by Jon F. Merz
Schwarzwalder eyed him. “I don’t have to include you in the report.”
Thatcher smiled. “Very kind of you, but I’ve been seen by too many of your crew. All it will take is one of them accidentally mentioning the American and you’ll be relieved of your command and presumably shot given the stories I’ve heard coming out of Germany.”
“Your assessment isn’t incorrect,” said Schwarzwalder. “But I’m sure we can come up with something. Any Gestapo involvement would necessitate us putting in at a port that is neutral or at least friendly to us. It’s not like they can land a plane nearby and swim aboard. There’s still time, if you get my meaning.”
Thatcher wasn’t sure he did, but since Schwarzwalder didn’t seem in any hurry to hand him over to the Gestapo, it was all the better for him. If they ended up going into port, Thatcher would slip over the side and swim for it before he allowed himself to be handed over. He had no desire to wind up in a Gestapo dungeon and be tortured for all of his secrets, few though there were.
Schwarzwalder nodded as Steinkopf reappeared. “Make sure you stay with him this time.”
Steinkopf snapped to attention and then Schwarzwalder eyed Thatcher. “I’ll see you later. Perhaps after dinner. We can discuss our…options.”
Thatcher nodded and watched him go. He glanced at Steinkopf. “Where’d you wander off to?”
Steinkopf grinned. “I hadn’t eaten so I grabbed a quick meal. Then I got caught up talking with my friends about what happened down in the engine room.”
Thatcher shook his head. “The Captain was ready to throw you overboard.”
Steinkopf smiled. “Kapitän Schwarzwalder would do no such thing. He’s stern but a fair man. The dressing down he just gave me was his punishment enough. No one wants to disappoint him.”
“That was a dressing down?” Thatcher shook his head. “Rather gentle.”
“Schwarzwalder sees no need for elaborate punishments unless there is no other alternative. That’s one of the many reasons why we all love serving with him. He’s stern-“
“-But fair, yes you said as much,” said Thatcher. “In any event, it was horrible what happened down in the engine room.”
Steinkopf nodded. “The men are nervous but none of us will show it around the captain. We don’t want him to think that any of his crew are worried.”
“Even though you are.”
Steinkopf shrugged. “Can you blame us? Their bones were…” His voice trailed off as he shuddered.
Thatcher looked at him. He was young, perhaps only twenty. Maybe this was the first time he’d been away during wartime. Maybe he was still unused to the way of the world. Hell, he might have been a virgin for all Thatcher knew. It wouldn’t have surprised him. Steinkopf, despite his name, had a baby face and bright blue eyes that screamed innocence. Thatcher wondered if he truly was.
“Their bones were sucked free of their marrow,” said Thatcher then. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d shared that nugget of information, but somewhere in his head he thought that a little fear running rampant among the crew might facilitate his true mission. There was nothing wrong with exploiting a situation for his personal gain, especially if it could result in sinking Raider X and giving Hewitt his victory.
“Marrow? What is that?”
“The core of your bones is made of marrow,” said Thatcher. “It produces blood cells in the human body, I believe the doctor told the Captain.”
“So whoever killed those men…did what with the marrow?”
“I have no idea,” said Thatcher. “But it certainly wasn’t left in the bones where it should have been.”
Steinkopf shook his head. “Horrible stuff. I can’t imagine having my bones ripped out of my body. It’s too gruesome to even think about.”
“And yet it apparently happened,” said Thatcher. “To five of your shipmates.”
Steinkopf crossed himself without apparently thinking about it. Thatcher smiled. He’d grown up Catholic but was as lapsed as it was possible to be. He didn’t think that God was going to protect Steinkopf or anyone else from whatever was killing people aboard this ship. But he knew that it wouldn’t stop the faithful from claiming they had his protection anyway. How many people had died still clinging to that notion in spite of their impending doom? Too many to count, he decided.
