Diving Deep

by P D Singer

  Maybe Lee would get his jaw cranked back into position before Bobby got back with his luggage. He’d better—he usually didn’t open that wide for anything short of Bobby’s cock.

  And that part wasn’t happening.

  But maybe…. Maybe it could.

  FOR FUCK’S sake, why was he arguing when the man he wanted to be with most in the world suggested going off on a trip? Even if it was halfway around the world and unplanned? Lee shook himself, knowing that if he didn’t get his butt in gear, he’d disappoint Bobby. He was done disappointing Bobby, and wasn’t this the best declaration that they could be together again?

  He didn’t need much—his few toiletries and a couple of changes of clothing fit into a backpack, and the passport was right where he’d left it. He tucked the Jane’s and Submarines of World War II in as well, and was squaring up the pile of notes when his phone rang.

  It wasn’t Bobby. “Hiya, Lee. How did your charter go?”

  “Had to skip the last dive because of the storm, but okay.” If Lee couldn’t evade discussing the dive site with Rafe Chatham, he could tell him to fuck off. But why Rafe was calling concerned him more—his divers had agreed not to disclose the sub yet.

  “How about the top time? I had Eddy Minard on the phone this morning, bitching like mad about you and Bobby. Figured I ought to hear your side of the story.”

  Lee sat heavily on the side of the bed. “Oh, him. He got a group schooling on ethics.”

  Rafe guffawed. “Figured it was something like that. He’s got some growing up to do, I tell you. He wasn’t so bad the times he went out with us, but I’m not putting up with trash talk for a whole weekend.”

  Lee relaxed a smidgen, but what else had Eddy said to Rafe? Even asking would alert a wreck diver there was something big to discover. “Can’t blame you there. He’s not coming out with us again.”

  “On the other hand, he was remarkably quiet about the diving. Considering how he ran at the mouth, that’s pretty strange.” Rafe proved that a diver could fish with the best of them, but Lee wasn’t taking the bait.

  “Guess he wanted to bitch about the mean old captain more.” The kid might be a protovandal, but at least he’d remembered his vow of secrecy.

  “Nope. He shut right up when I asked him outright. Now why would he do that?” As if Rafe couldn’t put two and two together and get something to chuckle about.

  “Because he didn’t want to talk about it.” Lee’d cut this off fast—he didn’t want to explain to the very man who’d be on his heels in a heartbeat. Or antagonize him. “I’m heading out of town, gotta finish pack—”

  “Oh, but he wanted to talk so bad!” Rafe interrupted. “I could practically hear his teeth grinding.”

  “Better than hearing what he thinks.”

  “There’s some truth. So, headed someplace drier to wait out the storm?” Rafe picked up the conversational gambit. Was the guy lonely or what?

  “Yeah, might as well,” Lee allowed. He knew something about loneliness, and the danger zone had been skirted. “Since we’ll be beached for a couple of days for viz.”

  “Where to?”

  “Germany. Bobby got a hankering to see the world.” Bobby would also be back soon. Lee carried the phone upstairs to shut off electronics and lock the wheelhouse. He stopped to watch the rivulets dribbling down the windows. Man, was he glad not to be out on the ocean in that mess. Lightning flickered the sky, and the thunder followed scant seconds later, nearly drowning Rafe’s question.

  “Nice. Are you flying in to Munich or Berlin?”

  “Hamburg.” He locked the instruments up, figuring he hadn’t spilled anything important.

  “Take the train as far as Kiel, and grab a cab or the ferry out to Laboe first. The U-995’s right on the beach. Then go south to Möltenort.”

  Fucking hell! Rafe might as well have been eavesdropping on their conversation. Or had Eddy said more than Rafe let on? “Making a lot of assumptions there.” He fought to keep his voice level when his hand was shaking enough to drop the phone.

  “Oh, were you and Bobby planning to hit the Reeperbahn first?” Rafe laughed. “Didn’t think you guys would cruise a red light district, but I’ve been wrong before.”

  “I think we’ll skip the Reeperbahn this time.” And every time. Lee could see Bobby’s silver SUV turning up the marina’s drive. “Gotta go, Rafe.”

