He said urgently, ‘I found out where you were staying. Sarah’s with me.’
Blake waited. They wanted to cheer him up when all he needed was to walk, to think about the girl in Melbourne.
Fairfax dropped his voice. ‘Your wife is with us, sir.’ He watched Blake’s eyes and added, ‘I had no part in it. I wanted to tell you that before you see her. I told her nothing.’
Blake replied, ‘Maybe I won’t see her.’
‘I think you should, sir.’ Fairfax was pleading. ‘For your sake, and for Claire Grenfell’s.’
Blake took time to think about it. He had got to know Fairfax very well, and what he knew he liked. He was not the kind of man to panic or to shrink from responsibility like Livesay.
‘If you say so, Victor. Although I don’t see why you and Sarah should get dragged into this mess, too.’
Fairfax walked with him to a wide lounge. ‘In the ship you’ve got your responsibilities, sir. I wanted you to know that here you’ve got at least two good friends.’
A waiter with a loaded tray stepped to one side and there she was. Diana.
She was watching him, her mouth moist as she smiled in the way he remembered so clearly.
‘Why, there you are, Richard. At last.’
13
Secrets
IT WAS LATE afternoon, and although the wind had fallen away and the rain gone completely there was the suggestion of a storm in the air.
The thin, dark line of a tiny islet appeared to be almost covered at times by the long, booming ocean rollers, but it was enough to act as a breakwater, to provide a brief resting place for the three ships. They lay at their various angles, the sea rolling along their worn sides, while their engines attempted to hold them motionless.
The two raiders were so much alike that it was no wonder they could baffle even a skilled observer. And although one had begun her life in Kiel and the other in Hamburg, with a year’s difference in their age, their roles had become united.
The third vessel, a heavy freighter named the ss Waipawa, which was the sole survivor from Salamander’s attack on the convoy, was much closer to the islet, anchored while Rietz’s prize crew examined her cargo and equipment, although it had taken nearly every shackle of her cable, so deep was the sea hereabouts.
Rietz stood on the Salamander’s flying bridge, hatless, his face damp from the salt air and the low, humid breeze. There was a storm about. He felt his ship’s uneven motion and was conscious of his anxiety for her sake.
He watched a motor boat moving clear of the other raider’s shadow. Wölfchen’s captain was coming aboard as Rietz had requested. In his heart Rietz felt that their time was almost up. It would soon be the moment to leave, to find their separate ways back to Germany, or to an internment camp somewhere. He had known most of the risks, even if the grand admiral had not. But circumstances ruled the game, and the wounded and sick men in Salamander’s hull were beginning to pose a real problem. Without a surgeon, and only the barest facilities for looking after his mounting list of captives, Rietz knew he was going to have to do something. Release them, or put them aboard a neutral ship, and the hunt would be on fiercer than ever. The news of their ruse would be out, and two raiders instead of a single ship would double the forces searching for them. Land them on a deserted piece of coastline and the risk would be greater still. Shore-based aircraft would soon discover them and shoot down his Arado seaplanes.
Rietz turned his head casually to watch one of the Wölfchen’s seaplanes, like a motionless insect against the silver-bellied clouds. They had four Arados between them. In spite of fuel shortages they had to keep one airborne while they met at this arranged dot on the ocean for their first meeting in months.
He heard the boat coming alongside, the hoarse command of a petty officer who was evidently still trying to cling to the ways of the real Navy.
I had better go and meet him. Why did he dislike Vogel so much? He scarcely knew him, except from his image which was fashioned by the propaganda agency.
He saw the navigating officer watching him from the wheelhouse.
‘Yes, Schoningen, what is it?’
The lieutenant had a weighted signal file in his hand. It would go over the side the very moment they were engaged by superior forces.
‘It is our bulletin, sir.’ He looked sick. ‘From Berlin.’
Rietz eyed him calmly. ‘The Tommies have landed in France, right?’
Schoningen shook his head and then handed his secret file to Rietz without another word.
Rietz tried to accept the decoded information as if he was reading about something else or another time.
