by Pro Se Press
Chapter Nine
Death in the Express Lane
The dawn crawled out of the darkness, a grey creature that barely acknowledged an increase in light.
The rain still fell, but the intensity of it abated. The storm urge had also flowed out with the tide so that bodies and debris swirled around the base of the tree.
It was a vision of aquatic hell.
Camp Siegfried was all but destroyed in the storm, and the National Socialists that survived were random figures clinging to floating debris or perched in the storm battered buildings that had survived.
The Eagle and his companions hung like old laundry from their tree as the treacherous surf continued to move below them and made leaving the tree impossible.
They clung to it with nothing to say to each other, still shocked by the terror of the swirling waters and the horror of what they had seen and experienced. Debris of every sort swirled around them, making swimming in the brown torrent dangerous.
Some little time after the sun rose a voice called out of the gloom.
“Hello,” a thin voice called, “You around, boss.”
“Lefty!” the espionage master called back. “Good old Lefty,” he said more quietly.
“You look like a drown cat,” the little boxer said as he rowed up in a battered dingy. He looked like he had had a hard night as well, but his smile was infectious.
“A treed cat,” The Eagle said. “Who is ready to give you a hug!”
“Don’t get carried away,” Kovaks said, “Or I’ll just take this boat back to Coney Island.”
They helped the shell-shocked girl down from the tree first.
When Fritz made to climb down Lefty made a cross face.
“The Ratzi can swim along side holding on,” he said, “I wouldn’t want him to get contaminated by an inferior.”
Anger flared in the blond man’s features, but he had no strength to back it up.
“Lefty-”The Eagle said, “He can have my spot; I’ll hang on the gunwale so the boat doesn’t swamp with all out weight.”
Fritz looked at the spy fighter with a new expression and said, “No. Your friend should take you. It is right. I will be fine hanging on the side. Thank you.” He slipped into the water with no more comment and Lefty’s expression became suddenly one of guilt.
The Eagle settled next to his friend and they started to row back toward the high ground where the mansion stood.
“I was inland when it hit,” Lefty said, “at a diner... luckiest meal of my life, even if the steak was overdone. I was on high ground when the Sound came calling. It took me all night to find this little luxury liner.”
They made it to the knoll of the mansion where the water was only a few feet in depth.
“You must search for others,” Fritz said when he had helped the girl to the porch of the building. He was barely capable of standing. There were four others huddled in the wreckage of the mansion who rushed out to help.
The espionage master looked out across the small bay that had been the camp, and saw that the storage house was one of the buildings that still looked relatively intact.
“Let’s start over there, Lefty,” he said. Then he lowered his voice and added, “There’s still a chance to save this mission and Schultz.”
The two rowed to the shack and the Eagle slipped over the side off the boat.
“You need to get some food, boss,” the boxer said. “You’re not made of iron, you know.”
“If I was, I’d rust,” he said. He took a deep breath and ducked under the lintel of the doorway into the building. The Eagle waded through the mostly dry hallway toward the back room where he hoped to find the scientist still alive. Along the way he passed the floating bodies of the two guards. When he got to the locked door where the scientist was being held he yelled. “Herman!” He pounded on the door. “Are you in there?”
The Eagle’s mind was preoccupied with the rescue so he didn’t see the movement off to his right until it was almost too late.
Commander Keller, his eyes wide with madness, launched himself out of a side room with a knife in his hand.
The American spymaster whirled and avoided the first slash from the Nazi, the water geysering around them. The Eagle managed to catch one of Keller’s flailing arms and attempted to use a judo lock on the man, but the footing was so poor that both men fell into the seething water.
“I knew if you lived you would come here!” Keller screamed. “I will kill you!”
The exhausted and wounded American spy was barely able to hold the maddened Teuton off, even after the Commander dropped his knife. The Nazi tried to claw at Shannon’s throat and drag the spymaster under water. The Eagle, with a Herculean burst of strength, ripped the fingers of the German from his windpipe and shot a good old-fashioned American haymaker into the Nazi’s face.
Keller went limp and floated away.
The espionage master gasped for breath but was able to kick the door in and waded into the room. The scientist was hanging from a rafter, and it was clear that the water had almost filled the room completely before it receded.
“You came back.” Shultz said.
“I promised I would in the name of the U.S.” the Eagle said, “I always keep my promises. We will get you out as soon as it is safe.”
The Eagle and Lefty rowed the scientist around the camp looking for survivors. Everywhere there were floating corpses of men, women and even a horse bobbing in the water. One of the bodies that floated by the espionage master he recognized as Eva.
When the boxer saw the glum look on his friend’s face he did his best to cheer him up., “The tan is fine, boss, but lose the mustache, it just ain’t your style, you look like a bad guy in a Bob Steele Western!”
