by Jon F. Merz
“Get the passengers inside. Put the elderly in the mess and bring the younger ones to the bridge.” He had nodded toward both Thatcher and Cyra, which told Thatcher where they were headed. He thought about letting Cyra know, but then decided against it. There was nothing pressing about the information, so letting her know that Thatcher could understand German wasn’t proper just yet.
The German sailors immediately snapped to attention and began carrying out the order, but still with respect. They approached and one of them explained what was happening in English. The older couple was asked to follow them toward the mess deck, while two others separated Thatcher and Cyra from the group, informing them that the Captain would like a word with them. Thatcher said nothing but smiled and nodded to show he understood. He thought it would be best if he pretended to be slightly scared rather than confident and unfazed by the fact they’d just been taken over by a German naval ship.
As they were led into the superstructure, he noted that the entire assembly was meticulously clean. There was no rust anywhere; Thatcher assumed the Captain would consider it a personal affront to his honor if that had ever been allowed to happen. The interior of the structure was equally clean. The floors gleamed from having been waxed. It was as if Raider X had two sides: its exterior which was justifiably burnished looking to aid in its camouflage, and its interior which looked as spotless and modern as Thatcher would have expected from a recently-commissioned vessel.
The sailor they followed led them up a flight of steps and then another until they reached the exterior of the bridge. The sailor bade them wait there while he went inside. Cyra grabbed Thatcher’s arm and he gave her a gentle squeeze to reassure her.
Finally, the sailor came back out and ordered them both to enter.
As soon as Thatcher stepped onto the bridge, he saw the dizzying array of instruments that lined it. The communications hub itself had two sailors working it. Two more were plotting navigational courses on charts. One sailor stood by the wheel. And two others busied themselves with other tasks. Standing beside the bank of windows looking toward the Archimedes with binoculars in his hands was the Captain.
As Thatcher and Cyra entered, he lowered the binoculars and then turned to face them for the first time. His eyes were a brilliant blue that immediately drew Thatcher’s attention. His beard was gray but neatly trimmed to frame his handsome face. There were the beginnings of crows feet at the edges of his eyes that, despite his stern demeanor, Thatcher suspected indicated the Captain had a good sense of humor and laughed a lot.
“Welcome about the Loki. I am Captain Klaus Schwarzwalder, in command of this vessel. The German high command regrets the inconvenience that has been forced upon you, however, our two nations are at war currently. And the Loki is thereby within its rights to board your ship and take you all prisoners.”
He stepped forward and offered his hand to Thatcher. “What is your name?”
“Thatcher. Harrison Thatcher.”
Schwarzwalder shook it firmly and with a smile before moving to Cyra. “And you, miss?”
“My name is Cyra Dumiere.”
Schwarzwalder bowed his head and then brought it back up. “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He stepped back and regarded them both. “I have instructed my men to separate you two from the rest of the passengers for what I hope are obvious reasons?”
But Thatcher wasn’t about to offer his theory so he waited. Schwarzwalder looked at them both for a moment with a vague grin on his face before continuing.
“No? Well, the rest of your co-travelers appear to be somewhat older than you.” He turned and looked back at the Archimedes before resuming. “You are both much younger. And I am always interested in learning more about people your age who travel during these dangerous times. After all, you, Thatcher, would appear to be in prime age for serving your country. And yet, you are aboard a ship. How does that happen?”
“I’m not British,” said Thatcher. “That’s one thing.”
“And the other?”
“I’m a criminal. I escaped from prison and took a plane hostage. I was shot down over the Channel and then the Archimedes fished me out of the water before I could drown.”
Schwarzwalder looked at him more closely now. “What a remarkable story.”
Thatcher shrugged. “There doesn’t seem to be much point in lying. I’m sure you could find out anything you wanted by radioing back to Berlin about us.”
Schwarzwalder inclined his head slightly. “It would take some time, but you are not incorrect.” He looked at Cyra. “And you, miss? What brings you aboard the Archimedes?”
“My reasons are my own,” said Cyra. “But I am not part of your war. I prefer to steer clear of anything having to do with such things.”
Schwarzwalder nodded. “And yet, you are my guests and I would prefer that we treat each other with mutual respect. I could have easily simply sunk the Archimedes from a distance with a few torpedoes. Yet, I chose not to because it surely would have resulted in your needless deaths.”
“But you shelled the bridge and killed the crew,” said Thatcher. He didn’t know whether Schwarzwalder knew about the death of Adamson or not yet.
“Indeed but their deaths were a necessary part of our operation. We couldn’t risk the Archimedes sending out a distress call.” He nodded toward the window. “Look.”
Thatcher stepped forward and saw that the last motorboat was streaming back toward Raider X. The Archimedes lolled in the waves and then there was a tremendous explosion midships that broke its keel in two.
Within seconds, the Archimedes vanished beneath the waves.
Chapter 18
Schwarzwalder turned back from the window and eyed both Thatcher and Cyra. “I’m afraid you no longer seem to have a boat upon which to return to your country.”
Thatcher shrugged. “I was trying to leave anyway. No harm, no foul as far as I’m concerned.”