Storch ran up a bridge ladder, his sea-boots jarring through Rietz’s mind like hammers of hell.
The first lieutenant opened his mouth to speak, saw Schoningen’s expression and shut it again.
Rietz said eventually, ‘It seems I have been worrying for nothing, Rudi. Our most gallant and courageous comrade has solved the problem of wounded men in his charge.’ Almost blindly he thrust the file at his subordinate. ‘Read this, Rudi, read about thirty-three men who died in the name of Germany!’
For a long moment there was complete silence on the open flying bridge. Across the water from the captured freighter came the occasional clatter of a winch, but all other sounds were muffled, as if each man had been stricken by some terrible disease.
Lieutenant Busch, the gunnery officer, appeared on the ladder, stiff-backed and empty-eyed as usual. He saluted with a flourish.
‘Wölfchen’s captain is here, sir.’
Rietz took the file and handed it back to the navigating officer.
‘You will tell no one about this.’ He looked at Storch. ‘That bulletin would have been decoded aboard Vogel’s ship while he was on his way here.’ He did not explain what he meant but added, ‘I will be in my state-room. Show the good captain there also.’
Fregattenkapitän Konrad Vogel was junior to Rietz but walked with the springy step of a conqueror. There was something theatrical about him . . . his cap set at a rakish angle, the jutting beard beloved by the photographers, the Tiger.
Rietz waited for his visitor to sit down, then rang for his steward.
Tiger? He looked more like a jackal.
‘I have taken the unusual step of arranging this rendezvous so that we can prepare for the immediate future.’ He nodded as his steward, trained originally for the Hamburg-Amerika Line, padded in with his tray. ‘Schnapps.’
Vogel relaxed in his chair and regarded his superior blandly. ‘My command is in better shape than your own. As we fitted out originally in Japan we had to steam shorter distances. My fuel and machinery are thus able to serve me longer. I notice from the scars that you were hit by that convoy’s escorts. Nothing serious, I trust?’
Rietz swallowed the schnapps and realized he had emptied the glass. He never drank at sea except in moderation, and only rarely. But he knew he would be on his feet shouting abuse at the fish-eyed man opposite him, cursing him for what he had done, the dishonour he had brought on their flag.
‘Another!’ He made himself speak slowly. ‘I have some wounded, and my surgeon was killed. I am filled to capacity with prisoners and neutral seamen. As to fuel, I am not altogether satisfied. With Bremse gone and our Spanish supply ship also on the bottom, things are bad, although not critical. Yet. Berlin has informed us that a further supply vessel was intercepted in the Atlantic and sunk by a submarine when she refused to stop.’
Rietz ticked off the points on his fingers. He had to do it like this to keep from seeing those helpless, murdered sailors. Whatever Vogel had done would not change his own responsibilities, and he had always accepted this. But to be seen in the same light, to be known as a murderer and a coward, was abhorrent to him.
He said, ‘Food and ammunition are in good supply. Fuel and machine spares are not. I have only three mines left, the others were to be carried in Bremse to your rendezvous and then we could have shared them later. The high comm
and saw fit to equip us with a totally unsuitable mine, and the chance of a ship hitting one in this vast ocean poses a doubt on their sanity.’
Vogel’s glass froze halfway to his mouth. ‘What? Do you criticize our command? I personally believe we have been well guided, and our intelligence sources could not have done more.’
Rietz shrugged. ‘So you say. But the end is near. Time to discontinue the attacks and return to base.’
Vogel stared at him with amazement. ‘But that is fine for you to say! You with nine merchantmen sunk, one captured and two warships destroyed. It will looked splendid when you enter Kiel with all the house-flags flying!’
Rietz said, ‘You destroyed a heavy cruiser, as well as two merchantmen. That is surely enough? Between us we have made our mark, caused havoc with the supply routes and convoy sailings. To prolong it further is to invite our own destruction.’
Vogel flailed about with his empty glass. ‘That prize which you have at anchor? Can you use her?’