The espionage master ran a finger along the hair on his upper lip and smiled. “I was thinking more Clark Gable; but I’ll take your word for it.
The Secret Service, who had been waiting at a bungalow colony four miles up the road from the camp had been overwhelmed with all other public servants, doing their best to aid survivors where they found them. It was a late in the day before they could make a search of the camp for the scientist Schultz. They found him among the bedraggled group of survivors that Lefty and the Eagle had been able to ferry to the knoll.
“Bennett,” the espionage master said when he saw the agent, “I didn’t expect you to be in the field.”
“More like a rice paddy than a field,” Bennett said. “But I wouldn’t let you stick you neck out without being around to help save it; at least that was my intention.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” The Eagle said. “Nice to know my uncle really cares; just don’t keep my number on the top of your agent’s file.
The scientist was taken away on the motor launch with as many of the survivors as it could carry safely. Over the shortwave they heard of the extent of the storm and were once more stunned.
The radio announcer called the storm “The Long Island Express” and in the end there were over six hundred killed in the fury of the antic winds.
“We were lucky, Lefty,” The Eagle said. “We survived and most of the Bund were waterlogged in the process, but rest assured the coming storm of these goosesteppers will sweep all away who do not standup to them.”
“Ain’t just luck, boss,” Lefty said. “I picked up a special good luck charm while I was looking for my yacht.” He produced a bedraggled white kitten from under his coat. The cat had a little black smudge under his nose.
“I think I’ll name him Adolph,” Lefty said. “What do you think?”
THE END
On the afternoon of September twenty first nineteen thirty-eight a hurricane swept up from the Gulf of Mexico and slammed into Long Island. Brooklyn, Queens, and Nassau counties, located on the western end of Long Island, were hammered with wind gusts in excess of 100 m.p.h., but escaped the worst of the wind and storm surge due to being on the storm's weaker west side. Power was lost throughout the city.
Approximately 600 people died in the storm in New England, most in Rhode Island and up to 100 people elsewhere in the path of the storm. An additional 708 people were reported injured.
The site of Camp Siegfried was wiped out entirely.
The storm became known as the Long Island Express.
ISLAND OF DECEIT
by Nick Ahlhelm
Chapter One
Manila Sunrise
Colonel Walter Lawler sat in a lounge chair on the patio of his personal suite. Even in October the heat was sweltering. The rainy season only made it worse. When it wasn’t a torrential downpour, the air sat as thick as soup. He hated the damn Philippines. He hated it more than every other godforsaken little island they had put him on since the end of the Great War.
His fan hummed along behind him. The breeze it pushed across his sweat-stained white shirt and dress slacks, was the only relief from the never-ending heat he ever received. After over a year stationed out here, he finally decided to move command of his own squad from the base to his suite. At least here, he could sit in the open air when the rain died down. The only thing worse than the heat outside was the heat inside the closed off military base’s main buildings.
He heard the screen door open behind him. His personal aide cleared his throat.
“What is it, corporal?”
Corporal Jack Strickland stood at attention until Lawler turned to give a salute.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir. I know you were enjoying your moment of solace here and—”
“Don’t beat around the bush, man! What is it?”
“You have a guest, sir.”
“A guest? One of the local generals?”
“No, sir. An American. He has CIA credentials.”
“CIA? What in the hell does the CIA want with this bloody island?”
“I don’t know, sir. Should I show him in?”
“There’s no need to show me in.”
The CIA man walked in to the room. He wore a simple button down shirt and gray slacks. His tie hung loosely around an unbuttoned collar. He palmed a Lucky Strike, brought it up to his mouth and lit it. He took a deep puff from the cigarette as if it was a cool spring day. He showed no sign of feeling the oppressive heat in any way.
“You’ve got problems down here, Colonel. I’m surprised to see you look so relaxed.”
Lawler immediately came to his feet. “Problems? I have no idea what you are talking about. This island isn’t worth the land it sits on. I’ve been stationed here for three years and have done nothing of note. I’ll be glad when I finally get off this hellhole and back to the states.”
“Interesting,” the CIA man said. “So you don’t know.”
“Don’t know about what, man? Spit it out!”
“About the Nazis already active in your little island paradise.”
“Nazis? You have to be kidding me. What would Nazis want with this worthless little island? The Japanese maybe, but even they don’t have the cahones to go up against America.”
The CIA man nodded. “I hope you’re right for all our sakes. If the Axis got their hand on this land, it could mean all kinds of trouble for the good ol’ US of A. But that’s why I’m here, Colonel. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“Who are you, man?”
“I’m Jeff Shannon, Colonel Lawler.”
“The Eagle? Here?”
“That’s what they call me. Now tell me, where exactly can I find your telegraph operators?”