  “Have fun. I’ll text you the info on a guesthouse in Laboe and another one in Cuxhaven. They’re about a quarter the cost of the hotels, nice local feel.”

  Why was he offering the exact information they needed? Damn, Rafe had to know more than he was saying. Lee hedged with “Good to know. For if we get out that way. Why are you assuming we’d go to Cuxhaven?”

  “Oh, you’ll get out that way. It’s a wreck divers’ pilgrimage.”

  Whew! Dodged a bullet there. “Then we’ll have to go for sure.”

  “Have a great trip, and Lee? Nobody’s talking, and you’re headed to U-boat Central on the spur of the moment. What did you find down there?” Drooling had a sound like Rafe’s question.

  “Bobby’s here, gotta go.” Lee ran through the rain to the truck. Damn that overperceptive Rafe Chatham.

  Chapter 14

  HIGH ABOVE the North Atlantic, Bobby flipped off the only overhead reading light marring the otherwise dark cabin and stowed the Jane’s beneath the seat. They’d ignored the movies, but sleep was calling. “Think you can get comfortable?”

  Lee tipped the seat back as far as it would go. “This plane has decent legroom. How’d that happen?”

  Bobby had been braced for a flying sardine tin, but this airline provided legroom, an edible meal, and the complimentary drinks included the entire can. Lee had eyed the liquor bottles in the drinks cart and asked for ginger ale. Thank goodness this airline wasn’t better known, or they’d have a third person to fill their row. He spread his blanket over himself; Lee did the same. “The MacArthur Travel Agency takes good care of you.”

  “It does, but this is still an airline seat.” Lee tried stuffing the pillow into the crack between the seats. “Guess I can brace myself on this.”

  “Guess you can have the mother of all neck cricks when we land too.” No reason at all why they couldn’t be comfortable. Wasn’t like they hadn’t slept in a two-man puppy pile most of their nights together. Bobby stole the pillow.

  “Hey!”

  Lee yipping like that made the offer all the more sweet.

  Bobby dropped the ill-gotten pillow on his lap. “If you curl up, you’ll be almost comfortable.” He patted an invitation.

  Lee sat still with questions on his face. Bobby patted again.

  That must have been more convincing—Lee tucked his legs against the seat backs and rested his head on Bobby’s lap. Funny how a grown man could take up so little space. “You’re sure?”

  “You need the sleep.” Bobby tucked the blanket around Lee and rested his hand on Lee’s waist.

  It was just for a night on a plane, but—it wasn’t just a night on a plane. He wasn’t ready to go whole hog back into their relationship, but they could touch. This much. Sleep together without a question of sex.

  Felt like old times. Felt like a new beginning. Felt right. Felt like the goddamn stupid inevitable boner he’d just popped would keep him awake all the way to Germany.

  And with Lee’s face right there, pillow or no, there wasn’t a chance in the world he wouldn’t notice.

  “Want me to do something about that?” he murmured in a deep, husky tone that said he had an issue going on in his britches too.

  “Yes, no, mostly yes, gotta be no.” Someone needing the restroom could come by, or a flight attendant, like that twink who’d smiled at them during the dinner service, or Bobby’d start moaning and yell Lee’s name when he came. “I didn’t think this through very well, did I?”

  Not least that he was pinned down by the blanket, and Lee couldn’t just fish his dick out without rearranging them complet
ely and drawing attention. What an idiot he was.

  And they weren’t back to having sex yet. Not yet. Not without some talk that seemed increasingly irrelevant with Lee’s willing mouth scant inches and too many layers away from Bobby’s straining cock.

  “Let’s try something different.” Lee sat up and rearranged himself to lie across Bobby’s lap, his face on Bobby’s shoulder, well away from the danger zone. Not that pressing his side against Bobby’s groin was that much better. “Think of icebergs and tofu and earwigs,” Lee mumbled into Bobby’s chest. “Earwigs especially.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Bobby muttered back, still only too aware of holding his lover again. But Lee did have a point. He might calm down in a little bit, enough to overlook this being the first prolonged embrace they’d shared in a year. Every detail of Lee’s body whipped across his mind, undimmed by the layers or the time between them.

  Earwigs. Earwigs, earwigs, earwigs.

