Dangerous Allies (12 page)

H
ead high, determination firmly in place, Katia left all weakness in the room behind her and walked past the double doors leading onto the balcony. At the same moment, the big round sun dipped below the flat line of the horizon.

Utter darkness would soon descend over the city.

“Remember to keep your voice down,” Reiter said.

She managed a tense nod in response.

Leaning back against the rail, he stretched his long legs out in front of him. The gesture made him look like he had endless time on his hands.

They both knew better.

“What was so important that it couldn’t wait until later?”

Now that the time had come, she couldn’t find the words. She hadn’t expected her dignity to be so difficult to swallow. Glancing past him, she took a moment to gather her thoughts. Katarina Kerensky was not used to making mistakes. Admitting to them came hard. “Katarina?”

Sighing, she shifted her gaze back to Reiter’s. In a rush of whispered words, she told him everything, concluding with the exact angle of the misplaced chair.

He said nothing. Nor did he move. But she could see him pulling back from her, distancing himself mentally.

“Well?” she prompted.

Five long seconds ticked by, and still, he kept silent.

She dug her nails into her palms. “Do you have nothing to say?”

When he continued looking at her, completely unresponsive, with that unreadable glint in his gaze, she had to resist the urge to reach out and shake him. But then…

Realization dawned. “You knew,” she said. “You already knew.”

“Not precisely. But from your conduct in the car this morning, I sensed something had occurred.”

Hot tears of frustration stung in her eyes. All this time, he’d suspected something had gone awry and yet he hadn’t said a word.

Was he that much of a gentleman? Or that much of a fiend? “I’m rendered speechless.”

His lids drooped over his eyes. “Indeed.”

She wanted to hate him for his casual behavior, but instead she found herself admiring him for his ability to remain calm in spite of his obvious anger.

He tried to push past her, but Katia grabbed his arm before he could leave the balcony. He looked down at her hand. She quickly released him.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“We?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to put things right.”

“You’ve done enough. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He did not leave the balcony right away. Instead, he leaned against the doorjamb and gave her an impatient lift of a single eyebrow.

He was dismissing her.

Understandable, given the circumstances. If their roles were reversed, she’d react the same way. The wise response on her part would be to trust this British spy to finish the job on his own.

But could she trust him? This man she’d only met the night before?

The obvious answer was
no.

Time was running out, not only for this mission but for everyone, including the British. England had suffered unprecedented losses from the Nazi secret weapon they were investigating, half of which were merchant ships carrying much needed supplies. If the British Isles were cut off from the rest of the world, England would fall to Germany. And if England fell, who would rise up to stop Hitler?

Katia could not put her trust in anyone other than herself. With a man like Hitler at the helm of Germany, the stakes were too high. “We don’t know the mission has been compromised,” she whispered.

“It doesn’t matter. The moment you left that chair out of place was the moment you became a liability.”

“Not necessarily. I can find out the extent of the damage tomorrow night, at my mother’s party when the admiral arrives.”

His jaw tightened. Clearly, he was having a hard time holding on to his patience. “We can’t wait that long. Our options are dwindling. But if I leave now I may still be able to salvage this mess.”

“Wherever you’re going, take me with you.” Desperation made her voice come out shrill.

“Katarina.” He pushed forward and reached for her hand. “My darling.” The endearment, along with compassion in his eyes, cut past her well-laid defenses.

She placed her palm against his.

“Why is this so important to you? Tell me what is driving your resolve. Perhaps I can help.”

She trembled at the implication of his words. Did he know what he asked of her? The terrible burden he would take on his shoulders if she answered him truthfully?

Pressing his lips into a grim line, Reiter tugged her against his chest. He held her tightly in his arms, too tightly, as though he feared she would pull away at any moment.

In truth, he had nothing to worry about. She relaxed in his embrace. If only for this one instant, she wanted to rest in this man’s strength. He felt real and solid and trustworthy.

“Have faith in me,” he whispered into her hair. “Trust me with your secret.”

She heard his sincerity. And in that moment, she knew that she could trust him. She
would
trust him. “I have a Jewish ancestor, a maternal grandparent.”

Her words were barely audible but she knew he’d heard her because his already tight hold squeezed even more.

She struggled to free herself.

He loosened his embrace and stepped back first. His blue eyes stared at her for a long moment, giving her a glimpse into their unguarded depths. She saw pain. Raw pain.

“Does Schmidt know?”

“
No.
And he can never find out. No one can find out.” She grasped his arm. “My mother must not be put in danger.”

“I understand.”

