Michael Wenberg - The Last Eagle

Sieinski stared blankly at the German. “My father? But they will blame me.”

Ritter shrugged. “That is the nature of men and their leaders. You are forced to make difficult decisions. And then held accountable for them. And so, your decision, please.” Ritter began to pull on black leather gloves.

Sieinski, face in his hands, nodded. “I’ll do what you ask. I have your word we will be treated safely?”

“One gentleman to another,” Ritter bowed his head briefly.

“All right, then,” Sieinski surrendered.

“Very well, Captain,” Ritter said. “Good choice. Get dressed. You will stay here until an officer from the Estonian Navy comes to get you.” He crossed the room, opened the door. A German soldier was standing guard. “One of our men from the embassy. For your protection,” Ritter said, smiling.

Sieinski looked up. “And what of Poland?” he asked.

“Poland is no more,” Ritter said simply. He opened the door and left. Halfway down the hall he heard a muffled crash as Sieinski began to vent his rage on the furniture in his suite. “But of course, you already knew that,” he said to himself.

Stefan and two other sailors, their faces covered in masks, laid Jerzy’s body, wrapped in canvas, on the dock, and then backed away.

Removing the boy from the battery compartment had been a grisly task. Despite the masks, the men were almost overwhelmed by the smells from his already putrefying body. Rigor mortis had set in, forcing Stefan to break both of his legs in order to pull him out. At the sound of the first leg cracking like a piece of rotten wood, the eyes of one of the sailors standing by to help had rolled back in his head and he had dropped on the spot.

“What the hell happened to him,” panted one of the men, moving up wind.

Stefan was white-faced. It was hard to think what might have motivated the boy to crawl into the battery compartment on his own. And even if that unlikely event had managed to occur, why hadn’t anyone heard shouts from the trapped boy? And that still left someone to put the hatch cover back in place. Jerzy couldn’t have done it.

Stefan knelt down, pulled aside the canvas. He peered closely at Jerzy’s neck. He was no expert, but there was only one thing that could explain the dark blue bruise across Jerzy’s neck: a blow to throat.

Stefan stood, covered Jerzy’s face. “I need to go to the embassy,” he said. “Make sure he is not disturbed.”

Stefan reentered the Eagle . He was still barefoot, wearing wet shorts and a T-shirt. He slipped into his cubicle and dressed quickly, stomping into his salt-stained boots as a last act. Done. First the embassy. He would use them to contact Naval Headquarters, and then make arrangements for someone to take charge of his body. At the very least, it needed to be put on ice somewhere. And then to track down Hans and ask him a few questions.

Stefan climbed up the conning tower onto the bridge. It took a moment to digest the scene before him. A gray military truck was idling next to the Eagle . A dozen or more Estonian Navy sailors, armed with submachine guns, were standing along the pier. On the other side of the Eagle , a motorboat was nuzzling against the Eagle’s flank like a hungry cub. One of the Eagle’s crewmen was sitting on the deck, hand to his face, a beard of blood coloring his chin. Three men dog paddled in the water, screaming profanities, another clung precariously to the side of the Eagle , ducking every time a length of chain whizzed above his head. In control at the other end of the chain was the young sailor, Henryk, his face red with anger. He was wielding the chain like a cowboy, Stefan thought in the brief instant before he realized he needed to end it before someone else was seriously hurt. “Stand down,” he roared, his voice filling the midday air. High above, the sun was obscured by a thick layer of clouds. Except for the sounds of gulls, all was quiet, each person frozen in a moment of time, only Stefan seemingly outside of it, watching it all like a distant observer.

Henryk looked up, questioning, breaking the spell. Stefan nodded. He waved to the men on the bow, who reluctantly lowered their fists.

“You are the executive officer?”

Stefan looked over the lip of the bridge.

Finally, it was all beginning to make sense. He wasn’t sure how, but it was all connected, he was sure of it now. The captain’s insistence that they port here. The mechanical problems. The Dutch engineers. The party. Even Jerzy’s death. All of it. “Get off my ship,” Stefan said evenly.

The Estonian naval officer shifted his weight uncomfortably and replied in heavily accented Polish. “I’m sorry I can’t do that. It is unfortunate we could not met under better circumstances.” From the look on his face, it was clear that he would have preferred shoveling chicken manure to this duty.

Stefan didn’t reply. He continued to stare down at the man, unmoved.

“My name is Commander Jaak Talli,” the officers said. “By order of the Estonian government and under direction of the admiral of the Estonian Navy and the port authorities of the city of Tallinn, I am officially notifying you of the internment of your vessel.” He pulled a document out of his pocket, slapped it onto the side of the Eagle’s conning tower. “And now I must escort you and your men to safe keeping.”

Stefan vaulted over the edge of the conning tower, slid down the ladder. He stood in front of the officer. “By what right do you do this?” he said.

The captain shrugged, barely able to meet Stefan’s gaze. “I have my duty,” he said. He must have realized how inadequate that sounded. He glanced over each shoulder. “This is unpleasant, I know. I asked the same question. I was told that Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania have agreed that if any submarine or aircraft involved in the war enters the territorial waters or airspace of any country, it will be immediately interned. It is just this war, you know…”

“And when was the agreement struck?” Stefan asked sarcastically. “This morning?

The captain looked stricken, but he kept quiet.

Stefan sighed. It was over for them, he realized. The war. Everything. There was nothing more he could do. “It won’t do any good, you know,” he said quietly. “After they devour Poland, they will come after you.”

“And we will fight,” was the soft reply.

Stefan gathered himself, glancing around just to make sure that there was no other possibility. But there was none. He had been a fool. No sense continuing the charade. “I don’t want any of my men hurt,” Stefan croaked.

“You have my personal promise,” Talli said. He held out his hand.

“And I will hold you to it,” Stefan said, keeping his hands at his side.

Talli gave him a mournful look, dropped his hand, turned and marched down the gangplank. Stefan patted the side of the Eagle’s ironclad conning tower, and then followed him. Henryk and the rest of the men formed up behind Stefan.

Stefan was the last one to climb into the back of the truck. He lingered for a moment, breathing heavily. Across the water, he saw the German flag shoot back up the freighter’s mast and then begin to ripple in the gray light. At the same time, one of the Estonians ripped the Polish flag from Eagle’s bow. He crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the water like it was nothing more than a bag of garbage.

“Take care of my man,” Stefan said bleakly, gesturing toward the canvas wrapped body of Jerzy. It wasn’t a request.

“But of course,” Talli said quickly. He wrinkled his nose as the swirling breeze brought the stench of decay to his nose. “There’s a butcher with a large cooler a few blocks from here…”