The Last Wolf (The Talisman Series)

by Stephen Ward

  Chapter 26

  Keller had been working so hard recently that he'd forgotten all about Weib's disappearance and even the fact that there was a distinct lack of a yard foreman. In retrospect, he couldn't say he minded at all as they'd accomplished so much over the past few months. The hull was almost watertight and the machinery was inside. The electricians were in now. All that worried him was the main conning tower which was the only part being manufactured off site due to its size.

  The bustle in the yard was at an all time high as, apart from the current project, Keromen still continued to service the returning U-boats. Despite propaganda, Keller had noticed a significantly lower number returning for re-supply. Keromen had also suffered some unwanted attention recently in the shape of a bomb strike that hit the upper vaulted ceiling causing it to fall. The main lower roof, however, had remained strong and work could continue.

  Suddenly, the drafts room door opened causing a wind to kick up riffling Keller's papers. “Come in and please close the door,” Keller said without looking up. The door closed and the smell of smoke filled his nostrils. Standing by the door was Richter. “You really should have people announce themselves, it could have been anyone. There is a war on.”

  Keller's blood ran cold. He hadn't heard that voice in months. “Richter, I wasn't expecting.....”

  Cutting him off, Richter continued, “Perhaps you didn't expect to see me again? Did you really think I'd forgotten you?”

  “No, but I've not seen or heard from you for so long....” he answered nervously.

  Stabbing out his cigarette, Richter said, “You've done well, Keller. It looks like a boat. Weib would have been proud of you.”

  “Would have been?” Keller faltered.

  “Sorry! Slip of the tongue.” smiled the other man. “Yes! She almost looks like a boat.”

  “Yes, well! I have Leave coming next week and I need to ensure Huber can complete the sections in the plans.”

  “Leave?” asked Richter. “Have I agreed to any Leave?”

  Keller began again, “My Leave has been booked for months. Herr Weib knew about it. I've kept my end of the bargain and the work will be completed on time.”

  With a shake of his head, Richter snarled, “This is war. We do not take Leave here. So her completion date can probably be brought forward.”

  Keller felt a welling up of rage which he was unable to stop. “Now listen, Richter, I'm taking time off. It's my daughter's birthday next week and need I remind you that I'm a contractor not a soldier. My profession allows me to be my own man. So let me make this quite clear, I'm not under your control!” Excited and shocked about how forceful he'd just been, Keller couldn't stop himself, “You've tried to put the fear of God into me for months! Well it's not going to work.”

  Richter stepped closer, “Ahh! I understand now but this is most important. I can't permit any Leave except in the case of a dire emergency. I do hope you will accept this. I know Huber is a well-trusted and capable assistant but it is your project. However, I'm sure that under the circumstances we could arrange papers and transport for your family to come here for a few days. I hope this shows that I'm not as cold-hearted as it may appear. Please, leave it with me. I'll ensure that Frau Keller arrives here in time to celebrate the happy occasion.”

  Keller was astounded, “That would be perfect. I don't know what to say except thank you so much.”

  Smiling, Richter replied, “It'll be a pleasure, the least I can do. Now please, keep up the good work.” With that, he was gone leaving Keller alone once more. Perhaps he had got Richter wrong and that he just used fear as a motivation. He still didn't trust the man.

  Either way, he wasn't going to pass over this chance and Sabine would need forewarning about the change of plan. Petra would be really excited. So many plans and so little time. Reaching for his pen and a fresh piece of notepaper he began to write.

  My Dearest Sabine and my beautiful Petra,

  Due to my work I 'll be unable to return home on Leave as promised. However, it's been arranged for you to come here for a few days. There's so much to show you, a whole different world away from our quiet little village. I hope you are as excited as I am.

  See you soon my Loves

  Wolfgang xx”

  After writing the address carefully he sealed the envelope, knowing full well that this was a pointless exercise as no mail went unchecked and uncensored, especially from military bases. Then he went to put it with the other post.

