Endgame (The Red Gambit Series Book 7)

by Colin Gee

  De Walle produced a pen and made a precise copy of the note before returning it to Knocke and accepting his coffee.

  “What’s your cousin’s name? Maybe I can find out about him too?”

  “Steyn, David Steyn. He was… or even still maybe is… a shopkeeper in Königsberg. Actually, the most intelligent shopkeeper you ever might meet. Ex-Kriegsmarine engineer submariner from 1918. I always felt that there was something else in his life… something government… official and decidedly secret…but I never asked… didn’t want to put him in a position.”

  “Quite understand, Ernst… Kriegsmarine engineer… hmm… worth checking that angle too…”

  De Walle made a few more notes and tucked the paper in his tunic pocket.

  “I’ll see what I can find out, Ernst. Now… how’s the nerves?”

  Knocke scoffed in such a way as to confirm his increasing unease with the approaching wedding day announcement.

  “None at all and neither should there be!”

  “And neither should there be, as you say. Many a man would jump at the chance to wed such an intelligent and loyal beauty.”

  “The pistol under the pillow takes a bit of getting used to though.”

  “All joking to one side, Ernst, she is one of my best.”

  That De Walle said ‘is’ rather than ‘was’ still hurt, as Knocke had tried so hard to get Anne-Marie to retire and put together a family home.

  De Walle understood.

  “She's a free spirit, Ernst… one that has attached herself to you… but you can never cage her… you do know that?”

  Knocke shrugged and moved to get the coffee pot.

  “Yes, I know. One of her many charms, Georges.”

  They clinked mugs in a silent toast to Anne-Marie de Valois, soon to be Knocke.

  Even peace may be purchased at too high a price.

  Benjamin Franklin

  Chapter 173 - THE PEACETIME

  August 1946

  The World descended into peace and there was a period of wondrous nothingness, almost as if the armies and civilians collectively exhaled in relief and decided to take a moment’s rest before starting on the path that would return the planet to something approaching normality… or whatever normal would be after two huge conflicts over eight bloody and horrible years.

  The mechanics of the Soviet withdrawal were decided upon, and the two combatant sides liaised at national and local level, in an effort to ensure that there was no incident that could bring the two sides back to aggression and death.

  This often meant that combat officers who had pitted their wits against each other found themselves sharing cigarettes and coffee whilst poring over maps, working together to ensure that no more of their young men would die.

  Occasionally there were problems, as happened in the area of the Legion Corps D’Assaut, where not-so-old memories made liaisons more difficult.

  There were also the other sort of problems, those decidedly inevitable errors of judgement that touched lives on both sides.

  On Saturday 24th August, a Soviet-manned Curtiss O-52 Owl made the mistake of straying over the Allied lines and was chopped from the sky by DRL FW-190s.

  Two days later, an Estonian fishing vessel broke the exclusion zone off the north coast of Poland, bringing interception by the patrolling Żuraw, a Polish minesweeper. The crew were imprisoned and subsequently revealed to be Soviet naval personnel.

  The most serious incident of the month occurred over the approaches to Berlin, when two Arado-234 jet reconnaissance aircraft were bounced and knocked from the sky by Soviet-manned ME-262s from 2nd Guards Special Red Banner Order of Suvorov Fighter Aviation Regiment, one of which was piloted by Djorov’s 2IC, Oligrevin.

  Aggressive aerial patrolling followed, and a LaGG-5 was shot down for threatening a repeat of the German’s recon operation, which was undertaking the agreed monitoring of Soviet withdrawals around Bad Lauterberg.

  Night drew the posturing and dying to a close and, although both sides flew night fighters in large numbers over the area, no further encounters of note occurred and by morning the situation had returned to an uneasy calm.

  The most significant events of August 1946 went completely unnoticed by the Allies, or at least, one was noticed but not comprehended and one was noticed only by those who had been bribed not to notice.

  2003 hrs, Tuesday, 27th August 1946, Thessaloniki, Greece.

  The two vessels from another ocean, the Tsukushi Maru and Nachi Maru, dropped anchor as directed by the pilot, a devoted clandestine member of the Greek Communist Party, the KKE, who was privy to the needs of the operation, as far as he needed to be of course.

  Lights burned brightly as their small cargoes of rubber and other exotic far-eastern goods started the final stage of their journey into the warehouses ashore.

  The British naval officer supervising the arrival and unloading had already been briefed on the nature of the two vessels, and quickly checked to ensure that all the paperwork was in order before returning to the pilot’s craft for the short trip back to his billet and the waiting local beauty who had finally succumbed to his advances and then some, her eager sexual compliance done at the suggestion of her KKE uncle, in order to make him less inclined to nose too deeply.

  Part of the logistical planning of Raduga required avoiding putting all the eggs in one basket so, when the unloading lights disappeared with the last stevedores and night fully embraced the anchorage, four small boats put out to shore, carrying silent figures with the papers of Chinese government officials with official business ahead in Bulgaria.

  Which was true, except for a few minor details… in that not one was Chinese, neither was any of them government officials in the truest sense of the word, and that their only business with Bulgaria was to get through it as quickly as was humanly possible.

