by Renee Ryan
Schmidt’s eyes turned mean. “Nor are you the second, third or fourth. She goes through them quickly.”
Jack resisted the urge to hit the man square in the face. “Better and better. I won’t have to teach her anything.”
Seeing that his scheme wasn’t working, Schmidt switched tactics. “Let us dispense of these verbal niceties, Herr Reiter, and get straight to the point.”
Jack drummed his fingers on the table in a show of vast impatience. “And here I was having such fun.”
“I know you are a rogue SS operative.” Schmidt paused to sneer. “One of Heinrich Himmler’s handpicked lackeys.”
Allowing the cold, bitter shell of Friedrich Reiter to envelop him, Jack narrowed his eyes and put the entitlement of an SS Sturmbannführer in his manner. No one was allowed to question a major in the SS with such blatant insolence. No one. “You are well-informed. For a sailor.”
The insult hit its mark, but Schmidt quickly hid his reaction behind a casual shrug. “I have my sources.”
“Who are these sources?” Even his voice took on Friedrich Reiter’s ruthless timbre.
“That is not important. What I want to know is how long the SS has been following me?”
Following him? “Why would we be interested in you?” Jack looked at his wristwatch and feigned boredom, but every cell of his being stood on high alert. “You are nothing more than a U-boat captain.”
Schmidt pressed his lips into a firm line and refused to respond. But the damage had been done. Clearly, the man had a military secret the navy didn’t want the SS to know about. He’d made a stupid mistake. The arrogant Nazi had no idea who he was dealing with.
But before Jack could begin his own subtle interrogation, the women returned to the table.
Soothed by Katarina’s presence, Jack had to remind himself not to stare too hard at her. Something about the way she smiled at him, with that secret look in her eyes, mesmerized him. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
This was an act on both their parts, but one that made him want to rid himself of Friedrich Reiter once and for all. Katarina Kerensky made him want to forget his drive for revenge and recapture the man he’d once been. A simple naval engineer who loved his God and his country. In that order.
In fact, he wanted—
It didn’t matter what he wanted. Jack Anderson’s life was no longer his own. He was a man with blood on his hands. There could be no forgiveness for him now. No matter how close he drew to God, God would not draw close to him. Why would He?
Jesus came to save sinners, all sinners, a small, distant voice said in his mind. Was it just a memory from Sunday school? Or truth?
As though sensing his internal struggle, Katarina reached out and squeezed his hand. For one dangerous moment, Jack allowed a thread of hope to rope through his bitterness. He pulled her hand to his heart and held it there.
She flattened her palm against his chest and smiled at him, really smiled. “I took the liberty of ordering for you, darling.” Her voice shook with emotion. “You will stay?”
He pulled her hand to his lips. “I am at your disposal.”
His voice sounded raw in his ears. Something powerful was happening inside him and it scared him.
Katarina’s smile widened. “Lovely.”
They continued staring at one another and Jack found himself allowing his own smile to spread.
The gesture felt foreign.
Schmidt cleared his throat, drawing Jack’s attention once again. “Now that that’s settled. Why doesn’t Herr Reiter tell us something about his life growing up in Vienna?”
Well played.
If Schmidt had done his research, and Jack had no doubt that he had, they both knew Friedrich Reiter spent very little time in Vienna. But by his condescending expression, he seemed to be buying the ruse that Jack was here to pursue Katarina for purely romantic reasons.
To be sure, it was always best to warn off a dog before the fight got ugly. Releasing Katarina’s hand, Jack slid deeper into his role of SS henchman. For a brief moment, he allowed Schmidt to get a good look at the deadly fiend inside him.
To his credit, the naval officer didn’t flinch. In fact, Jack caught the flash of recognition in the other man’s eyes. One monster appreciating another.
Hermann Schmidt was proving a formidable foe.
“Very well, Kapitän. Ask me whatever you wish.”
No matter what question Schmidt threw at him, Jack already had the answer.
