of a French harbor. He was looking forward to collecting his laurels, the man who put his torpedo into Rodney, and one who could rightfully claim he had sealed the fate of that ship in doing so. It was not the last time a German U-boat Kapitan would skew the lines of history. Between himself, Werner Czygan and Rosenbaum, the three men, and their torpedoes and mines, had had a profound effect on the course of events.
As to the Russian submarine Kazan, and the strange appearance of the Astute Class submarine it had reported, nothing more was seen or heard. Neither boat could be raised on radio, and it seemed that they had also sailed into the same grey ether that had enveloped the Russian battlecruiser. They were gone.
Aboard Argos Fire, Captain MacRae was still somewhat edgy. Radar clearly marked the positions of the German squadrons, and he could see that they had effected a rendezvous some 50 miles west of their position, and were now steaming south, away from the scene.
“I reckon we put enough hurt on them to dissuade them from any further action here,” he said to Mack Morgan as they conferred with Miss Fairchild in her stateroom. “That 6-incher we have up front must have been damn annoying. We probably didn’t hurt them all that badly, but a good stiff jab is a handy thing in a fist fight.”
“We’ve picked up their signals traffic,” said Morgan. “They’re breaking off, and heading for France. How long before the other British battleships get here?”
“Three hours,” said MacRae. “Their carriers have planes up harassing the Germans, but they still appear to be making a good 24 knots. Predictive plot shows that unless their speed can be cut to 15 knots or less, the British capital ships won’t catch up, and even if they did, it would be too close to German land based air power out of France.”
“Then this is over,” said Elena.
“At least the fighting is over for now,” said MacRae, “until the Germans decide to get up a good head of steam and look for convoy traffic again. Will that be our watch?”
Fairchild shook her head. “I don’t know what to think now. This whole affair went haywire the minute we dispersed our formation. If we had all stayed together…”
“No use chewing on that bone,” said MacRae.
“Well we’ve failed our mission,” said Elena, clearly troubled. “I had come to think that whole run out to Delphi was for me to get here and find this other key, and now it’s sitting out there, about to roll into the sea and be lost forever. The Russians have vanished into thin air, and the man who conceived this whole mission, Admiral Tovey, swears he knows nothing whatsoever about it. It’s madness.”
“No argument there,” said MacRae. “I don’t see what more we can do about it. In fact, I never quite understood this whole business with the keys in the first place. Very well, I gather they all open a door somewhere, and possibly to places like we found back in Delphi, but what is your charge in all of this, Elena? You’ve never really come clean with that.”
“Sorry, Gordon, but I’ve told you all I know. We were told the keys were important. I got these orders through the red phone, and that means they came from the Watch, the group Tovey founded, at least in the history we know. Yes, the keys open doors, we’ve seen that much, and they lead to some rather alarming places. As Watchstander G1, I assumed I was being ordered to secure this key the minute I realized just where and when it first went missing. As for what we might do with it—where it may lead—your guess will be as good as mine.”
“Well,” said Morgan. “Someone else seems a bit nosy about all this. They fished an American out of the drink. He’s been asking to see the Captain.”
“Whatever for?” asked Elena, still bothered.
“Something about the cargo being stored aboard Rodney, which did give me a bit of a tickle when I heard about it. He’s down on B deck if you’d care to have a listen. The chap seemed very insistent—kept looking at his watch like he was about to miss his plane, and insisting he see either MacRae or the British Admiral at once.”
“Typical,” said Elena. “Cheeky lot, these Americans. They’re not even in this war yet and still think they’re running the show. Well, see what he has to say, Mack. I’ve no time to sort his business out.”
There came a hard knock, enough to turn heads and raise eyebrows, and the sound of loud voices outside the stateroom. Elena nodded at Mack and he went to the door, one hand drifting slowly to the sidearm he always wore when he heard the shouting. Some kind of ruckus was underway and he was suddenly curious, opening the door cautiously, yet ready for anything.
“Stand where you are I say, or I’ll shoot!” Morgan recognized the voice of one of the Argonauts, a Sergeant from the security detail, and he could hear heavy footfalls. There, standing in the corridor, his hands in the air, stood a bedraggled man in a dress white naval blazer and trousers.
“Easy does it,” Morgan raised an arm at the three Argonauts now coming rapidly up the corridor.
“I need to see the Captain at once,” said the man. “It’s an emergency! There’s very little time left now!”