  The ex-military members of the group had taken steps to appear less military, mainly by growing hair or going unshaven.

  In the main, they were educated and highly qualified men from Unit 8604, formerly the Epidemic Prevention and Water Purification Department of the Japanese Southern China Area Army, the cover title for the unit’s real and deadly purpose; that of biological warfare research.

  The scientists that accompanied them more often than not had no military bearing whatsoever and solely shared the group’s fanatical concept of service to the Emperor, which fanaticism drove the eighty-seven men to continue with their part in Project Raduga.

  At 0300 precisely, other members of the KKE created the noisy and spectacular diversion in Kalachori that drew Greek and British eyes away from the anchorage and allowed two small vessels to pick up their human and paper cargo, and land them unobserved.

  By the time that the fire had been bought under control and the ‘revellers’ rounded up for questioning, the ‘Chinese’ were safely secreted within an NKVD safe house on Agias Sofias, ready to move on to their destination, when the circumstances allowed.

  1951 hrs, Saturday, 31st August 1946, Çanakkale Naval Fortified Command Building, Çanakkale, Turkey.

  Turkish Naval ranks

  Koramiral - Vice-Admiral

  Deniz Albayı - Captain

  Deniz Yarbayı - Commander

  Deniz Yüzbaşısı - Lieutenant

  Deniz Üsteğmeni - Lieutenant j.g.

  Vice-Admiral Cevdet Tezeren replaced the receiver with barely concealed satisfaction, the report from his trusted aide confirming that everything was in place for the ‘arrangement’ to work.

  He had placed himself in the CNFC building for one reason only, and that was the man who commanded the team that constantly watched the comings and goings of traffic on and under the important strip of water known locally as the Çanakkale Boğazi, or as it was more widely known, the Dardanelles.

  Other fortified command officers had understood the high-powered documentation bearing his signature, but he expected issues with the CNFC duty officer, Captain Aydan Mimaroğlu,who had a reputation as an indepen
dent thinker, which was decidedly not what Tezeren needed that night.

  The admiral composed himself and started the short walk from the office of the CNFC commander, which officer had found himself unexpectedly called to Ankara for a conference on the Çanakkale Boğazi’s security measures.

  He nodded to the two expressionless men who were his personal aides, or as most people understood, his enforcers.

  The three set off in step, heading towards the command facility.

  The smartly turned out guards challenged the party and were quickly satisfied with Tezeren’s credentials, allowing him entry.

  He waved Mimaroğlu back into his seat with a friendly dismissive gesture, but employed the man’s formal rank when he spoke.

  “Well, Deniz Albayi Mimaroğlu, anything from our special guests yet?”

  “No, Koramiral. Not a twitch as yet… and as you say, other stations will not be reporting the transit.”

  Tezeren detected the questioning tone… almost defiant…

  He immediately congratulated himself for his decision to locate at Ҫannakale.

  A hand was raised at one post towards the front of the large room, attracting one of Mimaroğlu’s staff to move quickly to the station and take both verbal and written reports.

  The junior grade lieutenant moved forward to the officer overseeing the plotting board that was scrupulously maintained to show the location of each and every vessel in the waters under the watchful eyes of CNFC, as well as those other commands along the whole length of the Dardanelles.

  The report changed hands as the young officer passed the information on verbally to both the commander and the plotting officer.

  Commander Nadir took the written message in hand and watched as the plotter recorded a new contact entering the western approaches of the seaway.

  When the plotter had finished, he turned to ensure Mimaroğlu had noted the arrival, and received a nod by way of confirmation.

  He handed the written report up to the waiting hand.

  The Admiral loaded his ҫibuk with his special concoction of Yenice and Burley tobaccos and sucked lightly on the stem to draw the flame into the pipe’s cup.

  Satisfied, he puffed away, doing his absolute best to appear nonchalant and unworried about what started to develop on the CNFC situation map.

  He and Mimaroğlu watched silently as more markers appeared, bringing a total of four detections to the plot.

  “Koramiral? Four transitions in total?”

  “Yes, Albayi Mimaroğlu. Four. Please contact your shore batteries and lighting units to confirm the orders.”

  “Sir… four… what is Command’s purpose in allowi…”

  “Now, Mimaroğlu, now. The General Staff will not accept any errors from either of us, so be quick about it.”

  The Captain could not escape the feeling that he was being railroaded into something, but his inkling could not overcome direct orders, so he summoned a waiting lieutenant.

  “Yüzbaşısı Reis, contact all gun and searchlight batteries, patrol vessels, and torpedo stations… confirm order 592, issued at 1700 today. Require positive confirmation of receipt and understanding.”

  Senior Lieutenant Reis moved quickly having already heard the order, as his waiting position well within earshot of the two senior men.

  “What is that?”

  Tezeren extended his pipe stem towards the errant plot.

  “What the hell’s that?”

  Mimaroğlu was already checking the information in front of him, paperwork that recorded the vessels expected to traverse his area of responsibility for forty-eight hours to come.

  Whatever it was did not appear on his sheet.

