Knight's Cross (The Shipwreck Adventures Book 3)

by Christine Kling

  Virgil backhanded the dog and sent her flying across the deck with a yelp. He grabbed his knife and goggles off the floor and pushed his way through the doorway the man had passed through. He closed the door between himself and the dog, then leaned over the railing. A good twenty-foot drop, but it would be faster than the stairs. He stuffed the goggles in his pack, folded the knife and pocketed it, then slung the pack onto his back. He threw a leg over the steel bulwark. Grabbing the rail, he hung by his hands, then let himself drop.

  He expected to reach the stairs at the back of the boat before the man did, but no one was there. He heard the clattering of the dog’s nails on the steel deck, and he knew the animal would be there at any moment.

  Time to cut his losses. Virgil turned and began fast-walking in the direction of his car. He reached into his pocket and took out the phone. With a touch, the screen lit up. The gate was directly in front of him. The man had seen him, and the C-4 could be traced. No choice.

  He tapped the green key and heard the whomp of the blast on the other side of the yard.

  Aboard the HMS Upholder

  Off the Coast of Tunisia

  April 9, 1942

  Tug and Charlie passed their boats up through the forward hatch, then climbed out onto the submarine’s deck. The night was inky black, but Tug could smell the odors of land on the fifteen knots of offshore breeze. The sub rose and fell on the long swells. Both commandos were dressed in black clothing, including black watch caps and thickly rubbered shoes. They’d smeared black grease on their faces. The two Arab agents wore black clothes over their more traditional robes. Tug was already at work on the hand pump, inflating the RAF-type black rubber boat, working slowly so as not to make too much noise.

  No one spoke. When necessary, Tug used hand signals to direct the men. The night sky was awash with stars, but no moon would rise during their mission. On shore, lights were visible to the south, but the stretch of coastline directly inshore appeared dark and deserted. They could hear the breath-like rise and fall of the surf on the beach.

  Captain Simpson hadn’t needed the extra man for the mission of landing the Arabs. But once Tug learned about the second part of the mission, he understood why he was needed. One man would take too long to pack in all the explosives. He couldn’t carry it all in one trip.

  When the frameworks were secured inside the two folding boats, Charlie passed up the waterproof bags that carried the four charges of plastic high explosive they would need for their mission. Each bag weighed twenty-eight pounds, and that included the cortex and fuses required to connect and set off their charge. Charlie distributed the packages evenly in the fronts and backs of their canoes. Into the Arabs’ inflatable boat went their radios—also in waterproof bags, but their bags had arm straps. So as not to lose the gear, they were to wear them on their backs—though if the boat capsized in deep water, the extra weight would carry them under. Ropes tied both canoes to the rubber boat.

  Tug checked over the men’s work. He was considered a perfectionist by those he worked with, and he was proud of that reputation. With explosives, there were no second chances.

  When Tug was satisfied that everything was in order, all four men climbed into the boats, where they rested atop the decks. Tug and Charlie also carried tommy guns on their backs and commando knives strapped to their legs. Both men grasped their paddles, and Tug flashed the “okay” sign. The submariners cleared the decks, and the men heard a soft whoosh of air from the vents. Water coursed across the decks, and in seconds, the little boats were afloat. The Upholder sank beneath them, and the two commandos started paddling.

  The shore always looked and sounded closer than it was. Because their boats were so heavily laden and they were towing the rubber boat, the paddle toward shore seemed to take forever. They were vulnerable at sea. In the clear, dry air the starlight was nearly as bright as a new moon, and they knew their silhouettes were targets against the night sky.

  Though Tug and Charlie were small men, they were both immensely strong, and they pulled their paddles through the sea, dragging their cargo through the darkness. As they rose and fell in the large swells, Tug grew worried. The big swells might indicate a change in the weather, and he and Charlie had a long night ahead of them.