Chapter Thirteen
By midafternoon, a bone-chilling wind whipped through the Hamburg streets. Moments earlier, Jack had left Kerensky with her companions in the restaurant and then headed south toward the edge of town.
Friedrich Reiter had an unscheduled appointment to keep. One Jack Anderson had put off long enough.
Knowing his prey well, he took a direct route along the intricate network of canals that had inspired the city’s nickname, Venice of the North. Every step he surveyed his surroundings with a well trained eye.
So far, the city had been untouched by war. Modern buildings stood shoulder to shoulder with the historic Baroque and Renaissance architecture that drew thousands of tourists to Hamburg every year. The city would not remain intact for long. The British were that determined.
Ignoring a twinge of remorse over the destruction to come, Jack put his mind back on his duty. Traffic was light at this hour, which made his surveillance of the area simple enough. He had chosen this specific route for a purpose. The SS needed to believe they had found him, rather than the other way around.
Enjoying the solitude while it lasted, he lifted his face to the sky and sniffed. Winter was nearly here; he smelled it on the harsh wind.
Barely ten minutes into his walk, Jack found himself in front of the St. Nikolai Church. While his mind had worked on the mission, his feet had brought him to this bold reminder of God’s holy presence in a fallen world. But rather than feeling hope at the sight of the magnificent structure, a wave of regret washed over Jack.
As much as he wanted to walk inside St. Nikolai, maybe get down on his knees and pray, he could not. Like all SS officers, Friedrich Reiter had renounced his church membership years ago. Jack could not be seen entering a church building. For any reason.
Another wave of regret flooded his mind. It was only a matter of time before the Nazis rid Germany of Christianity completely. A new religion had already been created for the people, one based on blood, soil, German folklore and the Thousand Year Reich.
Germany was on its way to becoming a godless country. Pastors and priests who dared to preach the one true Gospel were being sent to concentration camps as quickly as the Jews. Soon all the voices of dissent would be silenced.
Lord, what can one man do in the face of such evil?
The cold silence that followed his question was answer enough.
With a heavy heart, Jack started back down the street.
He barely covered a full block when a sleek staff Mercedes pulled alongside the curb. The vehicle slowed to a crawl, keeping perfect pace with Jack’s long, easy strides.
The SS had found him.
A block away from the St. Nikolai Church.
Jack turned his head slowly, leisurely, in time to catch a flicker of movement behind the glass. Eyes free of all emotion, he pivoted to face the car directly. From the backseat, a man in the black uniform of the Gestapo motioned him closer.
Jack’s fingers curled into fists. Heinrich Himmler had come himself.
The head of the SS had personally contacted Jack only on a handful of occasions, when the situation required secrecy, stealth and Friedrich Reiter’s sinister methods of warfare.
Himmler contacting his dark angel of death now, in broad daylight, meant something big was in the works, something that couldn’t wait for the cover of night.
At that thought, an increasing weight of responsibility settled onto Jack’s shoulders. He was in too deep. And no one would come to get him out.
&nb
sp; He was alone.
Or was he? I am with you…I am your God.
Himmler rolled down the window with precise slowness and then skimmed his ice-edged gaze over Jack. “Get in the car, Herr Reiter.”
Jack’s skin grew slick with sweat, the icy sensation slipping deep within his soul as though an arctic wind had swept through him. Dealing with a man like Hermann Schmidt was child’s play compared to a confrontation with the head of the SS, second in power only to Hitler himself.
Squaring his shoulders, Jack climbed into the car, into the world of darkness and evil that defined Friedrich Reiter’s existence. “Herr Reichsführer.” Jack closed the car door with a snap. “I was on my way to you.”
“How fortunate for us both I found you first.”
Jack nodded.
The Nazi motioned to his driver to pull away from the curb, then fell into a long, cold silence. Watching. Waiting.
Jack held the other man’s stare. In the stark light of day, Himmler looked more like an accountant than the head of the SS. There was a kind of exacting, almost efficient, strain in the way he held himself erect and unmoving in his seat. The irony that so much power lay in the hands of such a small, nondescript man never ceased to amaze Jack.
