Jon Merz - Raider X

Thatcher found his grip hard and firm. “I can’t thank you enough for rescuing me, sir. A little while longer and it would have been my bloated carcass pulled out of the water.”

Adamson nodded with any mirth. “You were close to death indeed. It’s lucky we got to you when we did. Thankfully I usually post a watch out on the deck and they heard your shouts. How’d you come to be in the water?”

“Shot down,” said Thatcher.

“So you’re a pilot?”

Thatcher shook his head. “Gunner on a Defiant. We were tasked with taking on a squadron of German bombers yesterday.”

Adamson grunted. “I heard you got a fair number of them. Good work.”

“Thank you.”

Adamson frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t turn the ship around and run you back into land, however. We’re well on our way and cannot disrupt the schedule now — it would put us all in jeopardy. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

Thatcher resisted the urge to smile. He had hoped for just such a thing. “I understand completely.”

“We can radio back to England and let them know you’re alive, however.”

Thatcher held up his hand. “It’s perfectly fine if you don’t.”

But Adamson frowned again. “Those are the regulations. You know that. Any armed forces person we rescue has to be called in. Now, what’s your name?”

Thatcher paused. He hadn’t anticipated the need for a fake name. And now the captain was eyeballing him suspiciously. “Thatcher,” he said before he knew what he was doing. They’d taken his clothes after all. There was a likely chance they already knew who he was.

Adamson grunted and walked over to the radio station, nudging the clerk as he did so. “Ring up London, Gordie.”

The radio clerk nodded, “Sir.” And then he began speaking into the microphone. After a minute of this, he removed his headphones and handed them to the Captain. “I’ve got them, sir.”

Adamson took the headphones and put them on. Then he picked up the microphone and started speaking into it. Thatcher watched as he spoke for several minutes. But he could only hear one side of the conversation. His hopes for a quick escape were fading fast he realized. As soon as Adamson gave word that he’d plucked Thatcher out of the water, London would know he was still alive.

Just when things had started looking up, thought Thatcher. Now another wrinkle in his grand plan.

Adamson took the headphones off, snapping Thatcher back to reality. The captain came over and smiled at him. Thatcher steeled himself for what he would say.

“You’re a rather popular man, aren’t you?”

“Sorry?”

“Turns out you’ve got some friends in high places. One of them would like a word with you.”

Thatcher took the headphones and microphone. “Yes?”

“Well, well, well… look who had themselves a lovely little swim,” said a voice that Thatcher recognized as Hewitt’s. “Well-rested this morning, are you?”

“Marvelously so.”

Hewitt chuckled. “You had us worried when your plane went down. Imagine my relief when word came through that someone named Thatcher had been plucked out of the waters.”

Thatcher frowned. The joy in Hewitt’s voice was starting to annoy him. “Yes, I’m sure you were absolutely over the moon with jubilance.”

“Something like that,” said Hewitt. “Listen Thatcher, it wasn’t my idea to have you go off shooting down German bombers. If I’d had my way, you would have continued on your flight to Poole and caught your cruise. But I was outranked on that front and your plane was diverted. It’s lucky you didn’t take any bullets when you were shot down. Small miracles, I suppose.”

“I appreciate your care for my well-being,” said Thatcher. He didn’t know who was listening to his conversation, but he assumed everyone on the bridge was.

“Now listen carefully: Adamson has no idea what your mission is. He only knows that you work for London but he has no idea in what capacity. Keep it that way. We’ve gotten word that the fox has left its den. Do you understand what I mean when I say that?”

Thatcher assumed he meant that Raider X was now our of port and actively looking for hens to hunt. “I believe I do.”

“Good. We’ll try to track it as much as we can, but the fact of the matter is you should consider yourself being actively pursued now. If I were you, I’d take steps to make sure you aren’t caught unaware. Once you clear the coast of France, I’d expect you’ll be in for some company within a short span of time. Plan accordingly. Try not to spend too much time in the water also.”

“Why not?”

“Sharks,” said Hewitt. “Good hunting, Thatcher.”

The headphones went dead and Thatcher frowned again as he removed them and handed them back to Gordie the radio operator. “Thank you.”

He walked toward Adamson who appraised him as he did so. The captain leaned against the bridge and nodded. “Thought you were thinking about giving me a fake name back at the start of our conversation.”

Thatcher smirked. “I was, actually.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say that I’m not one hundred percent thrilled about my employment status.”

Adamson chuckled. “Given you were shot down yesterday, I’m not surprised to hear you say that. But you’ve done a good bit of service for the Crown, so we should be grateful for your work.”

A thought occurred to Thatcher then and he couldn’t shake it. Why had Hewitt told him that Raider X was hunting them now? Hadn’t Thatcher missed the boat he was supposed to be on?

“Something wrong?” asked Adamson.

“This ship,” said Thatcher. “What’s its name?”

“The Archimedes,” said Adamson. “I thought you already knew that.”

Thatcher felt his world reel for a moment before he stabilized. What were the odds that he had been plucked out of the ocean by the very ship he was supposed to have sailed from Poole aboard? It was as if the universe was telling him there was no way he was going to escape his destiny. At least not yet. Thatcher wouldn’t stop trying, however. At least once he managed to get his aunty squared away some place safe. Then Hewitt could go shove his secret missions.

“The Archimedes,” Thatcher said slowly. “Well, lovely. How about that for coincidence?”

Adamson smiled. “I’d put it down to blind luck, myself, but if you want to call it coincidence, then by all means go ahead. We put you in the cabin that had been reserved for you. That’s where we found the clothes you’re wearing. Seems someone sent ahead a few bundles worth of clothes.” He looked out of the bridge at the rolling waves before them. “You must be starving.”

“Indeed,” said Thatcher. “I could eat everything in the pantry.”

Adamson smiled. “Mess deck is two down. Tell the cooks I said to feed you until you can’t move. That should help get you back up to normal in no time. They make a great meal.”

“Thank you,” said Thatcher. He headed for the door.

“Thatcher.”

Thatcher turned. “Sir?”

“Welcome aboard. But don’t cause any fuss. We have other passengers on this ship and I aim to get us all the way to Portugal safely. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly.”

“Good. Enjoy the food.”

Thatcher ducked out of the bridge and headed down two decks where he found the mess and a couple of portly souls busily serving up food to a few of the other passengers. He sat down at an empty table and waited for one of the crew to come by. When he did so, Thatcher told him what Adamson had said and then ordered a full breakfast along with tea and juice. The crew member nodded and left.

Thatcher took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air as he took in the world he’d been thrust into. Here he was, safely ensconced on the ship he was supposed to have boarded yesterday. And yet even now as he sat there waiting to eat, there was a German commerce raider on the prowl looking for the Archimedes.