by Roger Weston
At the bow, Jake climbed down the anchor chain and dove the last thirty feet. There were times when the best cover was no cover, and this was one of them. He swam out toward the harbor patrol boat, stopping frequently to wave his arms.
“Call security,” he shouted. “Let them know there’s a wounded man on the deck. Tell them to call an ambulance.”
The boat motored toward him and shined a spot light in his eyes.
“Hurry up and call security. Tom is bleeding up there. The intruder is armed.”
Jake climbed up the side ladder of the patrol boat.
“I just called them,” the man said. “They wanted your name.”
“It’s Sean. Now, get me ashore so I can go after the bastard.”
The man nodded and turned his back on Jake as he faced the wheel and reached for his radio microphone. Jake grabbed him around the neck with his left arm and removed his pistol from its sheath with his right arm. He shoved the gun barrel against the man’s back. “You know how to swim?”
“I’m not leaving this boat.”
“Alright, have it your way.” Jake pistol-whipped him, and the man fell unconscious.
As Jake raced the speedboat into the bay, he ripped the microphone out of the radio and tossed it into the water along with the man’s cell phone. A mile out, the man started to move, so Jake slowed to an idle. Kneeling by his prisoner, he tied him up, gagged, and blindfolded him. Twenty minutes later, off the coast, he came up beside his fishing boat and flashed his lights. Wan-Si heaved to, and Jake boarded.
“I thought you were the harbor patrol. What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain later.” Jake looked back at the harbor boat, which was now adrift. He guessed it would only be a matter of hours before the patrol was rescued. Most likely the guy would be found at daylight.
With the autopilot engaged and Wan-Si on watch, Jake went to the stern of his boat. At the rail he leaned over the side and peeled off the fake magnetic decal. It gave the name of the boat as Kiara with San Diego listed as her home port. Jake tossed the decal into the ocean and watched it get churned under by the wake. He leaned against the railing and withdrew his waterproof bag, which was heavier than it should have been, and he poured salt water onto the deck.
CHAPTER 17
December 30
3 a.m.
Wearing a thousand dollar suit, Charles Richter arrived at the Queen Mary’s empty first-class swimming pool and descended the steps into the dim room. He was followed by a burly man with thick, curly hair combed to one side. Broken tiles crumbled under Richter’s feet. Tom was waiting for him next to the pool that was as dry as dust. Tom Koch had the kind of boyish face and honest good looks that had endeared a grand jury and helped him get away with murder. He was a skilled planner and so far had wed his charisma with his calculating persona to control Richter’s minions with an iron fist.
“Tom.”
The man looked over at Charles and went to shake his hand. “Mr. Richter.”
Charles turned his back on him and looked into the empty pool. “Since it appears you can’t manage security here on your own I’ve hired Taine to help you.” Richter gestured toward the big Samoan.
The man drew hard on a cigarette and took a step towards Koch with a grim expression on his face.
Richter continued, “The Queen Mary is about to embark on the most important mission of her career.” Charles ran a hand over his silk tie. “If you mess up it,” he pointed into the deep plaster hole if front of him, “you will be taking a dive into this pool.”
Koch looked into the plaster depression and cringed.
“Look at me,” Richter seethed.
Koch slowly raised his head and met Charles eyes.
“Now, explain to me how a man was able to come onboard last night and wander around our highly-guarded ship as if he was enjoying a leisurely cruise?”
“I’m looking into that.” Koch shifted uncomfortably. “I guarantee you it won’t happen again.”
“Evidently, our guest had a hell of a time. Let’s get one thing clear, Koch. The Queen Mary is no longer taking on passengers for pleasure cruises.” Strain entered Charles’s voice. “That means your security team needs to keep the boat secure. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
Richter looked into the empty pool then back at Koch.
Koch did his best to smile. “It won’t happen again.”
“Do you realize that I have been planning this operation for twenty years?”
“No, sir, I didn’t know that.”