“In any event, I’m sure the Captain will figure things out,” said Thatcher.
“You think so?” asked Steinkopf.
There was a definite note of hope in his voice that Thatcher found cute. Steinkopf had replaced his own father with Schwarzwalder. He supposed a lot of the younger sailors did. They needed a father figure and Schwarzwalder was an appropriate choice. But whether the Captain could live up to their expectations was, of course, another matter entirely. Especially when someone was killing people on his ship.
“I’ll head back to my cabin now,” said Thatcher.
“Of course.” Steinkopf led the way and Thatcher noted that he was still armed with the pistol around his waist.
“Have you ever fired that gun before?”
Steinkopf glanced down at the pistol and shrugged. “In training. Captain also makes sure that we practice every week or so for the purposes of the boarding parties in case we ever run into any sort of resistance.”
“Has that ever happened? Resistance, I mean.”
“This is my first assignment,” said Steinkopf. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Ah,” said Thatcher. And there it was. Steinkopf was brand new to the sea. And already he was being confronted with the situation on the ship. “Well, I’m sure you’ll do just fine your first time out.”
“I have to work my way up to being a part of the boarding parties,” said Steinkopf. “Another few months of hard work at the very least. But I’ll do it and the Captain will see that I can hold my own. I’m more than capable of killing someone if they put up any sort of fight. I would die for the Fatherland and the Führer.”
“Don’t be in such a rush to kill,” said Thatcher. “It’s not what you think it is.”
Steinkopf stopped. “You think I’m a coward?”
Thatcher shook his head. “Not at all. I can see your bravery is apparent. But if you’ve never killed before then the image you have of what it’s like…it’s not like that at all. And it will haunt you. If you have to do it, then do it and move on. But I’m simply telling you that it’s not as easy as they would have you think. Stuff like that has a tendency of sticking with you.”
Steinkopf eyed him. “And you? Have you killed a man before?”
Thatcher paused and then nodded. “It was self-defense. He came at me meaning to cut me open. I had no choice but to kill him.”
“You killed him with a knife?”
In Thatcher’s mind he saw the scene replay itself as it often did late at night. How he had managed to avoid the swipe of the blade and grab it, ripping it free from the man he faced. The knife was slippery from sweat and then it cut his hand, sending blood all over them both as they toppled to the ground, grappling and struggling. Thatcher could hear the man’s grunts and exhalations as they both breathed hard, hearts hammering away inside of their chests. In that moment, there was no longer any civility; just sheer primal instinct to turn the blade upon the other and sink it home. And when Thatcher finally did, the knife went in far easier than he ever thought it would have, sinking its full length to the hilt. The shocked gasp of surprise followed by a slow exhalation as the man’s eyes locked one final time on Thatcher’s before rolling back as he slid away in a haze of blood, sweat, and exertion.
“Herr Thatcher.”
Thatcher blinked and the image vanished, leaving him once more aboard Raider X on the deck. A cool breeze blew over him and Thatcher realized that he had actually started sweating as he’d relived the memory. He looked at Steinkopf and took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Yes. With a knife.”
Steinkopf stared at Thatcher. “I can see it still haunts you.”
“At night, mostly,” said Thatcher. “But it is as vivid today as it was when it actually happened.”
Steinkopf turned away. “We should go.”
“Yes,” said Thatcher. And he followed the young guard off the deck.
Chapter 29
Thatcher didn’t see Schwarzwalder until well after dinner when Steinkopf knocked on the door to his cabin and informed him that the Captain was asking to see him. Thatcher followed Steinkopf who asked what Thatcher had thought of the dinner they had served today.
“The chicken was quite juicy. The potatoes could have used a bit more time boiling, I thought. But overall, quite good.”
Steinkopf nodded proudly. “The cook is one of the best. The Captain was able to procure him because of the nature of our work. Commerce raiders, like U-boats are able to requisition better crew and talent given the danger of our missions. The least they can do is give us a cook who can keep our spirits up when things take a turn for the worse.”
