Thomas Greanias - The 34th Degree

“No, not at all.” Schneider sniffed. “In fact, the port authority has cleared you for departure. For over an hour now. You’re to leave at once.”

Tsatsos glanced at Karapis. “But of course. Just as soon as we load our last stores and fix that troublesome leak in the boiler room. You will check on it, Karapis?”

It took a few seconds for the first mate to understand. “Yes, sir, of course, sir. I’ll go down right now,” said Karapis, and left the bridge.

Tsatsos looked at Schneider. “Perhaps you would like to wait here with me while we test the leak. Our method is foolproof, you know.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” Tsatsos replied. “We fire up the engines, and if we don’t blow up, we know the leak has been fixed.”

“Thank you,” said Schneider, “but other duties demand my attention.”

Tsatsos noticed that Schneider was looking over his shoulder. He turned and looked out the window. At the end of the harbor, two Kubelwagen carrying a dozen SS guards emerged onto the docks. They drove past the quayside warehouses, tavernas, and kafeneons, rounding the harbor on their way toward the pier. There, they set up a checkpoint. Tsatsos looked at Schneider. “What’s going on?”

“Extra security precautions for the blackout,” Schneider explained. “Our orders are that nobody leaves here until tomorrow morning. Nobody except you. Now, off with you. What if the RAF bombed us and we couldn’t get our planes off the ground for lack of fuel?”

“Why, that would be tragic.”

“Yes, it would, Captain Tsatsos, for all of us.”

Tsatsos nodded sympathetically. “Indeed, your vacation would be over, and you’d have to report to the Russian front.”

Schneider left the bridge without another word, leaving Tsatsos alone to enjoy a commanding view of the harbor. He looked across the black blanket of water to the city. The moon hovered over the Acropolis, the Parthenon casting an ominous glow.

In a few minutes, Karapis returned to the bridge with the helmsman and engineer behind him, their faces awash with fear. Tsatsos knew he could stall no longer and heaved a deep sigh.

“Fire up the engines,” he told them. “Tell the crew to prepare to cast off.”

“ I must say, you make a rather dashing Nazi, Herr Andros.” Werner waved his Ceska casually inside the library at the Vasilis estate. “Please sit down.”

Andros, numbed for a moment, slowly moved his hand to his side.

Werner snapped up his arm with the Ceska, a bulbous silencer screwed onto the end of the barrel. “I wouldn’t, Herr Andros. This still makes a little cough, and I would prefer not to attract the Baron’s attention just yet.”

Andros sat down while Werner sifted through the open files, careful to keep his gun trained on him.

“What was it you were looking for? Coastal defenses for Greece, perhaps? Or an ancient Greek text? Ah, I see the Baron is conducting atomic experiments without the Fuhrer’s knowledge. Jewish physics. I thought we were through with all that when the Norwegian Resistance sabotaged the Norsk Hydro heavy-water plant and then Allied bombing finally destroyed it. Hmm, the Reichsfuhrer will be very interested to know that work proceeds on the Flammenschwert.”

“Himmler doesn’t know?”

Werner smiled. “Take your pictures, Herr Andros. Go on, quickly.”

Andros hesitated, puzzled by this instruction, but he proceeded to shoot the film.

Werner said, “Now leave the camera on the desk and return the folders to the safe and shut the door.”

Andros did as he was told and turned around.

“Yes, I think it would be better for my own life if it appeared I caught you and killed you before I had any chance to see the contents of the safe,” said Werner. “But first you must explain to me how you got the combination. I’ve been trying for months.”

“The ring box,” said Andros, carefully dipping his hand into his pocket under Werner’s watchful eye. “It has a listening device. I could hear the tumblers.”

Andros held out his hand, and Werner moved closer, interested. But when Andros opened his fist, nothing was there. Andros quickly swung his leg up and kicked the Ceska out of Werner’s hand. He grabbed the letter opener on the desk and lunged at Werner, driving the blade up through his stomach and into his heart.

Werner’s eyes flashed surprise, and with a wince, he dropped to the floor.

I t was easy for Hans to forget the time as he danced with the lovely Fraulein Vasilis. But the sight of Peter walking into the gardens made him panic, especially as he was heading toward the Baron, who was talking with some Greek and Swedish representatives from the Red Cross.

“You must excuse me, Fraulein,” he said, and gallantly kissed her hand.

“Oh, please, not yet,” Aphrodite protested.

But he insisted, looking over her shoulder at the Baron. “Duty calls.”

The music began to fade as he left the gardens and rounded the house to the library. Hans had managed to avoid a debacle with the Baron by not being seen at the same time as Peter, although he wondered why Peter would simply leave his post.

Still, Hans was rather happy with himself and slowed down as he approached the patio outside the library. After all, he had danced with two Italian countesses, three Wehrmacht communications officers, and finally but not least, that last waltz with the Baron’s mistress, Fraulein Vasilis. All in all, a wonderful evening; those damn dance classes in Hamburg while he was at university really did pay off.

Then he noticed what seemed to be movement in the library. He slowed down and pulled out his Luger as he approached the French doors. One was ajar. With a kick, he burst inside and saw a sentry in the dark. “Who’s there?”

“Hans, look on the floor.”

Hans swung his flashlight to the floor and could see Werner lying on his back in the halo of light. “What happened?”

There was no answer, so he swung the light to the sentry’s face. Instead, he saw Andros with a Ceska pointed at him.

“You!”

Hans opened his mouth, but there was a cough, and the last thing he saw was a flash of light and then total darkness.

A ndros realized he had little time to act, so he quickly repositioned the bodies, placing the Ceska in Werner’s hand and the letter opener in Hans’s hand. He kicked Hans’s Luger off to the side.

This way, Andros hoped, it would look like Werner had come in snooping and was caught by Hans. But Werner pointed his Ceska at Hans and made him drop his Luger and shot him, perhaps. But not before the good SS guard could grab something sharp from the desk and kill Werner. It would have to do.

Now he heard von Berg’s voice outside the door, then the rattle of the key in the lock. The doorknob began to turn. Andros snatched the camera and hurried through the French doors, closing them behind him the instant the door opened and von Berg’s dark figure filled the square of light.

V on Berg looked at the bodies of Werner and Hans on the floor of the library. Franz, who had run in behind him, whipped out his Luger from beneath his white dinner jacket and proceeded to check out the rest of the room, making his way to the French doors and poking around outside on the deserted patio. He was about to blow his whistle to alert the others when von Berg cut him off.

“Close the doors, Franz.”

Franz did as he was told, and von Berg immediately walked over to the safe. He opened it and made a swift but thorough check of its contents. Apparently, nothing had been touched. The lock wasn’t damaged, and nobody knew the combination. Still…