He took her hand, placed a soft kiss on her palm, and then stepped back again. Although he’d created physical distance, she detected no other withdrawal in him. In fact, with his stiff shoulders and strained gaze, he looked as tortured as she felt.

“Don’t look at me that way,” she whispered.

He cupped her cheek with his palm, the rough calluses warm against her skin. “You are very brave, Katarina.”

She leaned into his hand. “I am no such thing. I…I’m frightened all the time.”

“Then why?” He lowered his hand slowly. “Why do you stay in Germany? Why—” He cut off his own words. “Your mother.”

“Yes.”

He knew everything now.

All the subterfuge between them was gone. There was only honesty left. And truth. The kind of purity of emotion she hadn’t known since her childhood.

Unfortunately, she was not a child anymore. She lived in a dangerous world of mean-spirited men with evil
agendas. And she’d just laid her secret before a man she’d met only a day ago.

Panic tried to claw to the surface at the realization. Katia shoved the emotion back with a hard swallow. And then she did something she hadn’t done since she was nine years old. She prayed.

Heavenly Father, please let this man be worthy of my trust.

What if God still ignored her? What if she’d said the prayer too late?

She knew so little about this man. Nothing, really. Nothing, except the fact that he was a dangerous spy with his own set of personal agendas.

And she’d just admitted the one thing that could get her and her mother killed.

What had she done?

She’d become weak. He’d made her weak with his sincerity and answering pain.

She was vulnerable now, completely at his mercy. If he proved false, who would rescue her? God? The Lord hadn’t saved her father. Why would He save her now?

Her hand flew to her throat. She’d made a terrible blunder with her confession. What if—

“No, Katarina. Don’t fear me.” He pulled her into his arms once again. “I will never hurt you. Never.”

She believed him.

Lord, Lord, why bring this man to me now? When there is still so much work to be done in Germany, so many lives to save and so little time left?

Pressed against him, she could feel his heart beating as hard as her own.

“We have much to discuss,” Reiter said. “But I cannot put off my…errand any longer.”

“Please, take me with you.” She couldn’t bear to do nothing, not when she’d been the one to compromise the mission.

“It’s too dangerous.” He released a long breath of air. “Let me take you home. I’ll come for you once I’ve completed my task and we’ll talk. Really talk.”

The look he gave her was full of promises. He was no longer the jaded spy or hardened skeptic she’d met the night before. He was a man smitten with her, a man she could trust wholeheartedly, a man willing to protect her with his life.

She’d seen a similar look before, in a number of masculine gazes. But this time she knew the same unguarded expression was there in her eyes, as well.

“Trust me, Katarina,” he whispered. “I will help you. And your mother.”

Her heart softened toward him.

She was lost. Deeply and truly lost.

“All right,” she agreed. “You may take me home.”

“You’ll wait for me there?”

“I’ll wait.”
For as long as you ask.

At the yielding look in Katarina’s eyes, Jack caught his breath. He wanted to be worthy of such unabashed trust. He had no idea if he was.
Lord, don’t let me fail this woman. I need Your strength.

Would his short prayer be enough? After all the sins he’d committed, would God hear him now when another person’s life depended on his actions?

Afraid for them both, Jack lowered his head toward Katarina’s and then stopped halfway down.

What was he doing?

He took a step back and shoved a hand through his hair.

Head swimming, muscles tense, he took another step back, away from temptation, away from a woman who had the power to take his mind off his duty. All because she’d had the courage to admit her deadly secret to him.

Katarina Kerensky was the bravest person he knew.

He tried to refocus his thoughts, concentrating his efforts on what must be done to protect her. The first was to complete their mission on his own. Tonight.

The rest they would decide later.

“Once I drop you off at your house, I will return as quickly as possible.” He kept his voice just above a whisper. He didn’t want to frighten her, but if she had a Jewish relative—no matter how distant—she was in real danger.

And so was her mother, which added layers of unpleasant dimensions to an already precarious situation. At least the silent warnings and contradictions he’d seen in Elena Kerensky’s eyes made better sense now.

“Perhaps we should be on our way.” She pivoted in the direction of his hotel room.

He saw her hesitate, then visibly take hold of herself. She regretted her confession.

He would not allow her to buckle under fear now.

“No, Katarina, don’t let doubt into your heart.” He
drew up behind her. “You’ve trusted me this far, trust me a little while longer.”

She turned to face him. “Do you really think this can end well?” A silent plea shimmered in her eyes.

The Lord’s words washed over him again.
Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.
The promise came stronger this time, clearer. As did the sense of peace Jack had thought no longer existed for him.