  Chapter 27

  Weib had been left in a sparsely furnished room for what felt like days. He'd been brought food but the soldiers delivering it had been surly to say the least. By his side were some musty smelling books which, if he'd been inclined, would have helped to pass the long hours. However, all he really wanted to do was to escape this incarceration. The window had been blacked out with long nails securing it into a rotten frame, and the door was locked and bolted after each food visit.

  Despite this, however, he had continued to fumble around with the door handle more in hope than expectation. During his latest attempt he'd heard footsteps and voices that immediately stopped him in his tracks. One distinctively heavy set of jackboots he had definitely heard before, but the other set were lighter and the voice was unfamiliar, bossy but frantic.

  He strained to hear what was said but to no avail. The steps paused and a jangle of keys could be heard just outside. The rattling sound turned into a scratching in the keyhole and then the handle turned. Should he attempt to run? He might be old, but surely he could still try. Hah! run where? Weib hadn't any idea where he was or how many guards there were. Better to bide his time. The door swung open and in walked a soldier followed by an overweight man of similar age to himself. “No, no, no!” the man exclaimed, his hand movements gesturing agitatedly. “I said to make him comfortable, not to lock him away in here! Herr Weib, please excuse me. It appears no one can follow simple instructions. My name is Franz Helton.” He held out his hand. Weib could think of nothing else to do except to shake the pudgy hand.

  “Please. Come with me,” Helton waved the soldier away and led Weib out into a long corridor lined with evenly spanned doors. Not prison-style doors, much more stately than that. These were made of solid oak and tastefully carved. The mouldings that lined the ceiling, had once been ornate but had clearly seen better days.

  “Excuse me, Herr Helton, but why have I been brought here?” asked Weib.

  “All will be explained shortly,” replied the other man, as he led the descent of a grand staircase. Showing the way across what appeared to be the great hall of an aristocratic house, Helton led Weib through a myriad of corridors and passageways. The windows seemed darkened and there was not a soul to be seen. Helton now quickened his pace. All the doors were either closed or boarded. “What kind of a place was this?” Weib wondered. At the end of yet another corridor, the rooms became noticeably grandeur in size with white sheets draped over the furniture, and others looping over chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. Some walls had displays of stuffed animals, looking like ghostly outlines hovering high up in the air. At least now Weib had an idea of where he was, no doubt in one of the many abandoned Breton châteaux or manoirs. One door stood open as they passed, It caught Weib's eye mainly because the room inside was lit but also because of its distinctive floor. Slowing, he took a chance and stepped inside. Arched windows were set around the walls. Stone columns rose majestically from the marble floor. In the centre of this stunning whiteness he saw a large black design, a concentric circular pattern, with points lining up with a window opposite like a huge dark sun. This was clearly no normal room. Perhaps a meeting room?

  A voice behind him broke into his fascination. “What are you doing?” Helton stood a few feet behind him.

  “I'm sorry,” replied Weib. “This architecture is simply astonishing.”

  “Yes, it is, but wandering about here is forbidden to the uninitiated.”

  “Oh I apologise. Please, lead o
n.” Weib continued. “Uninitiated!” he thought. He'd have to remember that. They were almost immediately confronted with an iron gate which Helton slid open and, after ushering Weib through, closed after them. With the push of a lever, the elevator, as that was what it was, started to descend. Down, down, nothing but bedrock faced them beyond the gate until the contraption began to slow. Then dark, chiselled and worked stone replaced it leading to a well-lit opening before finally emerging into a steel shaft which overlooked an impressive underground complex. Hundreds of people were working at tables, benches and production lines. As the elevator stopped, Helton opened the gate and gestured to Weib to exit.

  “Welcome to your new place of work.” he said.

  “Excuse me?” said Weib. “I don't understand. Am I a prisoner here?”