Although there was nothing terrifying or demonic in Himmler’s general demeanor, Jack had witnessed firsthand a bloodless indifference in the Nazi’s character that made the man pure evil.
Jack’s stomach pitched and rolled. As Friedrich Reiter, one of Himmler’s most vicious secret agents, Jack wore anger and hatred like an ill-fitting skin. Darkness clung to him, its talons reaching all the way to the place he’d once kept his conscience. He was out of his league with such unprecedented evil.
He feared he’d never come back into the light.
Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.
Jack nearly jolted at the reminder of God’s promise racing through his mind. He’d long since turned his back on the Lord. And yet, had God stayed with him all this time? Did God’s mercy run that deep?
“Herr Reiter.” Himmler cleared his throat. “We are obliged whenever we meet to remind ourselves of our principles—”
“Blood, quality and toughness,” Jack finished for him, accepting the verbal test for what it was—a subtle, yet dangerous, interrogation.
At his immediate response Himmler nodded in appreciation. “We weren’t expecting your arrival for another three weeks.”
With the suspicion sitting thick and heavy in the air between them, Jack shoved his desperation to cling to God into a dark pocket of his mind and donned the ruthlessness of his alter ego.
Friedrich Reiter would show only brutal efficiency, and nothing but absolute loyalty to his revered leader. “The early arrival was driven by my latest mission for the British.”
“Which is?”
The British knew that Jack had to reveal certain facts to the Germans while gaining more valuable information for the British. It was a nasty, tricky business that often ended in both sides losing. But the few gains the British did learn were well worth the price. Or so the new head of MI6 had declared at Jack’s last briefing.
“I am investigating a German naval secret weapon. One the British believe is responsible for sinking their cargo ships at an unprecedented rate.”
Himmler looked sharply at Jack from behind his pince-nez. The man had a sobering capacity for weighing the underlying agenda behind straightforward information. Unnerving, yes, but potentially useful if Jack stayed focused.
“Then it is as I suspected,” Himmler said.
Jack lifted a single eyebrow.
“Admiral Doenitz has withheld information from me.”
Friedrich Reiter was a mindless killing machine, trained to allow the SS to do his thinking for him. A brainwashing, of sorts. One founded on paranoia. “You don’t trust Admiral Doenitz.” It was an obvious conclusion Reiter would make.
Himmler released an ugly, twisted laugh. “I trust no one outside of the SS. The admiral, in particular.” And that, Jack knew, was true enough. Himmler’s paranoia was mind-boggling, yet all too real. Just a few months ago, he had created a state within the state. By law, the SS was now separate from all other German agencies and loyal to Himmler’s personal agenda alone. Jack feared this cold-blooded Nazi’s reign of terror was only just beginning.
He thought of the motto engraved on Friedrich Reiter’s SS belt buckle and ceremonial dagger. SS man, loyalty is thy honor. Such blind obedience could only result in unspeakable horrors.
Jack let out a snort of disgust and tapped into the role he was supposed to be playing. “Doenitz is of the old guard. His ways are dying.”
“Agreed. But the admiral is claiming those British shipping losses are a result of his superior U-boats. His fleet is not yet that strong.” A calculating expression flashed in Himmler’s gaze. “This secret weapon the British want you to investigate must be the true hero, not the U-boats.”
“It’s what MI6 believes. And why I am here.”
Silence fell between them.
But then Himmler’s eyes narrowed. “The actress you were with at the Schnebel Theater last night, how is she involved?”
Although Jack had expected Himmler to find out about his association with Kerensky, he had to swallow the quick reflex to deny knowing her. The best way to protect the woman from the fanatical Nazi was to give the obvious answer. “No, Herr Reichsführer. My involvement with Katarina Kerensky is of a…personal nature.”
He let the insinuation settle between them.
“Ah, very wise. A woman with her connections could be useful to you in the future.”
