Thomas Greanias - The 34th Degree

The radio operator climbed up the ladder from the control room and handed Safire a signal. “We just picked up a call from Sinon, sir.”

“That’s Andros!” Erin cried. “He’s alive!”

Safire read the signal. “Sinon says Flammenschwert has his fire and has run off with Nausicaa.”

“My God!” said Prestwick. “That means von Berg has escaped on his submarine and has an atomic bomb on board.”

Safire nodded. “I’ll see if we can break her back by air.” He spoke into the piping to the control room, paused to listen, and turned to Prestwick with a grim expression. “Our flyboys are long gone, hightailing it back to North Africa. Looks like the Luftwaffe is giving them a good chase.”

“Then it’s up to us,” said Erin. “How soon until we catch von Berg, Captain?”

“If his U-boat stays surfaced, she can do nineteen knots on her diesels,” Safire explained. “Best we can do submerged is seven knots on our electric motor, eight if we push her.”

“Then surface, for God’s sake!” said Prestwick.

Safire put his eyes to the scope and shook his head. “Not in the daylight, sir, not with enemy warships on the surface and fighters in the skies.”

The prospect of von Berg getting away alarmed Erin. If the Baron managed to disappear beneath the Mediterranean, they’d never find him. “If von Berg did submerge,” she asked Safire, “how long could he stay underwater before surfacing?”

“Eight months,” Safire replied, still looking through the periscope. “And he’d have enough fuel for almost seventeen thousand miles.”

Prestwick gasped. “That means von Berg could conceivably cross the Atlantic for New York City, park his submarine somewhere in the Hudson, and blow the city off the face of the planet. Captain, we can’t take a chance and let him submerge.”

“Sir?” asked Safire.

“That submarine must not reach open waters,” said Prestwick. “We must sink her at whatever the cost.”

“Sink her?” cried Erin. “But what about Chris?”

“Whatever the cost, Captain Whyte,” Prestwick repeated.

“You bastard.”

Safire raised his hand to silence them. “I see her now, pulling away from the island.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” demanded Prestwick, loosening his tie.

Erin turned to Safire. “Don’t do it,” she said.

“We can stop the Nausicaa without sinking her.”

“We can’t afford to lose the element of surprise,” said Prestwick. “You’ll sink her or I’ll have you stripped of your command.”

Safire looked at Erin helplessly and shook his head at Prestwick. He spoke into the intercom to address the crew. “Action stations. Torpedo crews, prepare for attack.”

Von Berg was with Aphrodite in his compartment when he sensed the Nausicaa ’s engines had stopped. Suddenly, the Klaxon sounded, and Myers’s voice came over the public-address system.

“All hands, abandon ship. All hands, abandon ship.”

Von Berg frowned and went to his intercom. “Myers, what’s happened? What’s going on?”

The voice of Chris Andros came through loud and clear. “It’s over, von Berg.”

Von Berg stood in shock. Andros alive? he thought. But how? No human could have survived the cell blocks. But the fact was, either Andros was alive, or the voices of madness finally had defeated him.

Aphrodite, who had also heard Andros’s voice, was unable to conceal her joy and pride. “You see, Ludwig, I told you,” she said with newfound defiance. “He’s come back for me and you. What are you going to do now?”

He glared at her. “I’ll be back shortly,” he said, and stepped out of the compartment.

The Klaxon was blaring and emergency lights flashing as he crossed the fore-and-aft passageway to the radio room. The radio technician, Voigt, was gone. Von Berg grabbed the microphone and adjusted the frequency selector. He started the distress call procedures. Then he turned to the radio room’s phonograph and put the needle on a record. The music of Wagner’s “Death March” flooded all the compartments.

Back in the captain’s quarters, the sound of that macabre music crept up Aphrodite’s flesh as she struggled in her bunk. “What are you doing?” she demanded when von Berg returned.

There was a wild look in his eyes, and he whipped out a Luger and put it to her head. She was sure she was about to die. Instead, he untied her and pulled her out into the fore-and-aft passageway, the Luger’s cold barrel at her temple.

“Don’t worry, Aphrodite,” he told her as he pushed her through the galley and toward the forward torpedo room. “I won’t let him hurt you. I won’t let anybody hurt you.”

He dragged her into the officers’ quarters, the compartment just before the forward torpedo room. She squirmed within his arms, but like steel cords, they tightened around her. She tried to scream, but von Berg clapped his hand over her mouth.

“Come and get me now, Andros,” he said softly. “I’m waiting.”

Topside on the Nausicaa ’s bridge, Deker and his captive Myers watched as the crew emerged from their escape hatches and cast off in dinghies. There was no sign of von Berg or Aphrodite.

Myers said, “You’re wasting your time, Andros. Von Berg won’t come up here. You’ll have to go after him.”

Deker pressed the Schmeisser harder against Myers’s back. “You go join the others now, while you still have a chance. Remember, I can shoot you all from up here at any time I choose.”

Reluctantly, Myers descended the ladder outside the conning tower to the deck and joined the last dinghy before it cast off.

Deker watched the tide take care of the rest, pulling the dinghies toward shore. Satisfied that they were far enough away, he climbed down the hatch and dropped into the control room.

Blue lights flashed eerily, and music filled the empty compartment. Deker scanned the unmanned banks of instruments to his port and starboard sides. Behind him clacked the abandoned engine room. He glanced about to make sure everything was clear and stepped into the fore-and-aft passageway.

When he reached the captain’s quarters, he tore open the green curtain. The oak-paneled compartment was empty, but the Baron made his eerie presence felt through the crackling intercom.

“Welcome aboard, Herr Andros,” said von Berg’s voice. “Are you looking for someone in particular?”

Deker stepped outside into the cramped fore-and-aft passageway, Schmeisser at the ready. He briskly made his way along the corridor toward the galley. A creeping claustrophobia came over him as the bulkhead seemed to close in. Straight ahead was the hatch leading to the forward torpedo room.

At the end of the passageway, Aphrodite appeared.

“Aphrodite!” he called.

“No, Christos!”

Deker started toward her when he saw the barrel of a Luger at her head; then von Berg stepped into view.

“Stay right where you are, Herr Andros.” Von Berg put the semiautomatic next to Aphrodite’s ear. “Now, drop that Schmeisser or she gets it in the head.”

Deker hesitated, and von Berg yanked Aphrodite’s long black hair until she cried out in pain.

“Now or never, Herr Andros.”

Deker lowered the Schmeisser and stepped forward.

“I said drop it!” von Berg called.

Deker stood still and dropped the submachine gun. It fell to the metal floor with a dull clank that echoed through the fore-and-aft passageway.

“Step into the shaft of light where I can see you.”

Deker stepped beneath the galley’s overhead hatch, glimpsing the circle of daylight overhead.

“Very good,” said von Berg, coming toward him.