  “You're a free man who was selected to come and help me with a particular project based on your past experiences. If it makes you feel any better I asked for you personally. However, the officer who has been tasked with overseeing this facility is totally without tact.”

  “Richter?” said Weib.

  “Yes, do you know him?” asked Helton.

  “All too well” replied Weib having to raise his voice slightly as they walked by the main working area. “What do they do here?” asked Weib.

  “Everything” replied his companion. “This installation specialises in weaponry prototyping. We're safe from Allied bombing here and have scientists and experts from every area.”

  “Do we use slave labour?” wondered Weib.

  Helton looked at him, “No, all the workers are free to come and go as they please about the complex.”

  “What about the uninitiated?” asked Weib.

  Helton smiled but said nothing. As they left the main corridor Weib couldn't help but notice several painted warnings on the door as he entered.

  “This is home,” laughed Helton. A spacious and clean room lined with blackboards, desks and tools spread out before him and Weib walked the perimeter often pausing to read scribbles of text, formulae and notes. Glass windows overlooked another room filled with many caged animals. He could also see a variety of birds all perched on a steel structure. A white-coated man, sat in a glass-sided booth with his hands in rubber-lined holes passing through the window. It was unclear what he was doing exactly but he held two beakers and with a quick motion he poured the contents of them together. Weib was surprised as nothing happened and his attention wandered for a moment, but when his eyes returned to the booth he was just in time to see the birds drop from their perch silently without as much as a raised wing. “What kind of place is this?” he again wondered.

  A nearby pile of papers were laid out on a desk close to the booth. Weib could see a file with a label V-Nulla-V.

  Chapter 28

  It was getting late by the time Alison Turnbull had made her way to the hotel close to the centre of Portsmouth. Both boys were almost asleep on a sofa close by the Reception desk as the receptionist searched for their booking details.

  “I'm sorry, Mrs. Turnbull,” came the eventual reply. “but I can't seem to find a reservation under that name for tonight.”

  Alison felt her sense of frustration rise. “I definitely booked by telephone two days ago.”

  “Yes, I understand that but it appears that by some oversight we didn't document it.”

  “OK Nevermind. Just please find us a room for tonight.”

  “I'm sorry, Mrs. Turnbull, but we're fully booked and currently only have singles available and no children are allowed in those rooms, I'm afraid.”

  Turning, her eyes burning with both anger and exhaustion, Alison grated “Now listen. I booked a room here two days ago. I have two young boys who are so tired they can barely stay awake so they'll hardly cause any trouble. Now can you please book me into one of those rooms?”

  The young receptionist smiled a sweet but smug smile, “I'm so sorry, Mrs. Turnbull. Rules are rules.”

  Alison moved away from the desk slightly to take a breath before she began another mouthful. A voice from behind her stopped her in her tracks. “Alison, why don't you leave this to me?” Turning, she saw two gentlemen standing behind her.

  “Donald?” she whispered, “Donald Winters, how long has it been?”

  “Too long, my dear! Now just bear with me a moment. Excuse me, miss. I couldn't help but hear about this lady's problem.”

  “Yes, sir, but as I told her, there is nothing I can do to help.”

  “Ah, yes, I see that. But you know, I have a room booked for the night. My friend and I would be more than willing to swap to two singles and, of course, pay any extra owed if it means these poor young children can get some rest.” The girl paused for a moment and nodded. Then after some minutes of debate and money exchanging hands everyone was happily moving to their rooms.

  Alison spoke softly to the boys who were noticeably lagging behind, too tired to move. Donald walked closely behind them shepherding them carefully. “Thank you, Donald. It means a lot. What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked.

  “Oh! The usual. I'm here to work.”

  “Ah! I see. How's Jean?”

  “She's fine - still putting up with me. She'll be glad to hear that I've met you. I sent a letter to Laurence at the Admiralty but I didn't get a reply.”