“Have they?” asked Thatcher.
Steinkopf just eyed him. “You tell me how things ought to be when five of your friends are brutally killed.”
“Point taken,” said Thatcher.
Steinkopf stayed silent for the rest of their journey until they reached Schwarzwalder’s cabin. He knocked twice and then opened the door for Thatcher to enter.
Schwarzwalder was perusing some file which he closed when Thatcher entered. “You’ve eaten?”
“I did,” said Thatcher. “I was informing Steinkopf that the cook is excellent and he told me that you were able to procure his talents.”
“Such as they are,” said Schwarzwalder with a smile. “We’re not as fancy as that ship the Archimedes that you cruised on, but we do all right. A good cook is invaluable to the morale of the crew.”
“Speaking of which,” said Thatcher. “You may have some problems in that department. Steinkopf mentioned that a lot of the men are a more than a bit upset at the nature of the killings.”
“They share the same frustration that I feel,” said Schwarzwalder with a grunt. “I’m not happy about them, either. As a Captain, it’s my job to bring my crew home after every cruise. I’m already down five men and we haven’t even started our official hunting just yet.” He glanced at Thatcher. “Taking the Archimedes, notwithstanding.”
“Noted,” said Thatcher. He pointed at a chair. “Do you mind?”
“Please.” Schwarzwalder moved his own chair to give Thatcher some room. Then the Captain let out a heavy sigh. “As I mentioned, I radioed Berlin and informed them of the situation. Both with Adamson and the recent killings.”
Thatcher nodded. “And I’m sure they were not happy.”
“An understatement to say the least. But they very much want to question Cyra so we’re being ordered to make for Tenerife where I’ll offload the woman and be done with her finally.”
“Tenerife?” Thatcher shook his head. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s part of the Canary Islands. A little more than three hundred kilometers off the coast of Africa. The Spanish own them, which is fortunate for us since they’re neutral to a point but they also owe Germany a great deal of money and have been known to help us quite a bit. We’ll find a friendly harbor when we arrive there. And I’m told the Gestapo have an outpost of sorts on the islands, so they can take ownership immediately and make plans to transfer her back to Berlin.”
Thatcher frowned. “What are the odds that the Gestapo had a unit in such a strange place?”
Schwarzwalder held up his hand. “I do my best not to ask any questions that I do not wish to know the answers to, especially when it comes to people like the SS and the Gestapo. It is better if my world does not intersect theirs as much as is humanly possible. I would prefer if it never did, but given the nature of these killings, I now find myself forced to put into port rather than continue on our trek into the Indian Ocean. Delays upset me and they upset my schedule. The sooner it is done, the better off I will feel.”
“Understood,” said Thatcher. “How soon until we reach Tenerife?”
“By my clock? Twenty four hours,” said Schwarzwalder. “And it can’t come soon enough. I want that woman off the ship.” He paused. “You know in the old days, they used to consider a woman on a boat as bad luck. I never put any sort of thought into it, but I’ll be damned if I don’t find myself wondering if there was any sort of wisdom to the notion in the first place, especially in light of what has happened.”
Thatcher smiled. “Superstition is one of those things a person can find a reason to believe in if they aren’t careful.”
“Indeed. But you must grant that it’s not as outlandish as you might have thought before all of this.”
“Indeed,” said Thatcher. “Although I would hope that there is nothing to it. It would certainly make cruising a thing of boredom were it not for the fairer sex aboard.”
Schwarzwalder frowned. “I’m a navy man. I can’t even imagine taking a cruise for pleasure of all things. My duty lies with my country and what I will do to help her win the war.”
“Then let us hope that your stay in Tenerife is a short one and that you proceed without any more issues on your way to the Indian Ocean.”