“Everything is ready for the January 10th departure of the Queen Mary. You better not screw it up. In two weeks you will leave to meet the Weissenburg in Tierra del Fuego to ensure proper loading of the cargo. Then on January, 29th as planned, the Weissenburg will rendezvous with the Queen Mary two-hundred miles off the coast of California, northwest of the Channel Islands.
“What cargo?”
“That is none of your business. Your job is to make sure it is loaded properly.”
“Oh, I get it. You’ve insured the cargo so we get even more money when the ships go down. You’re a genius.”
“Yes, I am. And one more thing, before you get to Tierra Del Fuego you’ll spend the week at my ranch in Chile. I need you to pick up something for me. While there you can enjoy time at my racetrack watching the fastest and most striking creatures on earth. Diego Petri, the vice president of my sports promotion division, will show you around. If this mission succeeds, you will be rewarded with other such opportunities. If you don’t succeed, you will be seeing the bottom of the sea. Got that?”
Richter paused. His gaze drifted away, and he stared off at nothing in particular. “It was 1945. The Allies halted 60 miles away and let the Russians overrun Berlin. The Americans could have stopped the pillage and plunder, the misery and the suffering, but they allowed it.”
Koch looked at Richter in confusion, and then realized that he had changed the subject.
“They raped and pillaged Germany without restraint,” Richter continued. “The Soviets razed Berlin, continuing their attacks on innocent women and children like enraged animals. People fled for ships like the Wilhelm Gustloff, but they were all over capacity.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Silence!” Richter glared at him with a dead man’s expression. “January 30th. We must be ready.” He turned to Taine. “Find our intruder.”
***
An hour later, Taine was soaring over the Pacific Ocean at 120 miles per hour in a Huey helicopter manned by hired mercenaries. Within just fifteen minutes, he entered the search zone, and the tech expert began monitoring the radar. While one mercenary worked the spotlight, another held the shoulder-fired missile at the ready. The first blip they closed in on turned out to be a hundred-foot luxury yacht. They shut off the spot light and moved on. Over the next half an hour, they checked out several other yachts and cargo ships, but saw no fishing boats.
***
In the dark of night, Jake’s old fishing boat motored into San Pedro, just eight miles north of Long Beach. The haul-out crane lifted the Wolverine out of the water and moved it to a boat yard with dozens of other yachts and fishing boats. Crews were waiting to transfer the boat from the haul out crane onto blocks. It would be painted the next day, but as promised ahead of time, the night crew began taping off the windows. Scaffolding was erected on both sides of the vessel. Within an hour, it was hardly recognizable.
As soon as Wan-Si stepped on solid ground, he cracked a bottle of whiskey and took a long drink.
“You said you wanted to hang out in Los Angeles for a while,” Jake said. “Now you’ve got a week. Just make sure you don’t touch a drop of that when you sail my boat back to Seattle.”
“No worries, my friend. I won’t even think about it until I get back to work at the university.” Wan-Si held out the bottle. “You want a drink?”
“No thanks, bro. I’m flying back to Seattle tonight.
Take good care of my boat. I’ll be in touch.”
CHAPTER 18
After touching down in Seattle, Jake got on the road toward the university. He watched his rear-view mirror and got Ashley on the phone.
“I blew it,” Jake said.
“What are you talking about?”
“The waterproof bag was punctured and leaked. The insurance documents were destroyed. It was all for nothing.”
“I’m sorry, Jake.”
“I’ll have to think of something else. I can’t let Richter and Koch sink another ship and possibly kill more people.”
“Then you might be interested in what I’ve learned about Richter.”
“What?”
“There’s a lot of weird stuff in the tabloids about him.”
“Like?”
“People go on about his eccentricities, from his obsession with clowns to his passion for horse racing.”
“I know about the horse racing, but clowns? That’s weird, but I’m not sure any of this is going to help me figure out a way to keep Richter and Koch from sinking the Queen Mary.”
Ashley continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “They say he’s a master of creating drama and spectacle to promote his hotels. He’s sponsoring a clown parade in Long Beach on January 30th.”