Cyra looked at Thatcher and then back at Schwarzwalder. “I was journeying to Lisbon. I don’t suppose there’s any chance that you’d consider dropping us off there, would you?”
Schwarzwalder stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Perhaps. Lisbon is a neutral port, after all. But we are bound for the Indian Ocean and must adhere to the strict schedule that has been imposed upon us by German high command. For me to deviate from that would be tantamount to treason and I do not wish to find myself at the end of a firing squad when the Führer hears about my change of plans. He has tasked us with a nearly impossible quota of ship sinking within the next month once we round the Cape of Good Hope.”
“What about passengers then?” asked Thatcher. “Surely you won’t be keeping them aboard?”
Schwarzwalder shook his head. “We will rendezvous with another ship coming back to Germany and transfer them aboard that. They will dropped off at a location of that Captain’s choosing and they will eventually return home.”
“And as for us?”
Schwarzwalder continued to stroke his beard. “I think I would enjoy your company for a bit longer than that. I am intrigued about your story, Herr Thatcher. And also that of your traveling companion here.” He looked up as his second-in-command came onto the bridge and whispered something in his ear. They conversed in tones too low for Thatcher to hear, but as soon as the XO was done speaking with the Captain, he departed once more.
“I had hoped that we might find something intriguing aboard the Archimedes, but it appears I was incorrect. I’m assuming you only set sail within the last few days?”
Thatcher nodded. “That’s correct.”
“Unfortunate,” said Schwarzwalder. “But a good training lesson for my men. I’m happy with their performance. It was rapid and efficient. Just as it should be.” He seemed to muse for a moment before snapping back to the present. “In any event, my officers tell me that there was something aboard the ship that they did not expect to find.”
“What’s that?”
“A dead captain,” said Schw
arzwalder. “It would appear that someone killed him and recently as well.” He eyed them both. “Do either of you have any knowledge of this?”
Thatcher shook his head. “I had only just heard about it when you appeared and disrupted the start of an investigation.”
Schwarzwalder said nothing but looked at Cyra. “And you, my dear?”
“As Harrison stated, we had only just heard about it. Once your ship appeared, we forgot about it completely as you would well expect.”
Schwarzwalder nodded as if satisfied. At least for the moment. Thatcher cleared this throat. “Is it your intention to question the other passengers as well?”
“I’m not sure I see the point,” said Schwarzwalder. “They are all a good deal older and likely incapable of committing such an act. Had the captain been shot or stabbed, then perhaps I would. But my officers tell me the body had the apparent signs of traumatic injury which rules out someone older because someone like Captain Adamson would be able to fend them off and call for help.”
“Captain Adamson,” said Thatcher. “You knew him?”
“Oh, I knew of him,” said Schwarzwalder. “He was a gifted seaman who plied these waves for many years. I had hoped to see him once more, but death is a cruel thing that steals from us that which we take for granted. And this time, it is I who is the poorer for it.” He sighed and turned back to the spot where the Archimedes had been scuttled. “I knew him as a good man. And he would have proven a formidable foe if ever we had crossed swords. I find his murder extremely troubling.” He nodded at both of them. “I think it would be best if I separated both of you and had a lengthy conversation at some point soon with each of you.”
“There were other passengers aboard that ship. But they died when you shelled it as you did.”
Schwarzwalder nodded. “I will bear that in mind. But I’ll keep you separated regardless.”
Thatcher glanced at Cyra but she seemed completely unperturbed by this proposal. Thatcher looked back at Schwarzwalder. “Are we prisoners then?”
Schwarzwalder cocked his head. “Not prisoners of war, no. But I suspect you of perpetrating a crime, therefore I am well within my jurisdiction to hold you until such time as I can figure out who the killer is.” He nodded and two guards stepped closer to bothThatcher and Cyra. “You’ll be held in a cabin and given food and drink. Make yourselves as comfortable as you can. I will speak with you both as soon as we’re underway once more.”
And with that, Schwarzwalder turned back to his bridge and began issuing orders to get underway in German. Thatcher marveled at the crisp responses that his crew gave him. But then he was nudged by the guards and left the bridge.
Cyra nudged him as they walked. “What happens now?”
Thatcher shrugged. “Like the man said, he’ll question us. Try to rest up and get some sleep. That’s what I intend to do.”
The guards stopped first and placed Cyra in a cabin close by the bridge. One of them stayed there after locking her inside. The last Thatcher saw was Cyra looking at him with those incredible eyes of hers. He felt his heart skip a beat but managed to give her a quick smile before the door closed and he was prodded along by the remaining guard.
The descended to another deck and Thatcher did his best to memorize all of the elements that he could as they moved along. At some point, he was going to have to find his way down to the engine room presumably to start an explosion that would sink the ship. Thatcher had no clue how he was going to do that. He hoped that if he was ever able to make his way back to England, he could convince Hewitt to invest in some training for him. Thatcher was no saboteur and being asked to be one without much of any knowledge save for what he already knew, was a bit daunting.
Still, he figured that Hewitt had done enough research into his past to know that Thatcher would be able to effect some type of explosion when it came down to it. It had been years, of course, but Thatcher figured he had enough know-how still bouncing around his skull to make something work if and when he got his chance.