  Lee’s eyes were closed, but the smile playing at the corner of his mouth suggested he wasn’t thinking all that hard about nasty insects with pincers on their butts.

  OH HELL yes—sleeping on Bobby’s chest like that was bigger than a baby step. Not that he’d slept well, what with the raging stiffy he got just being that close to Bobby. And Bobby had the same issue going—intense need and not a good way to satisfy it. Oh, they could have done something under the cover of darkness and a blanket, but… that wasn’t the way he wanted to start up again with the man he loved. Not with the luck needed to go undetected. Lee preferred planning to luck.

  Which of course was why they’d headed halfway around with world with nothing but a stack of books and notes. And Rafe’s texts, which Bobby needed to know about.

  But not yet.

  “Feels strange to travel without a gear bag that weighs a ton,” Bobby commented as they slung their backpacks into the overhead racks on the train to Kiel.

  “And not expecting to dive at the other end.” Lee had trouble remembering trips to land-based destinations. Had they made any? Did this one count? Was Washington, DC an official trip? It was just a couple of hours’ drive, a long weekend one winter.

  “When we dove the Red Sea, we could have spent another couple of days and seen the pyramids, you know.” Bobby checked the printed timetable again, yawning.

  “Maybe next time?” Lord but Lee hoped there’d be a next time, if not to Egypt then to somewhere else wonderful. Bobby looked thoughtful, but didn’t say anything. Lee wouldn’t push.

  Right now they had this time, which he’d make the most of.

  “Guess we’ll have to decide where we’re sleeping tonight.” Bobby yawned again and rubbernecked out the window at the bits of Hamburg they could see from the train. “There’s probably a Sofitel in Kiel.”

  “That’s kind of spendy for my tastes.” And probably fancier than his jeans and henley shirts would let him fit in to. Even better, it gave Lee an opening to mention his early morning phone call, which was still sitting like a stone on his conscience. “I have a line on guesthouses in Möltenort and Cuxhaven, though. We should be good.”

  Bobby all but pressed his nose to the window. “That’s organized of you.”

  “Not really. Rafe Chatham gave them to me before we left.”

  Bobby whipped around fast enough for a small sonic boom. “He did? Why were you asking him?”

  Lee flinched. “I didn’t. All I told him was that we were going to Hamburg when he called this—no, yesterday morning. He filled in a lot of blanks. Called it a wreck diver’s pilgrimage, and offered the info.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Bobby turned back to the fast-moving cityscape. “Then he didn’t call because someone blabbed? Eddy was pretty pissy.”

  “That’s what Rafe called about, wanting to know why we’d given Eddy the boot. I didn’t say a word about where we went or what we dove. Eddy didn’t either, he said. Which made Rafe suspicious.” Lee almost hoped Bobby wouldn’t turn around now. “Like I said, he filled in a lot of blanks.”

  “Well, hell. Guess we’re going to have the Tech Tach bird-dogging us on every charter.” Bobby grimaced. “Rafe and Bert aren’t going to let something this good slip by them.”

  “Maybe not, but Bobby—” Lee grinned with as many teeth as a shark. “—I know where there really is a nasty old unmarked garbage scow. I can sacrifice an anchor to the cause.”

  Bobby patted Lee’s knee and warmed his heart. “Glad you’re on my side.”

  Always. For as long as Bobby would have him.

  AFTER THE endless hours of travel, very little of it spent asleep after all, Bobby suspected he’d congealed completely. Extracting himself from the taxi that had brought them from the train station in Kiel up the coast to Laboe, he needed to stretch every muscle until he could move.

  For miles before they arrived, they’d been able to see the curved tower of the naval memorial thrusting into the sky, standing guard on the shore of the Baltic. Bobby glanced at his companion, whose hands trembled on the buckles of his pack.

  Had to be fatigue. Jet lag. Much too late for withdrawal—he wouldn’t have symptoms this late in the process, would he? Only setting off to the monument’s entrance and nearly twisting his ankle reminded Bobby they’d been awake for most of the past twenty-four hours. Lee had to be feeling it just as much.