‘Perhaps. But I would have valued a better cargo. Of all the ships in that convoy, I would have to capture intact the one loaded with mining machinery and railway track. Not a lot of use in mid-ocean.’ He took a grip of himself. The schnapps was getting a hold. He snapped, ‘But I will decide, and when I am ready I will signal my instructions.’
Then Rietz stood up and walked across to one of the scuttles, feeling the faint tremble of the engines through the worn carpet as the watch on the bridge held the ship in position.
‘When you return to your command, Vogel, you will discover a bulletin waiting for you. It is mostly information obtained from enemy newspapers and radio broadcasts. About those men you murdered and buried like beasts. You, a hero of the Reich, the long arm of Germany’s might who can still stoop to such filthy degradation, you, Vogel, make me sick!’
Vogel, too, was on his feet, his face working furiously. ‘I acted as I thought fit, my duty to my own men as I saw it!’ When Rietz remained silent his voice grew louder and more stubborn. ‘There can be no half-measures in war. The old values cost us the last one, and your kind of sentiment can endanger our fight today! I am proud of what –’
Rietz turned on his heels and said harshly, ‘Proud? You have no pride, Vogel, only conceit. By your vicious, contemptible action, and probably many more besides, you have brought the world down about our ears! You have defiled the name of Germany and drowned honour at the same time! Now get back to your ship and write a full report for me. The names of those dead men, and the officer you ordered to execute them. I will hand that report to the grand admiral if we ever get home again. Now get out of my sight! But one more act like that and I will ensure that you at least never reach Germany alive!’
Vogel drew himself to his full height and exclaimed thickly, ‘I shall not forget. After the war things will be different. Then we shall see who was right, sir.’
As he made to leave Rietz called, ‘All your prisoners are to be ferried across to Salamander now. I want every boat in the water right away. And I am taking your surgeon from you also.’ He watched Vogel’s defiance begin to wilt. ‘See to it.’
After Vogel had gone, Storch entered the state-room and saw his captain sitting at the table, his head in his hands.
‘Can I do anything, Captain?’
Rietz did not look up. ‘My father served in the High Seas Fleet, Rudi. He died without means, broken-hearted at what had happened to his Germany. But he kept his pride!’ Rietz stood up violently and swept Vogel’s empty glass smashing in fragments against the bulkhead. ‘How dare that bloody swine talk of pride to me!’
Storch watched him, disturbed and yet strangely moved. It was like sharing something special, something fine, which he could not describe.
Rietz walked across to him and laid one hand on his shoulder.
‘To work, Rudi. Lower the boats and bring the prisoners and wounded from Wölfchen. Her surgeon, too. I have to make plans, to think and prepare.’ He shook the lieutenant’s shoulder very gently. ‘You are a good fellow. I hope to God there are many more of you when we need them.’
Storch went out to the boat deck and looked at the slow procession of clouds.
When we need them. Did the captain mean, when they met with the cruisers, or at some later time, after the war, perhaps?
He strode on down the deck, his eyes searching for the boatswain.
No matter what he had meant, Storch knew he would be proud to be a part of it when the time came.
Fairfax got to his feet and said, ‘We’d better go now if we’re to meet the others on time.’ He stared hard at his wife who, after several drinks, showed no intention of leaving Blake alone with his wife. ‘Come on, Sarah.’
She tossed her head defiantly. ‘If we must.’
Blake said, ‘I’ll give you a ring later.’ He looked at Fairfax. ‘I’ve got to discuss something with you anyway.’ He forced a smile but felt like death. ‘You two go and enjoy yourselves. It may be some time before it’s possible again.’
Only when they had left did he say, ‘Well, whatever you’ve come to do, Diana, let’s have it out in the open.’
She sat back in the deep chair, one leg crossed over the other, an amused smile on her lips.
‘Thank God they’ve gone. They really are a pair.’ She leaned forward and touched his knee. ‘Can’t you say something nice? It’s been a long time.’