The thought of Adamson’s murder was a peculiar one for Thatcher to wrap his head around. Why kill Adamson in the first place? And who could have done it? Unlike Schwarzwalder, Thatcher wasn’t ruling anyone out. For all he knew, it could have been a disgruntled crew member or one of the other passengers. There was also a good chance the murderer had been killed when Raider X shelled the Archimedes. If Schwarzwalder was hoping to uncover the killer, then he might be completely out of luck. After all, Thatcher certainly hadn’t done it. And Cyra…
Thatcher frowned. Could she have killed Adamson? She’d been with Thatcher most of the previous night but the truth was that Thatcher had no memory of anything that had happened after they’d made love. He had dropped into a deep sleep and Cyra could have easily dressed and left his cabin before he knew she was even gone.
But she’d told him she’d left in the early morning.
Unless she had lied.
Anything was possible. As smitten as Thatcher was, he wasn’t a damned fool. He’d seen enough high society women turn to true evil from time-to-time. And he knew that anyone could murder if they had the cause and justification in mind to do so.
The question of why forced its way to the forefront of his brain, however. Why would Cyra kill the captain? What had Adamson done that would have mandated such a fate? It didn’t make any sense at the moment, but perhaps when Schwarzwalder came by for his talk, Thatcher could turn the tables a bit and ask some questions of his own. The task before him most immediately was convincing Schwarzwalder that he was not the murderer. After all, he’d already confessed to being a criminal. Certainly that would factor into Schwarzwalder’s line of questioning.
“Halt.”
Thatcher stopped as the guard behind him stepped in front and put a key into the cabin lock. He opened the door and gestured for Thatcher to enter. Thatcher inclined his head and said, “thanks,” before stepping inside.
He hardly had a chance to examine the cabin before the door closed behind him and he was once again a prisoner.
Chapter 19
Thatcher appraised his new surroundings. There was a porthole that he moved to almost immediately. From it, he could see the patch of ocean where the Archimedes had been scuttled, but the ship had already vanished. The scuttling charges had broken her keel and flooded the ship within a minute, taking her to the bottom soon thereafter.
As he watched, Raider X slowly turned away and its engines began to gain momentum. Thatcher could feel the ship starting to speed up and knew they would want to leave the area as quickly as possible lest they be tracked down by any Royal Navy ships in the area. Although Thatcher doubted there would be any operating close by. Hewitt would have made sure of that. He wanted the Archimedes taken and Thatcher to be brought aboard. So far, Hewitt’s plan had worked out precisely according to plan. Albeit with the murder of Adamson not being part of that consideration.
Thatcher turned away from the porthole and took in the rest of the cabin. There was a bunk, a toilet was partitioned off with a simple folding door, and a small desk and two chair made up the rest of the Spartan surroundings. But it seemed comfortable enough. Thatcher lay down on the bunk and wondered how long it would take for Schwarzwalder to make his way to his cabin and question him.
How had he known Adamson? Thatcher wondered if it was just a smaller community among captains that brought them both into each other’s circle or if it was something else entirely. Was there more to Adamson than just being the captain of the Archimedes? Was he more involved in the war effort than just as a captain? Had he been pressed into some sort of service in the same manner that Thatcher had? And if so, had that role brought to him to the attention of someone who would want to kill him?
He closed his eyes and thought about last night. The dinner with Cyra had been delightful. And the wine had been rather spectacular. He was sad that that part of this trip was now over. He was firmly in enemy hands, and yet Thatcher didn’t feel nearly as endangered as he
might if he truly had any skin in the game. The fact was, he still wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole mission. Aside from needing to ensure his aunt was left alone, Thatcher didn’t really give a stuff about Hewitt’s grand plan. And he resented being pressed into service at his behest.
Had Thatcher had his way, he might have stolen down to some part of deeper Africa and hung out with the rich Colonials that he knew were waiting out the war in their mansions amid the equatorial weather. Or even Lisbon might have provided a more temperate atmosphere for him to engage in his usual proclivities of wining and dining wealthy dowagers and divorcees while he worked to relieve them of their money.
Anything was preferable to doing what he was currently doing, he decided. But it was what it was and Thatcher was stuck aboard the Loki now. Raider X still had secrets to give up and Thatcher would uncover them all if he could.
There came a knock at the door and then it opened even as Thatcher rolled his feet off of the bunk and sat up again. Schwarzwalder stood in the doorway and despite the fact that the Loki was his ship, he bowed his head. “Do you mind?”
Thatcher held out his hand. “Please.”
Schwarzwalder entered and removed his hat before taking a seat across from Thatcher who remained on the bunk. He glanced around and smiled at Thatcher. “I’m afraid it’s probably not up to the standards of the previous vessel you were riding upon, but I’d caution you it’s a damned sight better than if you’d been taking aboard U-boat.”
Thatcher grinned. “I certainly won’t argue with you there.”
“As a commerce raider, what we lack in armoring and armament, we make up for with crew quarters. The men who serve under me are much more comfortable than many of their brethren aboard the various German naval vessels currently operating.”