God had never left him. Jack had been the one to turn away. He’d convinced himself he was alone as Friedrich Reiter. But perhaps atonement began with the simple acknowledgment of the Lord’s hand in his life, even in this deadly time of war.

Especially
in this deadly time of war.

“Maybe we both need a little more faith,” he said aloud.

“Faith?” She angled her head in a show of genuine confusion at his choice of words. “Faith in what? Each other?”

“No. That will take time,” he admitted. “What I meant,” he said as he took a deep breath, “was faith in God.”

He saw the light of optimism in her eyes, right before her face crumbled into a look of stark agony. “God turned His back on me a long time ago.”

How many times had Jack thought that same thing in the last two years of his life? Too many times to count. An intense wave of sadness passed through him, sadness for her, for him, for them both. “I understand how you feel, Katarina.” He pressed his palm against her cheek again. “More than you know.”

Her expression wavered, softened, then firmly closed, as his own would have done had someone said those same words to him before this afternoon. He dropped his hand to his side. “Now is not the time for this discussion.”

“No. In that we agree.”

Putting his mind back on the mission, he led her into the hotel room then directed her to the open suitcase positioned on the table beside the radio. Opening a hidden panel, he pointed to the cabinet key he’d had made from the wax impression.

She lifted her eyes to his, a question lit in their depths.

“In case something happens to me tonight.” He left the rest unspoken.

The quick flash of terror in her eyes—terror for him—caught him by surprise and another layer of his hard exterior melted away.

Katarina Kerensky had done what no other woman had done before. She’d nudged her way into his heart with her convictions and sacrifices and genuine concern for his safety.

Would this brave woman be his salvation, or his ultimate doom?

21 November 1939, Sengwarden, Wilhelmshaven,
1900 Hours

T
he promise of a long, hard winter roared into the harbor on a fierce wind off the North Sea. Grim faced and resolute, Admiral Karl Doenitz studied the snow whipping past his office window. The blinding winter wonderland only added depth to his growing headache.

Turning away from the view, Doenitz settled a scowl on the young sailor standing at attention on the other side of his desk. Cold fury tried to work free, but he vowed to listen to the boy’s excuses before determining his ultimate fate in the
Kriegsmarine
.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Doenitz got straight to the point. “I understand,
Fähnrich
Heintzman, that you had an unusual meeting last evening.” He snapped out the statement with a flick of steel in his voice.

Staring straight ahead, Heintzman’s face remained
blank. But Doenitz saw behind the mask. Just past the layer of shock stood fear, surprise and guilt. It was the guilt that interested Doenitz most. “Well?”

“I… Yes, sir, it was quite unusual.”

Doenitz picked up Heintzman’s report off his desk. He’d already interviewed five of the six guards on duty last evening. Heintzman was the last. “And yet I see you failed to include any mention of the incident in your report.”

A muscle in the boy’s cheek jerked. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning, sir.”

“You didn’t think?”
In a fit of uncharacteristic rage, Doenitz slammed down the paper on the desk. “It is not your place to think,
Fähnrich,
but to follow procedure.”

“I…” Heintzman wisely trailed off and waited for Doenitz to continue.

“When a sailor is given an order, it doesn’t matter whether he
thinks
the order serves any purpose.” Outrage made Doenitz’s voice low and deadly. “He obeys without question.”

“I regret not serving my Fatherland to my utmost ability.”

Under normal circumstances, Karl Doenitz considered himself a fair man. Although these were anything but normal circumstances, he hesitated from instituting rough justice just yet. “Perhaps it is not too late to save what is left of your career,
Obermaat.
”

Heintzman choked down a loud gulp.
“Obermaat?”

“The demotion is the least of your worries. Know that
I will issue formal charges if you refuse to cooperate completely from this moment forward.”

Heintzman opened his mouth, closed it and then nodded.

Doenitz picked up the report again, skimmed it quickly. Normally, he hated to repeat himself but as he reviewed the incomplete notations, renewed anger clutched around his heart, and he slammed the paper onto the desk a second time. “I want to know the name of this actress, the one you bragged about meeting to your fellow guards but failed to mention in your report.”

It was training, or perhaps self-preservation, that had the sailor answering without hesitation. “Katarina Kerensky.”

As he let the significance of the boy’s revelation sink in, Doenitz came around his desk. “
The
Katarina Kerensky?”

“Yes, sir.”

“She is one of the most well-known names in Germany, perhaps in the world. Are you telling me that she came into this obscure fishing village, yet you failed to report the incident?”

