Michael Wenberg - The Last Eagle

Ritter understood precisely. The appropriate amount of money needed to be deposited into Kalm’s Swiss bank account. When he received news of the completed transaction, the submarine would be taken to a remote location, and then turned over to a German crew, who were already waiting on a German freighter, anchored in the harbor. “As you will, Admiral.”

The Eagle was tied up to a deserted pier in Tallinn’s inner harbor. A few Estonian sailors carrying rifles guarded approaches to the vessel, but their weapons remained slung over their shoulders, and the affable crew of the Eagle had already made friends with them, trading cigarettes for girlie magazines, sweets and, no doubt, a bottle of vodka or two.

Nearby, a worn German freighter rode silently at anchor. At first, its presence had caused no little consternation, the gun crews swinging their barrels to track its shape as the Eagle motored by. But when no threat materialized, the sailors on deck began jeering like soccer fans at the scattered figures who appeared on the freighter’s deck to watch the passing submarine. Strangely, though, the Germans did not reply in kind. They simply stood at the rail, silently staring. “That’s odd,” Squeaky said, raising a hand to give them a universally recognized gesture. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist,” he apologized in response to Stefan’s glance.

As the Eagle came abreast of the ship, the German flag was pulled down from the mast. “Why are they doing that?” Squeaky said.

“Afraid they’ll piss us off,” one of the gunners answered, bringing smiles to the faces of the bridge crew.

Stefan jogged past the Estonian sailors without drawing a challenge and hustled up the gangplank. He ignored Squeaky’s hail from the bridge, ran over to the aft access hatch and dropped into the engine compartment. He grabbed the first sailor he met. “Those Dutch engineers. Where are they?”

“Gone,” said the young seaman.

“They left an hour ago,” Chief K said, stepping out from behind one of the diesels, grinning enthusiastically. “Goddamn those boys were efficient. I’d like to thank them myself. That new pump arrived pronto, also a spare. Plus some extra gaskets, a couple of new springs for the valves.”

“What do you mean?” Stefan.

Chief K gave Stefan a puzzled look. “You know, all that equipment we needed. They took care of it just like they said while you were gone. In fact, I’ll be finished with the pumps in a few hours. We can get out of port any time you want after that.”

Stefan exhaled loudly to hide his confusion.

“What the hell is wrong?” Squeaky asked, joining them in the aft compartment.

“Nothing …. I guess,” Stefan said with bemusement. “Something spooked me. That’s all. Seeing ghosts. It was nothing, nothing at all…. lack of sleep. Did they say where they went?”

Chief K shook his head. “Nope. Probably some fancy hotel. And I owe them beers, too.” He dug at his ear with a dirty thumb.

“What about the Yanks?”

“Gone, too,” Squeaky said, eyeing Stefan closely. “Kate said something about needing a hot bath in the worst possible way. She said they’d drop by later on.”

Kate in a bathtub. It wasn’t hard for Stefan to imagine that particular vision of heaven, and from the look on the faces of Chief K and Squeaky, it wasn’t hard for them either. Stefan felt a hot flush of fatigue wash over him. He closed his eyes, let images of Kate drift into the blackness. Right at the moment, even a few hours of uninterrupted sleep sounded heavenly. “Need me for anything?” he asked hoarsely.

Squeaky and the chief looked at each other and then shook their heads.

“With our guests gone, I guess that means I get my bunk bank,” Stefan said “That’s where I’ll be. Don’t bother me unless it is something important like, say, the second coming of Christ himself.”

“One thing before you go,” Squeaky said. He unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to Stefan. “We’ve been invited to a party. The entire boat. Food, drink, music….”

“Girls?” Chief K’s eyes were glowing.

“Probably,” Stefan said with a tired chuckle, scanning the invitation. The party was sponsored by the Polish-Estonian Friendship Society. Who the hell were they? He handed the paper back to Squeaky.

“What should I tell the men?” Squeaky asked.

“Tell them good fortune has decided to smile upon them.” Stefan hid a yawn with the back of his hand. “Leave a skeleton crew of eight behind. Poor bastards. I don’t care how you pick them.”

“What about the officers? Who should I leave in charge?”

Stefan pointed a thumb at his own chest. “Me.”

Squeaky began to protest, but Stefan cut him off. “You know how much I hate parties. Besides, I have work to do here on the Eagle .” Stefan turned, and headed down the passageway. He paused. “Oh, one other thing. Come get me if the captain happens to return.”

“Christ or the captain,” Squeaky said. “Got it. By the way, where is he?”

Stefan had a pretty good idea where the captain had disappeared after the meeting with Admiral Kalm. He didn’t feel like sharing his suspicions. “Hell if I know,” he said.

Stefan watched the two military trucks pull up to the pier precisely at 1800, most of the crew, wearing their dress uniforms, were already milling around on the wharf beside the boat. Earlier, they had rigged up a portable coldwater shower on the deck of the submarine. As a result, they all looked pink-faced and freshly scrubbed.

“Have a good time, boys,” Stefan said to Eryk and Squeaky, who were standing impatiently on the deck below the conning tower. Keep them out of jail.”

The two officers waved, and dashed down the gangplank, joining the men already crowding into the back of the trucks. A moment later, the trucks pulled away, men leaning out the back, singing and shouting.

Stefan gave a final wave, eyeing the unfortunate eight below who were sullenly beginning to take apart the portable shower. It didn’t help their moods any that he had chosen to stay behind.

“Hold there,” Stefan said, a sudden thought popping into his mind. “There’s one more person that needs to use that.”

He disappeared from the bridge, then climbed out of the forward hatch a minute later, the sour expressions on all of their faces changing to good natured hoots and hollers as he strode white-legged and barefoot across the deck, wearing only shorts and a T-shirt, towel slung over his shoulder, hat cocked on his head. Even the Estonian guards on the wharf joined in the laughter.

Stefan waved to them all like a movie star. Amazing what a few hours sleep could do to a person’s mood, the thought. That and the thought of finally being rid of the captain made him feel downright giddy. “Sorry you had to stay behind, men. But I asked Lieutenant Pertek to have some fresh food and drink sent down to the boat for later on.”

“Music and girls?” asked one of the sailors hopefully.

“Don’t push your luck,” Stefan growled. He stepped under the shower head, stripped off his shirt, turned on the water, and began singing loudly, the words to the Polish folk song echoing across the pier. The water was cold, but Stefan didn’t mind. He took extra time, soaping twice, and then let the chilly spray beat down on his head, momentarily driving away the ghosts and frustrations.

When he ducked his head out from beneath his towel, there she was, standing on the pier next to Eagle , arms crossed, smiling. In the distance, Reggie was leaning up against a car. He waved a greeting.

“I’d offer you a shower, too,” Stefan said, his face reddening as he hurriedly pulled on his T-shirt, “but it doesn’t look like you need one.”