Lawler turned to Strickland. The corporal immediately hopped to action. He pushed open the screen door and ran inside the house in search of the pertinent information.
Lawler turned right back to the Eagle. “You got a name for the fella you’re looking for?”
Jeff shook his head. “Only an operator code. Four eight six.”
Strickland walked back on to the patio. He held a beaten log book. He opened it and quickly flipped forward to the proper section.
“Operator four eight six, Strickland. Who are they?”
“That’s Cruz, sir.”
“Cruz?”
“One of the locals. The woman.”
“Ah, Rosa,” the colonel said. “Is she on duty now?”
“Not now, sir. She works the night shift. She hasn’t shown up for her shift for the last two nights. One more and we would send the MPs after her.”
“Get Mister Shannon her address, corporal.” Strickland turned back to the Eagle as Strickland jotted down the information. “What other assistance can I be? If you’re right about these Nazi spies, we need to route them out before it’s too late.”
Jeff took the piece of paper from Corporal Strickland. He gave the corporal a smirk and a slight nod as he studied the information.
“You’re right of course,” Jeff said. “Right now, let me handle things. I have to determine whether this case actual warrants my attention, or more importantly, yours. Washington didn’t seem to think it was a false alarm, else they wouldn’t have sent me.”
“I see,” the colonel said. “The phones are solid here at least. Do you have the base’s number should you need to contact me?”
“I have everything under control, Colonel. Perhaps you should head back to your proper base though. I suspect you can do more to root out any traitors there than you could out here by yourself.”
Lawler turned to study the sunset once again.
“I suppose you’re right, Mister Shannon. I suppose you’re right.”
The Eagle smiled. “Of course I am, general. It’s part of what I do.”
Chapter Two
The Operator
Jeff Shannon didn’t like what he saw in Manila. The military was lazy, used to simple training exercises and little violence. The colonel was ill suited for his command as well. He only hoped his superiors did a better job of keeping order as they oversaw the rest of the island.
Still, Colonel Lawler could be right about the situation. The island was still mostly native. Outside the military, not many Americans or Europeans wanted to travel to somewhere as remote as the Philippines. Even the Spanish population of the island had dwindled in the last few decades. Spanish speakers were becoming rarer and most natives spoke broken English at best. His training never covered the local dialect, something called Tagalog, which only made his life more difficult as he sought directions through a city built with little plan for growth. The Americans seemed to have parts of the city under constant construction, which made travel even harder.
He finally gave in and hired one of the ramshackle penny cabs. The local driver spoke little Spanish and no English, but he could read Strickland’s handwriting with no problem. He took off through the city with little trouble at speeds that made even the Eagle a bit sick to his stomach.
The total trip took only five minutes. The number of footpaths he saw on the way made Jeff suspect the same journey could have been made by foot almost as fast. The address was one of several rundown buildings filled with over a dozen apartment cubicles each. Only a few hundred yards from the gates of the Marine base, Jeff suspected it was probably populated only by support staff of the local military.
He paid the cabbie a generous three cents American, and hopped out of the cab right in front of the building he sought.
A young local woman pushed her leg out of a long red dress as he approached the building. A golden dragon embroidered on the front of the garment was highlighted by a blue thread that matched the colors of the woman’s eye makeup. She smiled and waved him towards her as he walked towards the
door.
The Eagle began to change his opinion about the nature of the apartments. They may house some local staff for the base, but he suspected most of the occupants were here to service the Marines in a different light.
He walked up to the courtesan and gave her a smile.
“You like?”
“You have nothing that interests me right now other than information. Can you tell me where Rosa Cruz lives?”
“She no fun. Maybe you have good time with me?”
“Rosa.”
The Filipino woman pointed towards a hovel just a door down. A half dozen doors lined the windowless front of the establishment, while an exterior walk way went up to a second level of doors. Most of the doors were open to allow air in, but it would still take him far too long to search them all. He turned back to the courtesan.
“Which apartment?”
“Ocho, papi. You no like her, you come see me.”
“Not very likely, ma’am.” He tipped his fedora to her.
He turned towards the stairs that would take him to the second floor of Rosa Cruz’s building. When he reached the door, he found it closed and locked. It could be just a sign that Rosa was out, so he knocked.
He paused and listened. He heard no sound from the inside, but it almost seemed too quiet… too still. He reached down and tried the handle again. It didn’t budge. The door looked old, but clearly the lock was solid and modern.
He knocked again. He heard a shuffle from inside, a sudden movement. He pushed against the door. Loose on its hinges, it still held tight. As if someone was pressed against it.
The Eagle took two steps back, and pressed his back against the guardrail of the staircase. He charged forward in a sudden motion. At the same time, he brought his right shoe up hard. It struck the door with a sharp crack and shattered the old hinges instantly.