Blake looked at her. She was elegantly dressed in a bronze-coloured costume which had certainly not come from a book of clothing coupons. Her dark hair had been washed and set that day, and there was no sign of fatigue from the long flight, putting down at all the various airfields, nor was there any hint of uncertainty or guilt.
But beautiful she certainly was. Desirable, passionate, he felt his mouth go dry as he wondered how many others had made that discovery.
He said, ‘You shouldn’t have come. How you fixed it I’ll never know. I suppose it was your father, as usual.’
‘Don’t speak of him like that. You make him sound like a tyrant.’ She lifted her chin with sudden impatience. ‘Let’s not argue. You can blame me for what happened, but you were so involved with your work I’m surprised you even noticed.’
Two young American officers paused across the room and stared at her with open admiration.
Blake saw her eyes settle on them, without warmth or encouragement. If there was anything at all it was contempt. The two young men hurried away in confusion.
She said, ‘Children, the lot of them.’
Blake tried again. ‘It won’t work, Diana. It’s over, finished. You’ll have to sort it out with your lover, whoever he is.’
‘I see.’
‘You don’t. You never have. It’s a game to you. It will happen again if you have your way. But as I said, I’ve had enough. A divorce is the only thing left.’
‘Really?’ She leaned back, entirely relaxed. ‘You do surprise me.’
Blake was caught off balance. He had expected anger, scathing words which could sting a man out of his wits.
He said, ‘Your father will fix it. You seem to have a lot of very important people on your side.’
She smiled. ‘Don’t be bitter. It sounds petty. I’ve come to make up, to forget the past and try again.’ She reached out and gripped his hand, pulling it to her side beneath her breast while she said softly, ‘You know you want me. I can make you forget. Bring us closer than we’ve ever been.’ She looked at the door. ‘We’ll go to your room. I’m sick of being stared at.’
Blake withdrew his hand, astonished that it had been so easy.
He said, ‘You think I’m joking? In a minute I’m going to walk through that door. Things are quite bad enough at the moment without you making them worse.’
She stood up and smoothed her skirt. ‘Divorce then. But we’ll do it my way.’ She looked at him and added quietly, ‘But when your poor little Wren gets her name dragged through the courts, and her father, a reverend gentlemen, I believe, is stared at by the yokels
in his village or whatever it is, don’t come crawling to me!’
Blake clenched his fists to his sides. It was like part of a nightmare.
‘It’s nothing like that, and you know it!’
‘Perhaps I do, but try to ask yourself who will be believed?’ She took a pace away from him. ‘I’m still here. Waiting.’
Several people in the lounge were at last aware that something was wrong and were staring with unveiled curiosity. The dark, beautiful girl and the young captain with a crimson ribbon on his jacket.
She said, ‘I’ll tell you this, dear Richard, if you won’t do as I ask, I’ll not give you a divorce without a fight. When I’ve done with your little madam she’ll loathe the ground you walk on!’
‘You bitch!’
Blake felt the room closing in. She was mocking him, enjoying his torment and despair. And she meant every single word of it. As if in a flashback he saw the little church, the glow of pipes in the garden, the girl slamming on the car’s brakes while he gave her the ring. His need of her would destroy them both.
She picked up her handbag. ‘I am staying at a somewhat better hotel down the road from here. If you change your mind, call me. If not, don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
Blake was staring at the place where she had been standing for several seconds after she had gone.
He turned and walked from the lounge, the buzz of conversation welling up behind him as he knew it would.
All the way to his room her words kept coming back to him. It was pointless to wonder how she had discovered about Claire and her father. But she knew her weapons as well as her own strength. After losing their son in the Paradox, Claire’s parents were in no position to withstand another hurt. In a small town like theirs the minister was important. How could he expect to protect his daughter and hold the people’s respect whom he met each day of his life?
And it was all his own fault. He had come to do the job he was trained to do, the one which had first attracted Diana and then as quickly repelled her.
The room looked even smaller than before. Blake sat down on the bed and stared at the whisky bottle and at the telephone.
A Ship Must Die (1981) Page 21
