Daniel Silva - The Unlikely Spy

The prow dug deeply into the sea, like a shovel into dirt, and for a few seconds the entire foredeck was swamped. But somehow the boat climbed out of the trough and scaled the next peak. At the top of the next roller, a squall of windblown rain obscured all view.

The boat fell, then rose again. Then, as the Camilla teetered atop a mountain of seawater, Hurst Neumann spotted the unmistakable silhouette of a German U-boat.

It was Peter Jordan, on the pitching aft deck of the Rebecca, who spotted the U-boat first. Lockwood saw it a few seconds later and then spotted the running lights of the Camilla, about four hundred yards off the U-boat's starboard side and closing quickly. Lockwood brought the Rebecca hard to port, set it on a collision course with the Camilla, and picked up the handset to raise Alfred Vicary.

Vicary snatched up the receiver of the open phone line to the Submarine Tracking Room.

"Commander Braithwaite, are you there?"

"Yes. I'm here, and I could hear the entire thing over the line."

"Well?"

"I'm afraid we've got a serious problem. Corvette 745 is a mile due south of the U-boat's position. I've radioed the captain and he's making for the scene now. But if the Camilla is really only four hundred yards away from the submarine, they're going to get there first."

"Dammit!"

"You do have one other asset, Mr. Vicary-the Rebecca. I suggest you use it. Your men have got to do something to slow that boat down until the corvette can intervene."

Vicary set down the telephone and picked up the handset of the radio.

"Superintendent Lockwood, this is Grimsby, over."

"Lockwood here, over."

"Superintendent, listen carefully. Help is on the way, but in the meantime I want you to ram that fishing boat."

All of them heard it-Lockwood, Harry, Roach, and Jordan-for they were all pressed around the cabin, sheltering from the weather.

Lockwood, shouting above the wind and the roar of the Rebecca 's engines, said, "Is he out of his mind?"

"No," Harry said, "just desperate. Can you get there in time?"

"Sure-but we'll be staring right down the barrels of that U-boat's deck guns."

They all looked at one another, saying nothing. Finally, Lockwood said, "There are life jackets in that locker behind you. And bring out the rifles. I have a feeling we may need them."

Lockwood looked back at the sea and found the Camilla. He made a minor course correction and opened the throttle as far as it would go.

Max Hoffman, standing on the bridge of U-509 , spotted the Rebecca approaching fast.

"We've got company, Number One. Civilian craft, three or four men on board."

"I see them, Herr Kaleu."

"Judging from their speed and heading, I'd say they're the opposition."

"They appear to be unarmed, Herr Kaleu."

"Yes. Give them a warning shot from the foredeck gun. Shoot across their bow. I don't want needless bloodshed. If they persist, fire directly on the craft. But at the waterline, Number One, not the cabin."

"Yes, Herr Kaleu," the first officer snapped. Hoffman heard shouted orders, and within thirty seconds the first shot from U-509 's forward boots-kanone deck gun was arching across the prow of the Rebecca.

Though U-boats rarely engaged in surface artillery battles, the 10.5-centimeter shell of the forward deck gun was capable of inflicting lethal damage, even on large vessels. The first shot sailed well off the Rebecca 's prow. The second, fired ten seconds later, came much closer.

Lockwood turned to Harry and shouted, "I'd say that's the last warning we get. The next one is going to blow us right out of the water. It's your call, but we're no help to anyone if we're dead."

Harry shouted, "Turn away!"

Lockwood turned the Rebecca hard to port and circled around. Harry looked back toward the U-boat. The Camilla was two hundred yards away and closing, and there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it. He thought, Goddammit! Where's that corvette?

Then he picked up the handset and told Vicary there was nothing they could do to stop them.

Jenny heard the boom of the U-boat's deck gun and saw the shell flash along the waterline toward a second boat. She thought, Thank God! I'm not alone after all. But the U-boat fired again, and a few seconds later she saw the little boat turn away and her spirits sank.

Then she steeled herself and thought, They're German agents. They've killed my father and six other people tonight and they're about to get away with it. I have to do something to stop them.

But what could she do? She was alone, and her hands and feet were tied. She considered trying to free herself, sneak up on deck, and hit them with something. But if they saw her they wouldn't hesitate to kill her. Perhaps she could start a fire, but then she would be trapped with the smoke and the flames and she would be the only one to die…

Think, Jenny! Think!

It was hard to think with the constant roar of the boat's motor. It was driving her crazy.

And then she thought, Yes, that's it!

If she could somehow disable the engine-even just for a moment-it might help. If there was one boat chasing them, there might be others-perhaps bigger boats that could shoot back at the German submarine.

The engine sounded as if it was just below her, the noise was so loud. She struggled to her feet and pushed away the coiled lines and tarpaulins she had been sitting on. And there it was-a door, built into the floor of the hold. She managed to open it and was immediately overwhelmed by the thunderous noise and heat of the Camilla 's engine.

She looked at it. Jenny knew nothing of engines. Once, Sean tried to explain to her the repairs he was making on his rattletrap old van. There was always something going wrong with the blessed thing, but what was it then? Something to do with the fuel lines and the fuel pump. Surely this engine was different from the engine in Sean's van. It was a diesel engine, for one thing; Sean's van ran on petrol. But she knew one thing: no matter what kind of engine it was, it needed fuel to run. Cut the fuel supply and it would die.

But how? She looked closely at the motor. Several black metal lines ran across the top and converged at a single point on the side of the motor. Could those be the fuel lines? Was the point where they met the fuel pump?

She looked around. She needed tools. Sailors always carry tools with them. After all, what happens if the engine breaks down at sea? She spotted a metal toolbox at the end of the cabin and crawled forward. She looked out the porthole. The U-boat filled her field of vision. They were very close now. She saw the other boat. It had moved off. She opened the box and found it filled with greasy, filthy tools.

She removed two, a pair of bladed pliers and a large hammer.

She took the pliers in her hands, turned the nose toward her wrists, and started hacking through the rope. It took about a minute to free her hands. Then she used the pliers to cut away the rope around her ankles.

She crawled back to the motor.

She put the pliers on the floor and hid them beneath a coiled line. Then she reached down, picked up the hammer, and smashed the first of the fuel lines. It severed, leaking diesel. Quickly, she brought down the hammer several more times until the last fuel line was ruptured.

The engine died.

With the noise gone, Jenny could finally hear the roar of the sea and the wind. She closed the door over the crippled engine and sat down. The hammer was next to her right hand.

She knew that Neumann or the woman would come down in a matter of seconds to investigate. And when they did they would realize that Jenny had sabotaged the motor.