“January 30th?” Jake remembered the sticky note he saw on the blueprint of the Wilhelm Gustloff.
“During the week of the parade his hotels are all booked. Most of his competitors have no vacancies either, so they’re all happy.”
“Go on.”
“He’s mortgaged all his casinos to the hilt.”
“Why?”
“Conflicting reports—either he needed capital for new projects or his overseas investments were eating him alive.”
“Anything else?”
“Besides preparing your syllabi and websites for next term?”
“Look, I really appreciate your help. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
“It’s been hard to keep up with everything, and the administration is starting to ask questions. You really need to get back to work.”
“Don’t worry about them. I’ll take care of it. Just keep doing what you’re doing and let me know if you uncover anything else.”
“Oh, that reminds me. It turns out that the Queen Mary isn’t the first ship that Richter’s bought.”
“Really?”
“Right before he bought the Queen Mary, he bought a state-of-the-art cargo ship.”
“Another ship?”
“That’s where it gets interesting. The original story was published by a little business publication in Houston, Texas. After that, I couldn’t find any more information on the ship. It’s like it just disappeared.”
“What’s her name?”
“Who?”
“The ship. What’s her name?”
“The Weissenburger.”
“Track her down and find her. I want her coordinates. She can’t just disappear. Unless…”
“Oh, I almost forgot. There was something else I picked up on. Apparently, Richter is obsessed with the Wilhelm Gustloff.”
“I wonder what that’s all about.” Jake thought back to the blueprints of the Wilhelm Gustloff that he’d seen on the Queen Mary. “Can you arrange a meeting with Anton for me? I think it’s time I have a talk with him.”
“Sure. No problem. I’ll add that to my list. You know you’re going to owe me a real vacation one of these days?”
“Once I’ve dealt with Richter and Koch, I’ll take you where ever you want to go. I promise.”
CHAPTER 19
Edmonds Ferry
Puget Sound
Washington State
Anton Sokolov was a Russian immigrant who worked as a consultant for a Seattle expediting company. His vast knowledge of Russian maritime rules and regulations was extremely valued by shipping companies worldwide. Jake had met Anton several years ago at the Center for Wooden Boats on Lake Union, and they became friends. Their shared passion for maritime history provided many rich conversations. Jake especially appreciated Anton’s encyclopedic knowledge of Russian Maritime history.
Jake spotted him sitting by one of the ferry’s window seats, his foot resting on his knee and his arms crossed. He got up and shook Jake’s hand.
Jake thanked Anton for meeting him and they made small talk about ferries for a few minutes until Anton said, “So, what is it you want to talk about?”
“The Wilhlem Gustloff.”
Anton was quiet for a moment. “The worst maritime disaster in history.” He looked down at the worn grey paint on the ferry’s steel deck.
“Yes.”
Anton raised his head. “I’m ashamed to say that my country is responsible for such a tragedy. A lone submarine with an egotistical captain caused such horror for so many.”
“I’m familiar with the basics, of course,” Jake said.
“I’m sure you are. But most people haven’t even heard of the Wilhelm Gustloff. Few people know that the Wilhelm Gustloff tragedy had six times the body count as the Titanic. How is it possible that nobody has heard of it?”
“Probably overshadowed by the war,” Jake said.
“Let me tell you something,” Anton said. “Every person with any humanity should know about the Wilhelm Gustloff to honor the victims of that disaster.” Anton looked up briefly then continued, “My countrymen were closing in, hungry for vengeance. Rape and murder were out of control. Young Russian soldiers were taking their anger out on innocent German civilians. Getting a ticket on the Wilhelm Gustloff was a matter of life or death for those folks. Close to 60,000 people were camped out on the docks of Gdynia, desperate to get on a ship, any ship, to escape the Russian advance. All land routes were cut off at this point. Women with babies got priority. Mothers boarded ships carrying their infants and then tossed them down to relatives to serve as passports onto the vessels. Strangers grabbed and fought over these babies. Some of the infants were even tossed overboard in the desperate struggle.”