  Finally, Tug saw the iridescent white of the breakers ahead. He signaled to the Arabs. Ben untied the ropes from the raft and flung them to the two Brits, who coiled them up. Tug and Charlie attempted to push the rubber boat with their canoes up into the surf line without going too far inshore themselves. At last, a swell lifted the rubber boat, and Tug and Charlie paddled backward out of the waves.

  The first swell passed under the rubber boat without advancing it much. The next swell was larger, and it picked them up and carried them a distance high on top. Then the boat disappeared like a surfer sliding down the face of the big swell. The next swell rose up and prevented Tug from seeing what happened.

  “Can you see them?” Charlie whispered.

  Tug shook his head. Another very large swell obscured their view. A mist from the breaking surf hung in the air between them and the beach.

  “Bloody waves.” Then Tug got a glimpse of an overturned boat sliding toward shore in front of a foamy wave.

  He thought about how it would feel with those heavy radios on their backs pulling them under.

  After the next wave broke, there was a lull between waves. Tug saw the dark outline of what looked like two men, one half carrying the other out of the water.

  At least one of them was alive. Surely the other couldn’t have drowned that quickly.

  Tug checked his luminous compass, then signaled to Charlie with his index finger. They had business to the north.

  They paddled about a mile to where they believed the river entered the sea, and as they got close, they were able to spot the V shape in the coast outline that marked the river mouth. They planned to follow the ravine overland to the bridge. That way there was less chance of them encountering anyone. Even with their heavy loads, the two folding canoes made it through the big surf with little problem.

  They hit the beach running and dragged their canoes and the explosives up to some brush cover to hide them from anyone who might happen by. Such chances were slim, but Tug wanted to be sure his ride home would still be there when he got back.

  The river was barely a trickle of water across the sand, but judging from the sides of the ravine that started a few hundred feet back from the beach, there were flood seasons when the river carried a much greater volume of water.

  They loaded the explosives into two rucksacks. With their weapons and the explosive charges, each man was carrying close to seventy pounds as they started up the near-dry riverbed.

  It was slow going over the rocky terrain, but within twenty minutes, they could see the dark outline of the railroad bridge ahead. The Arab might not have been correct in his estimate of two kilometers. The bridge looked to be about a hundred yards across. As they got closer, Tug could see two concrete pillars and the steel girders that carried the track across the gap. It would have been a hell of a fall from up there. No wonder Raheeb didn’t want to walk across it.

  The two commandos started to climb up the steep embankment to get to the level of the track. Tug had chosen the south side because above the tracks, the embankment rose to a rocky pinnacle. He hoped to find more secure footholds, not just crumbling sandstone. It meant the explosion would be closer to town, though, and once they set it off, they would have little time to get back to their canoes.

  With the heavy weight on their backs, the going was slow. Both men were breathing hard. They moved from handhold to foothold, sometimes grabbing the scraggly plants that had rooted in sandy soil, other times knocking loose a small avalanche of rocks and dirt.

  “Amazing to think who else might have traveled here.” Charlie spoke softly. “People have been living on this coast and sailing this sea for thousands of years. Wish there was better light to see this place.”

 
; “Better light and someone might see us.”

  When they arrived at the tracks, Tug realized that they wouldn’t be able to affix the charges out close to the concrete pilings as he had hoped. Their fuse wasn’t long enough. They would work on the steel girders about twenty feet out. Maybe they would blow half the embankment away as well. It should put this railway line out of business for a good while.

  Tug hung first over one side of the tracks, then the other, as Charlie handed him the plastic explosives and the cortex for connecting them. These were then connected to the fuse.

  Hanging upside down as he was, Tug was starting to feel dizzy with the blood rushing to his head. He blinked to clear his eyes. It was important to do this right. If she didn’t blow, he wouldn’t relish having to climb back up here again.

  “Did you hear that?” Charlie said.

  “Yeah,” Tug said. “I’ve been feeling the vibrations through my legs on the tracks. How far off?”