  Replying Alison smiled, “He's been very busy, Donald. The Admiralty have sent him on the new NATO Exercise. If it goes well, then it means better co-operation in Europe.”

  Donald grunted, “Well, that explains a lot. I was at the Admiralty just the other day. I doubt I'll be working with them any more. I guess I've outlived my usefulness!”

  “Don't say that, dear. We may be old but far from useless. Ah! This is our room,” she said stopping at Room 505 and checking the key tag. “Thank you again, Donald. Will you be here for breakfast tomorrow?” she asked as she opened the door and let the boys into the dark room.”

  “Probably but we're setting off for France on the 8:00 a.m. ferry. What about you three? You certainly seem to have your hands full with those two.”

  Alison shrugged, “I do, but only until Laurence docks after the Exercises.”

  Donald took her hand and kissed it gently, “It was so good to see you again. Please give Laurence my regards, won't you?” She nodded and squeezed his hand before saying her final goodbyes, then turned and closed the door.

  Both boys were already asleep on one bed, their clothes spread across the floor. After gathering shirts and shorts together and putting them over a chair back, she realised she was too tired to care about anything else. So after fixing herself a cup of tea from the small kettle she brushed her teeth and settled in bed.

  Chapter 29

  With Winters driving, the car sped along the M4 towards Portsmouth. The rented Ford Granada purred as the auto box changed from high to low gear as they changed lanes to overtake a slow moving lorry.

  Filmore had taken the journey time to read through Winters' notes which had been spread in piles throughout the car. Winters' mischievous nature came to the fore periodically as he opened the window for a cigarette, blowing all the papers everywhere. After all, it was a long trip and he needed to pass the time somehow. Filmore showed his annoyance by grunting pointedly but didn't say a word. He understood why Winters had kept working on this project so avidly. Every document, every page excited him still further. “I have one question,” said Filmore out of the blue. Winters glanced over quickly before returning his attention to the road ahead. “We have photographs showing where she was moored and a date, but these are not strong enough indicators as to where she is now. What are we going to do?”

  The truth was that Winters had no idea. He'd just wanted to get his friend involved in the expedition and it made more sense to him to begin in Lorient but didn't feel the necessity of telling Filmore that.

  Putting on his best poker face, Winters replied, “Well, I thought it best to look through the Occupation records at the Research Library. Perhaps we could turn somet
hing up there – photos, documents, anything would do as a lead.”

  “And if we don't find any clues....?” replied Filmore.

  “I haven't thought that far ahead,” grinned Winters.

  Both men chuckled and settled back into the car's velour interior. The junctions raced by and a couple of hours later, Filmore and Winters pulled into Portsmouth. It was late afternoon and the sun was dropping lower over the city. The pair soon found a quiet pub and settled down for an evening meal.

  The ferry had been fully booked for that day's crossing so Winters had had to reserve rooms for the night. Filmore knocked back his third gin as Winters nursed a pint of ale. As he spun the glass gently round the beermat, he stared at Filmore and laughed. “Go on, admit it. You've never stopped moaning but you're glad you came.”

  Leaning back in his chair and faking a groan, Filmore replied, “You know I am. You seem to think I was unable to make my own choices and that I let everyone keep me locked away in my office.”

  Winters looked at him with a blank stare. “Well, it took you long enough to agree to come, didn't it? You need to be more adventurous, my old friend.”

  “Listen. You have no idea why I've withdrawn from any expeditions.” With a huge sigh, Filmore began, “Do you remember the mission to find that destroyer which went missing a few years back?”

  Winters knew what had happened but he thought it best just to listen.

  “I don't know where I went amiss, but I had them looking in the wrong place for over three weeks. Millions of pounds and hundreds of sailors adrift and I had them looking in the wrong place because of my own over-confidence.”

  There was little Winters could say to make Filmore feel better as deep down he knew it had been a very bad situation. “Well,” Winters replied in a reassuring tone, “This is your opportunity to prove that you're not past it.”