“Sorry sir,” said the Sergeant. “He slipped off B deck and was half way here before anyone took notice. I’ll see to this.” The Sergeant reached for the man, but Morgan waved him off.
“Hold on, hold on,” he said, stepping up to the man and folding his arms. “Now what’s this all about?”
“As I’ve said. I have urgent information for the Captain, and he must hear it at once. There’s no time for delay now.”
“Urgent business is it? Well who in bloody hell are you?”
“Wellings—Lieutenant Commander, United States Navy. I was aboard Rodney with Captain Hamilton.”
“That much I gather, but what’s your business here?”
“It concerns the cargo she was carrying—the Rodney—the Elgin Marbles. They have to be saved!”
“Too late for that,” said Morgan. “But what’s your business with any of this?”
“The marbles—”
“Mack,” came Elena’s voice. “Show the Lieutenant Commander in please.”
Morgan pursed his lips, not liking the idea of this character getting right past three of the Argonauts and into the executive suite like this. He stepped up to the American, frisked him quickly and then led him in, casting a disapproving glance over his shoulder at the Sergeant that spoke volumes.
“We’ll see to this now, Sergeant. But do keep a handle on anyone else down below. Understood?”
“Sir!” the man saluted stiffly.
“Dismissed.”
Back inside the stateroom, Morgan secured the door, keeping a wary eye on the interloper, and noting that MacRae had also interposed himself between the man and Elena.
“Just what is this all about, Mister Wellings?” said Elena, stepping around the Captain.
The man’s reply riveted her attention at once, three words. “The Selene Horse,” said Wellings.
She stood in silence for a moment, then the questions came. “What about it?” she probed.
“It has to be saved.”
“That isn’t bloody likely,” said Mack again from behind the man.
“I tried to get to it,” said Wellings. “That was the only reason I came aboard, but the whole compartment was flooded. Look—you have divers, perhaps a submersible. Yes?”
“Aye,” said MacRae, “but nothing that could dive deep enough to fetch that cargo when Rodney goes down, and that appears imminent.”
“Well, if we can get something into the water at once, perhaps there might be a way—”
“Look here, Mister Wellings,” said Elena sharply. “Suppose you tell me just why you have an interest in any of this. I hardly think you’re an art collector.”
“No,” said Wellings. “As terrible a loss as this may end up being, it may be far more significant than the loss of the marbles, or even the gold bullion. That’s the least of it.”
“Aye,” said MacRae. “And that’s the King’s business, though I still haven’t heard why you make it yours.”
“Because one of the marbles contained something—an artifact—and it was very valuable. If there is any way it can be saved…”
Elena gave the man a hard look, as though she were trying to see right through the thin disguise he was wearing.
“How would you know this?”
“That’s a very long story, and there’s no time to explain it all. Look, if there is anything you can do, we need to act now. Then I have a hundred questions, the least of which is what in god’s name you are doing here with this ship!”
“We’re standing to in the service of the King,” said MacRae. “Just like all the rest out here.”
“In a Type-45 destroyer? Oh, it’s a nice white paint you put over it, and her lines are smoothed out a bit, but this is a fighting ship, and that’s a Sampson radar dome up there on your mainmast. It’s unmistakable. And who in hell is using tactical nukes? Are you people crazy?”
Wellings gave them a no nonsense look, with just a flash of anger, and MacRae eyed Morgan now, wondering just who this man really was. That statement had clearly changed the entire tenor of the conversation, for only a man from their own day would have been able to finger the Argos Fire’s heritage as a Daring Class destroyer, or know anything about nuclear weapons.
“It wasn’t us,” said Elena. “Yes, this whole situation is insane, but we’ve more sense than that. But let’s stay focused here… This artifact,” a note of suspicion was creeping into her tone now. “Just what might it be?”
“A key,” said the American. “A very unusual key, embedded in the base of the Selene Horse.”
Only another member of the Watch would know that, thought Elena, and here this man was said to be asking about Admiral Tovey… What was going on? Who was this man?
“How is it you recognize this ship as a Type-45. Not one man alive on this earth outside this ship could have known that. And how is it you know about this artifact, this key?”
“The key?” Wellings said bluntly. “Because I was the first man to discover it, and it will probably not be seen by any man alive on this earth again if we don’t take speedy action to salvage it.”
“You can forget that,” said Morgan. “Rodney is finished. There’s no way we could risk getting divers aboard now. She’ll be heading for Davy Jones locker inside ten minutes.”