Schwarzwalder reached up and brought down the bottle of schnapps that he had produced the previous night. “Well, you said as much that you slept poorly last night. As did I. Let us hope another small drink won’t make it two nights in a row.” He poured a measure into two glasses and handed one to Thatcher. “Prost!”
Thatcher clinked his glass and drank the schnapps down immediately. It burned going down his throat but he relished the flavor of the strong drink. He put the glass back down on the small table and regarded Schwarzwalder. “There is that other matter we discussed.”
“Your matter,” said Schwarzwalder. “Yes. I have been thinking about that.”
“And?”
Schwarzwalder poured them both another drink and then leaned back, taking his time with this pour to savor it a bit more than he had the first time. “I think you should plan to slip over the side and vanish when we approach the port. There’s a portion of the channel that I think will be accessible and an easy swim ashore from the ship itself.”
“Sharks?”
Schwarzwalder shrugged. “The beasts are everywhere along this stretch of coastline and no doubt present around the islands as well. But they’re nowhere near as bad as they would be when we round the tip of the continent. I should think your chances are rather good, actually. Provided you swim quickly.”
Thatcher sighed. “Not exactly doing much for my confidence.”
“Better the sharks than the Gestapo,” said Schwarzwalder. “At least with the sea wolves, you’ll know the outcome once they take the first bite. I’d rather that then languish in some Gestapo prison being tortured nonstop.”
Thatcher frowned and sipped his drink. “Brilliant choices, the both of them.”
“Or you’re welcome to stay aboard and wait for the Gestapo to wonder why an American is here. No doubt they’ll have quite an extraordinary number of questions for you to answer and one would think that the time it would take to ask such a volume would preclude them from doing so on this ship, especially given the urgent need for us to be in the Indian Ocean.”
Thatcher grinned. “You do have a way with words, Captain.”
“Well, it’s your choice, Thatcher: swim with the sharks or get eaten by them once you’re carted back to Berlin. That is, if you even survive the journey. God knows what that woman will be like when they try to take her prisoner.”
Thatcher frowned. “I wouldn’t want to be around for that.”
“It’s fortunate that you didn’t start to have feelings for her.”
Thatcher shrugged. “I do my best not to. It tends to complicate things to the point that they fall apart rather quickly.”
“Indeed,” said Schwarzwalder. “I would hazard to guess that you do not allow feelings to ever complicate your life.
”
“Yes and no,” said Thatcher. “But only when I can afford it. This was not one of those times. As delightful a companion as she may have been for the first twenty-four hours or so.”
“Then let us hope that the transfer is both speedy and efficient. I will let you know when you can slip over the side and make good your escape. You must be ready at a moment’s notice because no doubt they will be on the lookout for our arrival.”
“Noted,” said Thatcher. “Do you intend to tell Cyra what is going to take place?”
Schwarzwalder lifted his drink and sipped it before putting it back down on the table once more. He fixed Thatcher with a steady gaze and smiled. “Would you tell her?”
“No,” said Thatcher.
Schwarzwalder nodded. “Exactly.”
Chapter 30
Back in his cabin, Thatcher considered the choices before him. He’d lied to Schwarzwalder but it was more out of shame than any sort of tactical decision. The truth was, he had developed feelings for Cyra, albeit they were more powerful when they’d been aboard the Archimedes than ever since they’d been taken aboard Raider X.
He was embarrassed because he’d let himself fall for her before checking himself. Thatcher didn’t usually allow that to happen, especially a woman he didn’t even know. And yet somehow Cyra had beguiled him to the extent that even now he was considering whether to tell her of Schwarzwalder’s plan. He sat at the small table and thought about it. But as he did so, Hewitt’s face floated through his mind chastising him for letting a woman potentially derail the entire operation.
Because Thatcher still had a job to do. And that was sink Raider X.
How in the world he was going to manage that when they reached Tenerife was a serious problem. It meant that he would have to find some way of accomplishing the task before they reached the cluster of islands. Less then twenty-four hours.