  Charlie walked back off the bridge to look around the side of the hill. “Bloody hell.”

  “I guess I’d better hurry?”

  “You can say that again.”

  Tug finished off the fuse, pulled himself back up onto the tracks, and pushed himself to his feet. He was so dizzy he nearly stumbled on the narrow-gauge track. Even only twenty feet out onto the bridge, he would be looking at a nasty fall. He could hear the sound of the train now.

  “Come on!” Charlie yelled. He was walking backward down the track, turning the spool and laying out the slow-burning fuse.

  Tug followed him off the railroad bridge, and they started down the ravine, spooling out the fuse as fast as they could. They ran out of fuse halfway down the hill.

  “You ready to run?”

  Charlie nodded.

  Tug lit the fuse.

  Both men turned and began scrambling down the ravine. They were doing more falling and sliding than running. Above them, the engine rattled out onto the bridge, drawing the train of cars behind it.

  It was a short train—only six cars.

  Tug and Charlie had just reached the bottom of the ravine and started to run down the riverbed when they heard the blast. Both men turned to look. Tug saw that the last car of the train was only a few dozen feet onto the bridge, but then he and Charlie both had to duck and cover their heads as the debris rained down on them.

  Hearing the creaking, screeching noise as the unsupported steel girders bent under the weight of the train, Tug uncovered his head and looked back at the bridge. The train slowed and came to a stop as the track that was now disconnected at the south end bent downward. Then the train began to move backward, very slowly, like a film in slow motion. The train’s engineer must have poured on the steam, as smoked spewed from the engine’s stack. There was no room on the bridge for anyone to climb out of the train.

  Tug looked around for Charlie. Where the hell had he gone? Had he already started for the boat?

  Then he saw a figure running upriver—away from him, and back toward the bridge.

  “Parker!” he yelled. “Look out. That train’s coming down!”

  Charlie stopped, leaned down, and picked up something that looked like the tin lid to a garbage can. Then he straightened up and started to run back toward Tug.

  The train’s last car slid off the end, and the weight of it made the rest happen so fast the engine was whipped off the track like a toy.

  The noise was deafening. The dust cloud that rose from the riverbed engulfed Charlie.

  Tug turned and ran. Hard. He didn’t slow until he reached the boats. He was dragging his own canoe toward the surf when he heard a voice from the dark.

  “Hey, mate, wait till you see what I found!”

  Adakoy Shipyard

  Adakoy, Turkey

  April 14, 2014

  The noise of the explosion pulled Cole out of a deep sleep.

  “What the hell was that?” he asked, sitting up and throwing off the light sheet.

  Riley slept on the half of the bunk next to the hull. She nudged him in the side. “Go,” she said.

  Cole rolled out of the bunk, sprinted through the main salon, and climbed the ladder. He stood on the second rung, his head poking out the hatch. He reached for the binoculars on the cockpit table.

  Behind him Riley said, “Could you move aside?”

  “Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t move. He was too busy trying to focus the glasses through the front plastic window of the dodger. The sky showed a band of pale blue to the east, but the boatyard was still mostly in shadow.

  “Smoke,” he said. He could see it swirling in the glow cast by the tall yellow lights.

  “I can smell it,” she said.

  He moved aside, but he saw she was already pulling on a pair of shorts. He held out the binoculars. “Whatever it was, it was very close to our boat in there.”

  “And that means Theo.”

  “Oh shit.” He looked toward the yard again. He felt like someone had just punched him in the gut and knocked the wind out of him. “God no. Not again.”

  “Get down here and get some clothes on.” She grabbed her shoulder bag and edged her way around him. “I’ll lower the dinghy and get the outboard started.”

  “Okay, okay.” He felt around the chart table for the shorts he had taken off before going to bed.

  “Hurry up,” she said. “That smells to me like a bomb.”