The American officer shrugged, realizing this was likely true, and yet still animated with a frustrated energy. “Damn,” he said, summing up what they all seemed to feel at the moment.
“You were the man to first discover it?” Fairchild gave him an incredulous look. “It’s been sitting in the British Museum ever since the 7th Earl of Elgin persuaded the government to purchase the marbles in 1816.”
“Yes, yes,” said Wellings, “I know all the history. That 35,000 pounds bought the British government much more than they ever realized.”
“Oh?” Elena inclined her head, studying the man closely, noting how he glanced nervously at his watch. “This key you speak of,” she said. “Might it look anything like this?”
The man’s eyes widened as she drew out the key where it had been hanging on a thin gold chain around her neck. “Then you’ve already found it?” he said quickly, a look of great relief on his face. “How did you manage to get to it with all that ruckus going on out there?”
“I think we’d better sit down, Mister Wellings. You have a hundred questions in mind, and so do I. Suppose we have a little drink and get to the bottom of this. Yet before we discuss this key, and where it came from, I’d like to know who you really are. Clearly you’re not who you seem to be, and if you haven’t noticed, there’s a war on. People take a very dim view of men who put on uniforms without earning the right to do so, and it is clear to me, and most likely to these gentlemen here as well, that you are not a Lieutenant Commander in the American Navy.”
“Quite right,” said Wellings, deciding to drop the guise and identity he had assumed and do a little digging here himself. “Forgive the uniform, but it was necessary, as was the subterfuge. To answer your question, Madame, my name is Dorland—Professor Paul Dorland, of the Lawrence Berkeley Labs in the United States. And since you seem to be well out of place in this milieu, you may not be all that surprised to hear what I say next. I have come here from the year 2021, and to retrieve that very key,” he pointed. “How you managed to come by it is a mystery to me, as was my own discovery of that artifact, embedded in the base of the Selene Horse, right there aboard the battleship Rodney, on May 21st, 1941.”
Morgan gave the man a frown now. “21st of May you say? Well the last time I checked, and that was this morning, it was the 8th of May, Mister Wellings. Or is it Professor now?”
“Correct,” said Dorland. “On this meridian. When I found the key things were… different. You see, this was not the first time I’ve used this uniform to get aboard that ship out there. I had other business, which there’s no time to discuss, and I found that key by pure happenstance.”
“You found it?” said Elena. “Aboard Rodney?”
“Where else?” said Dorland. “Look, we both know the marbles were being shipped to Boston aboard Rodney. Well, you may be gratified to know that they actually got there once. This time things appear to have turned out quite different, but at least you’ve recovered it. How did you manage it?”
“We didn’t manage a thing,” said Elena. “In fact this whole operation has been a train wreck as far as I’m concerned. This isn’t the key you may be looking for, Professor Dorland, or whoever you are. Now… I want to know how you got here, what you intended to do, and how you even know of this matter in the first place. And I want it straight and narrow—right now.”
She folded her arms, waiting.
/> Chapter 11
“How did I get here? That is another long story,” said Dorland, “and I suppose it will be as difficult and convoluted as the one you will tell me to explain how a 21st century warship is found here sailing about in the middle of the Second World War! Yet here we are. Let’s leave it at that for the moment, as my time is running thin. The real concern now is that key. Believe it or not, I was aboard Rodney once before, in another telling of these events, and I believed they had reached a successful conclusion, that is until the final alert came in, and that key went missing.”
“Missing?” Elena had a firm grasp on her key now, as though she were suddenly afraid it might go the way of Russian battlecruisers and submarines.
“After I discovered it aboard Rodney,” said Dorland, “I took it with me, back to my own time—to our time, if I may venture a guess. You are also from that future?”
“There was a mishap,” said Elena. “Yes, and it was in 2021, right at the outbreak of the war. We were returning from the Black Sea, a business venture involving oil. Yet I have other business as well, and I received certain instructions. Yes, you are correct. It will be a long story, but suffice it to say that it eventually led me, and my ship, here. This key had a very great deal to do with that, and so you can therefore understand my interest in the one aboard Rodney. You say you took it with you. Explain.”
“The one aboard Rodney?” Dorland stumbled a bit. “Are you intimating that is not the same key? There are more than one?”
“Yes. The key aboard Rodney vanished, just as you say it did, on the 21st of May, 1941. And yes, that was in another history of these events. We’ve both seen that the story presently underway is just a little deviant.”
Doppelganger Page 9