  Too muzzy to dive, for sure. Bobby knuckled the sand out of his eyes, the better to follow the curved brick sentinel up into the blue. Had to be the tallest structure on the coast. A cluster of tourists passed by, chattering about the view. He hadn’t crossed the ocean for landscapes, but still he asked, “Do we want to go to the top?”

  Lee stifled a yawn to answer. “I do.”

  Bobby didn’t. But Lee did, and hadn’t he made some important point earlier? Besides, they were here, they weren’t in a hurry, and they might learn something, especially in the museum on the ground floor. The model ships in glass cases needed to be examined, the early sonar systems required attention. Paintings of submarines underwater, in their heyday. Bobby shuddered at some of the flags and said nothing of it to Lee, who stopped in front of a map. The Atlantic Ocean spread out between featureless continents, the blue speckled with tags bearing ship numbers. Clusters so thick they overlapped between Britain and the continent, more in the North Atlantic. A few along the coast of South America, more in the Caribbean. One off New Orleans. And another handful up and down the US/Canada coast.

  Lee didn’t quite touch the marker. “Here’s U-869. And U-521 farther south.”

  Bobby blinked. “We didn’t find U-521, did we?”

  Lee shook his head. “Don’t think so. If this map is at all accurate, that’s farther east and south than our site, plus it’s off the continental shelf. The water’s at least seven hundred feet deeper.”

  If you want to know the facts, bring an expert. His captain would know these things. “Could it have traveled that far after the battle?”

  That brought a shrug. “Don’t know. Mark that as a question to ask in Cuxhaven. After we see the crew lists.”

  Right. Bobby’s brain fog must be deeper than he thought. Of course, being Lee’s bedroll for the few hours they’d slept hadn’t been that restful. Last time he’d been this out of it, he’d dived to 180 feet on standard air and the nitrogen narcosis had him thinking a lobster was really a dropped strobe. He hadn’t been able to make it flash. “Glad you’re thinking of these things. I feel narced.”

  “Me too.” Lee snorted. “We’ll have to keep each other on our toes, or today’s going to be a waste.”

  Not so far. “Take pictures of everything. We won’t be able to find half this stuff online, and we’ll need to translate.” German made Bobby crazy, with similar words half-understood and others puzzled out from context, and none lodging in his head enough to actually use.

  Plus, he wanted a picture of Lee looking at the map. The kind of record they hadn’t made yet of this mission. He had other pictures, like Lee at Sharm el-Sheikh, wearing nothin
g but swim trunks, sunscreen, and the world’s biggest smile.

  That trip seemed so long ago, and with different travelers. Or maybe Lee had been different for a while in between, because this companion seemed more familiar than the Lee of a year ago. This Lee, the sober one, the thoughtful one, wasn’t half-bad. Bobby’d stick with this one, particularly on an elevator ride.

  Horrible things, elevators. They went up and up and up and let you off some place way too far from the ground. If you were lucky, you’d be inside the building. Bobby didn’t think he’d have a wall between him and a long step down. All he had was Lee, and how was he going to tell his captain how bad heights messed with his head? He wasn’t alone, he’d be okay, he’d be okay….

  Two hundred and forty feet later, Bobby stared out at the horizon instead of over the edge. The Baltic rolled away as far as the eye could see to the north, with Denmark beyond the horizon. Or he could look across the water to the wind farms on the other side. If he stayed put, he’d stay up, and the pounding of his heart wouldn’t knock him right over the edge. Even the center of this observation platform was awfully exposed to the down. Was there that much less oxygen at eighty-five meters? “Why are we up here again?”

  “Because it’s here, and so are we.” Lee peered over the edge. “Also, because we have a really good view of the U-995.”

  “We do?” Promise of a submarine lured him a few steps closer to the railing. “Uh, yeah.”

  The last of its series still intact, the U-995 lay on the beach with absurdly little security, a scanty rail fence to keep away the picnickers. For a man who needed to see what a U-boat had looked like in its heyday, the view couldn’t be better. If he could get close enough to the edge to see more than a sliver of hull.

  “This one’s a VIIC/41. The conning tower has two platforms and’s all roundish. About two feet longer.” Bobby’s memory for 3-D kept the details when he wanted them, which kept Lee from turning around. “But I’m betting it’s not substantially different for the layout. In that small of a package, there’s not a lot of room for variation.”