  “Reis! Contact that vessel immediately! Find out who the idiot is and tell him… no… order him to heave to…I want him on the shore track by Eceabat as soon as possible.”

  “Sir!”

  “So, Albayi?”

  “Koramiral, there is no record of anything traversing east to west until tomorrow morning at approximately 0800 hrs, when the Gayret is due to make passage through our area on her way from Gölcük to Izmir.”

  “So who is it?”

  Reis stepped forward.

  “Sir, there is no response from the vessel in question.”

  “Try every radio channel known to Allah! They must be listening, even if they’re struck dumb…”

  Mimaroğlu suddenly felt something wash over his brain, a something that could mean disaster for him and his men.

  There was no time for niceties.

  “Someone… anyone… find the original notification from Fleet Headquarters about the passage of the Gayret… find it now!”

  It was the ‘struck dumb’ thought that had prompted the memory, of a routine order amongst many routine orders that spoke of the Gayret’s passage under strict radio and radar blackout.

  It took less than a minute for the full original order to be located, and less than thirty seconds for the error to be revealed.

  ‘0800…2000…’

  ‘Oruspu! 8am… 8pm… which fucking idiot…’

  Setting aside that someone would pay for the simple and stupid error, Mimaroğlu acted immediately.

  “Yüzbaşısı Reis, contact all searchlight batteries… have them standby to illuminate the channel on my command!”

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Albayi?”

  “Sir, the vessel is the Gayret and it’s under strict radio and radar shutdown, conducting a night navigation exercise through the strai…”

  “Then order her to heave to. You have the authority!”

  “It won’t respond to us even if it’s listening, Sir. Our friends are sailing in a narrow waterway, straight at a large vessel coming the other way… neither group will be using lights… neither group is using navigational radar. It’s a recipe for disaster and I’m going to avoid it by acting right now.”

  “What are you proposing, man?”

  “I’m going to light the whole place up so they can’t fail to see each other.”

  “But secrecy is key to…”

  “With the greatest of respect, Koramiral, if they collide your secrecy is shot and we’ll all have blood on our hands, not to say a diplomatic incident with our neighbours!”

  Tezeren turned to examine the plot.

  The Turkish Navy’s Gayret, once called the Oribi, an ‘O’ class destroyer of His Majesty’s Royal Navy, was already executing the port turn that would bring her down towards Ҫannakale.

  The four other vessels were four kilometres from Kilitbahir.

  “Yarbayi Nadir, to me!”

  Commander Nadir sprang forward quickly.

  Mimaroğlu explained the situation and his plan.

  “Understood, Sir.”

  “Excellent.”

  The Captain took a last look at the plot and made his decision.

  “Albayi Mimaroğlu, I must protes…”

  He cut the Admiral’s remonstration short.

  “Now. Get the searchlight batteries illuminated immediately. Priority is to pick out the vessels and keep them in their beams. We must give each vessel plenty of opportunity to see the other. Order the shore batteries to stand by to put a shot across the bows of any vessel that appears to be a danger… emphasis considerably across the bows… two hundred metres at least… we don’t want any accidents.”

  Mimaroğlu had once been a submariner, so wanted distance to avoid any issues with shockwaves and torpedo tube doors.

  “I’ll take a small signal party aloft and issue any further orders via the command line.”

  Tezeren went to protest again but action overtook him.

  Beckoning three men to him, the captain was already heading to the stairwell and the open-air command position on the roof of the CNFC building.

  The cool breeze that greeted the men as they sprang up three stairs at a time paled into insignificance as night became day.

  The searchlight batteries arraigned along the banks of the Dardanelle
s illuminated and sought out the vessels that were bearing down on each other.

  Both Tezeren and Mimaroğlu sought out the group of submarines first.

  “Oruspu! What in the name of…”

  Mimaroğlu drew in every detail of the partially submerged vessels that were moving across his field of vision, left to right in line astern.

  His binoculars picked out the Bulgarian flag on the lead vessel, a large submarine of a type unfamiliar to him.

  His submariner’s brain examined the revealed features as his inquisitive brain screamed to look back at the second one again.

  He controlled himself before moving slightly to the left and taking in the immense shape that was second in line.

  “Oruspu! What in the name of… what is that?”

  Tezeren slipped in beside the incredulous man.

  “Now you understand why the need for secrecy was paramount, Mimaroğlu. The Gayret is manoeuvring to come in closer to land, and the lead Bulgarian seems to have moved over. Kill the lights immediately!”

  The Captain remained silent as he took in the incredible proportions of the huge Bulgarian submarine.

  His professional eye recorded detail after detail, some familiar, some merely posing questions to which he had no response.

  “I must make sure they have both heeded the other, Koramiral… it’s huge, Koramiral. Never seen its like.”

  Tezeren went with the pre-arranged explanation.

  “They’re experimental submarines from the Rijeka shipyards, built by the Yugos for their Bulgarian friends. Present circumstances have forced them to make passage to the Black Sea. Our government has exacted a heavy price for our compliance and tolerance of their passage. Now kill the lights, Mimaroğlu!”

  The Captain judged that there was now no risk, and he grabbed the telephone and issued the order.