  Cole cut the outboard at the very last minute. The inflatable boat came down off a plane, and he turned it aside so the tube bumped along the floating dinghy dock.

  “Go, go!” Riley said. “I’ll tie it up.”

  Cole jumped onto the dock and ran up the ramp. He heard Riley’s footfalls right behind him. Hundreds of boats were hauled out for the winter, and he dodged between the wooden cradles and metal stands that supported what were mostly fiberglass sailboats. The wind had cleared some of the smoke, but he was still breathing it in. His throat and eyes burned.

  When he came around the last boat before the open work area, he saw a cluster of people, lit up by one of the security spotlights on the wood shop. They were standing around something on the ground. In the middle of the big open area was a crater in the dirt about twelve feet across.

  Cole pushed through the group, and he saw Theo sitting on the ground, one arm draped around his dog’s neck. He was wearing only his boxers, and his bare chest was mottled with dust and dirt. Bits of debris were stuck in his hair. Blood trickled down the side of his face.

  “Theo!”

  His first mate turned his head at the sound of Cole’s voice. It was still startling to see those undamaged eyes looking straight at him. Theo’s blindness had been caused by brain damage, not eye damage, and people often couldn’t tell that he wasn’t sighted.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, mon. Thanks to Leia, here.” He scratched the dog’s ears and buried his hand in the ruff of fur around her neck.

  The people in the crowd were mostly other boat owners who lived aboard their boats while doing the work in the yard. Several people who worked for the shipyard were there, too.

  Riley pushed through the crowd and squatted next to Theo.

  The night security guard said, “I already called the manager. They’re sending a doctor over to take a look at him.”

  “I told you I’m okay.”

  Cole didn’t think he looked okay.

  Riley put her arms around his neck and squeezed. “Shut up and let the doctor check you over when he gets here.”

  Theo made a face like he was being strangled, but Cole could tell from the smile that he was enjoying the hug.

  “What happened?” Riley asked when she finally let him go.

  “Can you stand?” Cole asked in a quiet voice.

  Theo nodded once. They had worked together for so long, they often understood each other better without saying directly what they meant. Cole knew Theo would understand that it wouldn’t be a good idea to discuss it in front of that crowd. Cole lo
oked around at the faces, trying to fix them in his memory. The guy who did this could well be among them.

  Riley took one of Theo’s arms, and together they helped him to his feet. Theo’s dog Leia refused to let him get more than a few inches away from her.

  Cole spoke to the crowd. “Look, everybody, we’re going to take him up into the boat so he can lie down.”

  A Brit who had bought a big wooden Turkish gullet boat and was trying to turn her into a luxury charter yacht stepped in front of them. “What the hell happened, Theo?”

  “I didn’t see a thing,” Theo said.

  Cole looked at the Brit and shrugged as if to say, You can’t argue with that.

  “If you blokes are using explosives for some job in this yard, I’ll personally make sure you’re thrown out on your arses. That’s dangerous shit.”

  “We’re building a boat, not blowing one up, Colin. When we figure out what happened, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Right,” he said. He turned around and stomped off toward the dinghy dock.

  The other onlookers drifted off into the yard. Several of them wandered over and peered into the crater, chatting in a variety of languages.

  Riley said, “Come on. Let’s get him inside.”

  “Take me to the site of the blast,” Theo said. “I want to feel it.”

  The three of them walked to the edge of the hole. Theo squatted and felt around on the dirt. “How deep is it?” he asked.

  “Two or three feet,” Cole said.

  They helped Theo back up to his feet, then walked with him over to Shadow Chaser II. The sky was brightening and suddenly the lights in the yard clicked off.

  “Must be nearly daylight,” Theo said. “What a way to start my day.” He climbed the steps gingerly, favoring his right side. Riley went ahead to the galley and got a wet towel. Once Theo was seated on a plastic-covered couch in the salon, she cleaned the blood off his head and pulled sticks and bits of plastic out of his hair.