Jake closed his eyes for a moment.
Anton shook his head. “What happened to those people was too real. Of all the shipwrecks I know about, none has produced as many heartbreaking stories as the Wilhelm Gustloff. Nine thousand died that night—that cold, cold night in the Baltic.”
Jake nodded. “It was a terrible time.”
“Don’t tell me they deserved it. Hitler deserved it, and so did his loyal followers, his monsters. Ordinary Germans were held hostage by this madman—just as were the people of his occupied territories. They were victims—especially those on the Wilhelm Gustloff. Were women and children to blame for Hitler’s crimes? If so, then my own Russian relatives are to blame for Stalin’s mass purges.”
“There were some survivors, right?”
“Yes. A few hundred out of thousands. There is one story of a boy of only five who was heroically saved by his father. The father was a scientist for the Nazis, and he passed the boy and his satchel to a lifeboat. Some people say the satchel contained secrets of a classified research facility. The satchel and the boy were saved, but the scientist drowned as his son screamed for his father.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Let me tell you something; that selfless story is the exception. Shipwrecks are the birthplace of terror. They show what cowards people really are.”
CHAPTER 20
Suzallo Library
University of Washington
Seattle, Washington
December 31
The University of Washington’s Suzallo library was closed for the holidays, and for Ashley it was like being locked out of her second home.
She worked at the computer in Jake’s office instead. She spent a couple of hours searching, but was frustrated and began to think that she was wasting her time. Her research had been fairly thorough, and while she was coming up with new articles, much of the information was turning out to be repetitive. It appeared that Charles Richter had hired a public rela
tions firm whose job was to limit and control the flow of information to approved topics and standard biographical material. As a result, magazines and even tabloids recycled old stories and tried to put a fresh face on them, when in fact many of the stories offered nothing new.
She changed tack and read the online transcripts of the Long Beach city council meetings, covering the two years after the sale of the Queen Mary was announced. There had been a lot of controversy, and most of it had to do with the impact on the local economy. While some argued that the ship had been a drain on the city, others emphasized that many of the businesses in the area had benefitted.
In some of the earlier meetings, Richter’s agent had mentioned the possibility of selling the ship for scrap. This had stirred up even more controversy. Soon after, Richter’s agent said they found a buyer in Taiwan but gave few details except for the scheduled sail date of January 10th. One aspect of the fine print did catch Ashley’s attention, though. The agents for the buyer agreed to regularly report the ship’s position as well as weather information during its Pacific crossing to Taiwan. The reason given by the city council was that the Coast Guard would gain some benefit, and it would help regarding meteorological issues. The information, it was said, would be reported to the Maritime Traffic website.
Ashley skimmed through the rest of the information and learned that Richter Enterprises had a sports entertainment division called Richter Sports, headed by a Diego Petri. The subsidiary focused on the promotion of major sporting events, some of which were hosted in Richter Hotels, especially in Las Vegas and New Orleans. These events included boxing and wrestling matches. She noticed that Richter Sports also had a connection to international horse racing. Jake had told her about his trip with Richter to Santa Anita but she’d had no idea how well-known Richter was in the horse-racing world. He owned several famous horses, and had a lot of prestige in the racing world. His stable included some of the fastest legs in the game.
There was also brief mention of another one of Richter’s subsidiaries – Richter Maritime. That explained the cargo ship and that reminded her that Jake wanted her to do more research on the Wilhelm Gustloff. He’d asked her to try and find out more about the story Anton had told him. Jake had told her that he’d read many accounts of the shipwreck before, but had never heard of the scientist who perished in the shipwreck and the son and satchel that he sacrificed his life for. She wondered what this had to do with Tom Koch sinking the Queen Mary in an insurance scam, but she would do as Jake asked. She really could use some help, though. The administration was getting impatient, and she still had a lot of prep work to do for the new term. She needed information fast.