“She promised me tickets to her play and a trip backstage if I kept our meeting quiet.” His voice shook, as though he’d only just realized how damning his explanation sounded.

“She asked you to keep the incident to yourself?”

“She wasn’t alone. She was with a man, they were…” The boy’s gaze darted around the room, dropped to the floor, lifted again. “They didn’t want stares.”

“Katarina Kerensky came here, to Wilhelmshaven of all places, for a tryst?”

“That was my understanding.”

It was plausible, Doenitz admitted to himself. A famous woman would certainly want anonymity if she were involved in something so inappropriate. In such a case, leaving the city made perfect sense. Except, of course, that the woman’s secret jaunt to Wilhelmshaven was on the exact night as the break-in into the commanding officer’s private quarters.

Doenitz thought of the tiny window in his bedroom. The dimensions were far too small for a man to fit through, but perfect for a woman. She would have needed help getting in, however, just as she had needed help—with the use of his chair—to get back out. Hence, the addition of a lover. “You said she was with a man. What was this man’s name?”

Heintzman divided a cautious look between Doenitz and the floor, eventually settling on the floor. “I didn’t get his name.”

“You didn’t get it, or he didn’t offer it?”

“Both. Neither. I mean—”

“I know what you mean.” Doenitz drew himself up. “What did this man look like?”

Heintzman took a deep breath then let it out slowly. “Nordic. Tall, dark blond hair, large frame. Definitely an officer, he had that kind of command about him. But he wasn’t in uniform.”

“What was he wearing?”

“I don’t remember.” The seaman’s eyebrows slammed together. “It was dark. He blended with the night.”

“And he didn’t offer his name, or insist you make a report?”

“No, sir. He looked, well, uh, that is, he kissed Fräulein Kerensky like a man in love.”

“You saw the two kiss?”

Heintzman gave a clipped affirmative and added, “Under a streetlight.”

“They kissed out in the open. But earlier you said they came to Wilhelmshaven to avoid stares.”

“Yes, sir, that’s what they told me. Which was why they were dressed in black, perhaps?”

“All black? Both of them?”

“Yes. I remember now. I thought it odd at first, until they explained their need for secrecy. Oh, and the fräulein was wearing pants.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “Not an evening dress?”

“No, sir.”

Another discrepancy. Another step closer to uncovering the identity of the intruder. Every instinct told Doenitz he had found his man. Or rather,
woman.

But why would Katarina Kerensky break into his private quarters? And who was the man with her? What, exactly, had they been after? Doenitz knew if he found the answer to one question, he would find the answer to the rest.

Ignoring Heintzman for a moment, he advanced to the other end of his desk and rummaged through a stack of personal correspondence. Pulling out a crisp white square of heavy parchment, he studied the invitation’s
gold-embossed lettering. Elena Kerensky’s annual ball hadn’t been an event he’d relished attending. Until now.

Surely the woman’s daughter, the famous princess turned stage actress, would be in attendance with all the other important men and women of the Third Reich.

That was it, of course. Instead of waiting for the in truder to come to him a second time, Doenitz would approach him, or rather her, first.

Now that he knew who he was looking for, and where he could find her, time was on his side. He would go to the ball as planned. He would watch. He would assess.

With one small mistake on her part, and cold, clear thinking on his part, the woman would be his in no time.

He simply needed to proceed with patience.

Fortunately, Admiral Karl Doenitz was a
very
patient man.

By the time Jack arrived at Kiel, the cold mist in the air had become a milky-white shroud. The fog all but strangled the meager light from the waxing moon. Testing the depth of visibility, Jack thrust out his hand in front of him. The lower half of his arm disappeared into the thick soup.

He would have to rely on his memory of the shipyard’s position and layout from the blueprints he’d studied earlier that morning in Himmler’s car.

With slow, cautious steps, Jack approached the complex from the southeast, cloaking himself inside the impenetrable fog. The crack of boot to ground had him
freezing in midstep. The noise came again, behind him and off to his left. Loud, precise, unmistakable.

Cocking his head, Jack listened to the cadence of boots hitting gravel. Click, a short pause, another click, pause. Click, pause, click, pause…

One man. Twenty feet away, his footsteps striking the hard, frozen ground in a slow but steady rhythm.

Glad he’d left Kerensky in the safety of her own home, Jack blew into his cupped palms, flexed his fingers, then pulled out his gun. Crouched low, he slipped into the edge of the dense forest, cleared his mind. And waited.

In a matter of seconds, a beam of light arced in a right-to-left pattern on the road.

