Thomas Greanias - The 34th Degree

“We’re going in,” MacDonald announced. “Radio the others. This is it. The mother lode.”

Rainey flicked the button on his microphone and relayed the order to the rest of the crew and squadron. “One shot, boys, and one shot only,” he reminded them. “We’ve got to hit those bunkers halfway up the hill. Follow our lead.”

MacDonald smiled like a maniac as he goosed the throttle just enough to maintain altitude and banked tightly toward the Achillion. “This is for you, Carol and Sarah,” he said softly.

Rainey looked at him in disbelief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “The wrong touch of the controls, the tiniest deviation from course, could send us smashing into the sea or the side of that hill. This is a fool’s run!”

“And the fools are dead ahead,” said MacDonald, looking straight at the palace coming up fast into their windshield. “Bombs away!”

It was just after six in the morning, and Commandant Buzzini, having been rudely awakened by General von Berg’s call ordering him to have his plane ready at the airstrip, was sipping his usual espresso in his office when he heard the high-pitched engines of airplanes in the sky outside. He moved to the window and saw a wave of American B-24s thundering in from the sea, RAF insignias on their wings.

“Mother of God!” he cried, dropping the cup. “The Allied invasion. It has begun!”

He was reaching for his phone when Sergeant Racini came running in from the adjacent office. “Commandant, what is happening?”

“Can’t you see for yourself, Sergeant? We’re under attack!”

Racini went to the window, eyes wide when he turned. “What are your orders, Commandant?”

“Scramble whatever fighters we have before we lose our airstrip, and mobilize our ground and naval forces to prepare for an Allied amphibious assault,” Buzzini replied, waving his hands wildly. “Put me through to Rome and Berlin immediately. We must warn them that the Allies are invading!”

Von Berg was in his study, gathering his papers, when the first payload hit the hillside, rocking the palace and sending the portrait of King Ludwig II crashing to the floor. Then Franz burst in and cried, “The Allies, sir! They’re attacking!”

Von Berg ran to the window in alarm. The gigantic belly of a B-24 bomber streaked by as it came up the hillside, barely clearing the palace. A second explosion followed, shattering the window and sending von Berg diving for cover.

“Herr Oberstgruppenfuhrer!” Franz ran over to help von Berg up from the floor. “Are you all right?”

Von Berg brushed the splinters of glass from his uniform and noticed blood on his silk handkerchief. “Just a few scratches, Franz.”

“But how did they find us?”

“Andros, of course.”

“What do we do now?”

Von Berg turned to the blown-out window. The curtains were twisting in the breeze coming through the gaping hole. He could hear the island’s air raid sirens blaring and the rumble of his antiaircraft batteries shooting fire into the skies outside.

“We’re obviously not flying out of here,” von Berg said. “Our only way out is aboard the Nausicaa. Let’s get down to the loading bay before we find ourselves surrounded by enemy paratroopers.”

They opened the bookcase and hurried into the secret elevator and began their harrowing descent into the quaking mountain. At the bottom of the shaft, the doors parted to reveal the Nausicaa in her cave, the throbbing diesel engines screaming to leave.

The submarine’s crew was lined up on deck, loading the Flammenschwert device with the help of a hydraulic hoist. Myers was on the bridge, anxious to leave as he watched the atomic bomb sink below deck through the forward torpedo-loading hatch. Then he saw von Berg. “General.”

“How are we doing, Kapitanleutnant?” Von Berg climbed up the conning tower and stood next to him.

“Once the bomb is chained and secured, we can move out,” Myers replied. “About two more minutes.”

Von Berg turned to Franz. “I’m going below to check on Aphrodite. You stay here. I want you to man the guns, because once we emerge from the tunnel, we’re easy prey for aircraft until we dive. And stop anybody who wants to ride with us out of here. We can’t afford the excess weight.”

Franz nodded quickly and stepped behind the 37mm gun on the after-extension of the small deck behind the conning tower. Then he trained it on the loading dock as von Berg climbed down the Nausicaa ’s hatch.

Aphrodite was inside the Nausicaa ’s oak-paneled captain’s quarters, strapped to Myers’s bunk. She was aware of the tremendous explosions outside but could do nothing to free herself. Staring at the bulkhead, she felt as though she were lying in a coffin and somebody was shutting the door on her. Then the cabin’s green curtain was torn aside, and in stepped the Baron.

“Troubles, Ludwig?” she mocked.

“I hope I won’t have to gag you as well, my sweet.” He seemed remarkably calm as he took a cup and saucer from the cupboard and helped himself to some of the captain’s coffee. “It won’t be long, Aphrodite. Soon this whole nightmare of a war will be over, and we can get on with our lives.” His cup and saucer clattered with the shock of the next explosion.

“It’s the end of you, Ludwig,” Aphrodite insisted. “Christos has seen to it.”

“Andros has seen nothing yet.” Von Berg set the cup and saucer in the sink and spoke into the captain’s intercom. “Myers. How are we doing?”

“ Flammenschwert is loaded aboard, sir,” came the response. “We’re ready when you are.”

Von Berg nodded. “Flood the cells. We’re moving out.”

Deker was in his cell when the walls started to shake and the sentries outside the door shouted. The shaking was followed by the unmistakable explosion of antiaircraft fire from above. Not waiting to be buried alive, the sentries escaped down the corridor, leaving Deker on his own as blocks of stone started to fall from the ceiling.

He took cover in a dark corner of the cell, crouching into a small ball and throwing his arms over his head for protection. At least the Allies had made good use of the intelligence he had provided them, he thought. Not that it mattered if von Berg managed to escape with Aphrodite and the atomic bomb.

From the next cell came the screams of another prisoner. “You cannot leave me!” the man cried in German. “I am Dr. Xaptz, personal counselor to the Fuhrer! Don’t leave me here to die!”

Deker heard a key rattling inside the lock of his own cell door. He lowered his arms and looked up. The iron gate scraped open, and in stepped an old man wearing a sentry’s uniform. Quietly, he closed the door and turned around, two ramlike eyes shining out of a wizened face. To Deker, it felt like the devil himself had come from hell to fetch him, and he shrank back into the shadows.

“I know you,” Deker said in a trembling voice. “I’ve seen your face somewhere before.”

“Come,” said the old man in Greek. “We must hurry. The Baron is escaping in his submarine. I saw him on my way in.”

It occurred to Deker where he had seen that face-in a mirror at the Monastery of the Taborian Light in Meteora. He was very confused. That couldn’t be.

Deker exclaimed, “You’re Hadji Azrael!”

“My name is Philip.”

Deker then remembered the destruction of the Monastery of the Taborian Light. “You died in the fire.”

“Strange. That’s what Aphrodite told me about you, Christos.”

“Aphrodite?” Deker cried out. “We’ve got-” He broke off at the sound of an ominous rumble down the tunnel. Through the window slot in the door, he saw the sentries who had disappeared now running toward the cell, chased by a wall of water. “Get back!” he shouted.