“Precisely.” But if Jack had his way, her connections would soon be severed, because she would be living far away from Germany. In England. Or, better yet, America. If Jack was correct and she had so much as a drop of Jewish blood, she must leave Germany immediately.
The Führer’s “final solution” was an unspeakable horror that must be stopped. Barring that, escape to all those soon to be affected.
For the first time since becoming Friedrich Reiter, Jack’s desire to end the Nazi terror went beyond simple revenge.
Perhaps he was growing a conscience once more. Perhaps his earlier thoughts of God were the whisperings of the Holy Spirit. Perhaps everything—the attempted murder, the becoming an agent—had been leading him to this point in time. Not to stop the monster regime for his own personal reasons, but for people like Kerensky.
And what better way to bring down the enemy than from within its ranks? Could good come out of this evil situation? Perhaps, if God was personally involved. This mission was too big for Jack to carry out alone. But maybe he wasn’t alone.
Lord, I—
Himmler’s voice jerked him back to the matter at hand. “Your visit is indeed timely, my friend.” A terrifying display of obsession flashed in the Nazi’s eyes.
Here it comes. The reason Himmler had sought him out this morning.
Jack shifted in his seat. “Tell me what you want me to do.” He spoke in Reiter’s uncompromising tone.
“I want you to find a way into the Krupp-Germaniawerft shipyard in Kiel, where they are outfitting a U-boat with a new weapon, the same one I suspect the British have sent you to investigate.”
Jack held his anticipation in check. This was the value of his secret life, this gathering of information from both sides so that he could piece together a solution to help the British war effort. “As you wish, Herr Reichsführer.”
“One last request, Herr Reiter.”
Jack felt a chill run down his neck, but he held Himmler’s unblinking stare.
“I want the information in less than twenty-four hours.”
Jack released an almost vicious laugh. “You have great faith in my abilities.”
“I have great faith in my abilities.” Himmler set a black leather briefcase on the seat between them. “Open it.”
Jack shot a quick glance at the other man, but Himmler’s impassive eyes ga
ve nothing away.
Staring straight ahead, Jack placed the case on his lap. With a steady hand, he released the latch and drew out two sets of blueprints. He ran his finger across the outline of the first. “A German U-boat.”
“A brand new design for a U-boat, to be precise,” Himmler said. “Type XB is the first of its kind. But there are two more on the way.”
Jack’s gaze flew across the page. His mind raced, absorbing details, memorizing the technical aspects of the submarine’s structure that was so different from other U-boats. “I’ve never seen one like this before. There are only two torpedo tubes at the stern.”
“A feature unique to the XB. You will also see a total of thirty shafts along here.” Himmler dragged his finger to the other side of the drawing. “And here.”
Jack did a quick calculation. “The dimensions are too large for standard torpedoes.” Which meant only one thing.
A new weapon. One that had been kept secret from the SS.
Himmler spoke Jack’s thoughts aloud. “We believe the shafts were specifically designed to carry another type of weapon. Your job is to find out what that weapon is, exactly.”
Jack nodded, scanning the blueprint with the eyes of the naval engineer he’d been before Reiter had come to kill him. He read each notation, then reviewed the overall proportions. “What’s her weight, submerged and fully loaded?”
“Top capacity is 2,710 tons.”
Jack released a low whistle. “That makes the XB the largest U-boat ever built. She must pay the price in diving speed and agility.”
“Which, again, leads us to believe the XB was built for a different function than open warfare.”
“And you want me to verify the nature of the secret weapon, nothing more?”
“That’s all.” Himmler’s lips thinned into a tight line. “For now.”
Jack flipped to the next set of blueprints. His eyes scanned the outline of the Krupp-Germaniawerft shipyard, focusing on the U-boat pens just north of the yard facing the Bay of Kiel.
“U-116 is in sub bay A-4, which is,” Himmler stated as he pointed to a spot in the northeast quadrant of the yard, “here.”