Jack couldn’t make out the exact uniform the guard wore, or the type of rifle he carried. However, he could hear the man muttering to himself, grumbling about the cold weather and the rotten shift he’d pulled three nights in a row.

An amateur. Probably local police.

Jack knew he could avoid detection by letting the guard continue on his way. But if Jack could silence the man now, his exit out of the shipyard would go much smoother.

Decision made, Jack holstered his gun. He wouldn’t have to kill the man, just render him temporarily useless.

As the guard passed by, Jack fell into step behind him. He couldn’t actually see his quarry, only the sweeping light on the road at his feet.

Jack stepped forward. He could hear the man’s
breathing now,
feel
his nervous energy crackling like electricity on the air.

Another step and Jack slipped his left arm around the man’s throat, palm over his mouth, and yanked him backward. The flashlight tumbled to the ground, clicked off at the moment of impact.

Using the thumb of his right hand, Jack applied pressure to the guard’s wrist until the gun fell onto the gravel with a dull thud.

Flailing hands came up in a wild fight to fend off Jack’s attack. Jack tightened his grip, and the hands fell away.

After another moment, the guard started making odd gurgling sounds.

Self-reproach tried to rise inside Jack, guilt tried to blunt his edge and make him quit before he had the man subdued.

Jack turned off his mind, adjusted his hold, let his training take over.

The gurgling sounds morphed into strangled gasps.

Enough was enough.

A quick blow to the temple and the guard went limp.

Silently, Jack laid his prey onto the ground, far enough off the road to avoid detection.

He took an extra moment to check for a pulse at the throat. The beat against his fingertip came slow, steady, but strong enough to tell Jack he’d done no permanent damage to the man.

Working quickly now, Jack emptied the bullets from the guard’s gun, stashed them in his pocket, and then
tossed the weapon into the dense underbrush lining the road.

Retrieving the flashlight, he flicked the switch. The shaft of light flickered, then died. Jack flung aside the useless object and listened to the movements of the night.

Somewhere in the distance, a foghorn wailed, deep and low. The sound kicked him into action.

Moving slowly, he proceeded forward, pausing every few steps to listen and recalculate his position.

At an estimated fifteen yards from the front gate of the shipyard he crouched low. Blood pounded loudly in his ears, making it hard to hear. He took several deep breaths until his pulse steadied.

For several more minutes, he simply listened to the movement of the guard at the front gate, or rather lack of movement. The rhythmic breathing indicated a deep sleep. Another amateur.

Rising, Jack trekked silently through the gate no more than two feet from the slumbering guard.

Simplicity was often very effective.

Veering left, Jack took a moment to gather his bearings.

Halos of golden mist surrounded a large pole light, creating a murky beacon in the center of the complex. As he worked his way to the northeast quadrant of the yard, he continued to gauge his surroundings.

A light breeze kicked up, sending damp fog slithering along the concrete walls of the cavernous submarine
bays. Three massive cranes loomed over ships in various stages of completion.

Everywhere he looked, giant rubber hoses crisscrossed over one another along the ground, presenting a perilous walkway. Hammers, saws, rivet guns and grinders sat in neat rows along metal shelves to the left of the dry docks.

The Krupp-Germaniawerft looked like every other shipyard. However, considering the nature of the work commissioned by the
Kriegsmarine,
Jack thought it was odd that he found no guards patrolling the inner perimeter of the complex.

A trap? Or typical German arrogance? Were the owners of the shipyard so consumed with keeping intruders out, that they had left themselves vulnerable to attack from the inside?

Jack stayed hidden in the shadows as he made his way to the U-boat pens. He quickly located U-116 by its size and position facing the Bay of Kiel.

A small loading crane lay just to the left of the sub, but there was no cache of weapons waiting to be hauled up.

Were the mines already inside the U-boat?

Prepared to enter the steel beast, Jack crossed to the wooden walkway leading to the deck. But he froze as a beam of light swung next to his feet.

So. There was a roaming guard, after all.

Wheeling around, Jack slipped behind the tall stack of the U-boat. Heart hammering in his chest, he tapped in to the man he’d once been. He closed his eyes and prayed.
Lord, I need Your courage and protection tonight.

The light swept past again. Left to right. Right to left. Jack counted off the seconds between each arc. By his calculations, the guard was closing in on him.

Running out of time, Jack considered his options.

He could scramble into the U-boat, but the beam of light was getting closer. Too close. As much as he hated failure, Jack couldn’t risk capture now that he was this far into the mission.

He would simply have to wait for the guard to complete his sweep of the complex before climbing into the U-boat.

Resigned, Jack settled into position to wait.

And then the shouting began.