The Last Eagle (2011) (10 page)

 Stefan could smell the stink of hydraulic fluid two compartments away. Not a good sign. He increased his pace, ducking and weaving his way down the choked passageway, surprisingly agile for such a big man, but still finding the time along the way for a word in one sailor’s ear, a joke for another and a pat on the back. It was the behavior of a natural leader. Of course, he didn’t think of it that way. Wasn’t even aware of it. But it was exactly what his crew needed. His presence wafted through the ship like a fresh breeze.

“How soon?” Stefan asked, standing in the opening to the compartment, staring down at the huddle of men so stained with grease, it was hard to distinguish one from another.

Ritter glanced up from the pump, wiped his face with his sleeve, started to reply but held back. He and his men weren’t even supposed to be on board.

Chief K banged a pipe with his wrench, not sure how long Stefan had been watching and hoping it would create the impression that he had been in the thick of the repairs instead of sitting on the side, holding his aching head. He flashed yellow teeth. “One, maybe two hours. I got this sonofabitch patched together. But we need a goddamn new pump. Or a complete rebuild. The seals on this damn thing are kaput.”

“How long will it last?” Stefan interrupted.

The chief winced and then glanced in Ritter’s direction. “You’d have to ask him.”

“Commander.” Ritter stood, held out his hand.

“Hans?” Stefan said with surprise, grabbing Ritter’s soiled hand, feeling the strength in the grip. “Not the safest place to be right at the moment.”

Ritter couldn’t help smiling. He liked this man. He was smart, a good sailor. If he had been in command, he had no doubt they would have been sent packing weeks ago and the
Eagle
would be war-ready.

“We couldn’t stay away,” Ritter said. “And I know you are a man who likes direct answers, so I will give you one. I don’t know how long it will last. It could last minutes, or it could last months. It is, of course, our fault. We should have caught and fixed this problem when the
Eagle
was still in dry dock. You have my deepest apologies. We have played with the lives of you and your men. Offering our help is the least we can do.”

“If we survive this, I will look up the fellow who installed this pump the first time and, uh, have a little chat with him.”

Ritter laughed. Yes, indeed, he liked this man very much. It almost made what would happen a shame. “It is the least we can do.”

“A permanent fix—what will it take?”

“A new pump, or time to rebuild this one and then time to make sure the lines are purged of contaminants,” Chief K chirped in, unwilling to defer everything to Ritter.

“Where can we get our hands on a new pump?”

“Maybe Hel or Warsaw, but now—?” Chief K shrugged.

“We have some at our facility in Tallinn,” Ritter suggested.

“We may end up there,” Stefan muttered. “At this point, I’d sail to hell and back if it would get this boat healthy. Right at the moment, we don’t have time to take a little summer vacation. Your repairs will have to do. Let me know when you’re done, Hans. I’ll want to see you before you go.”

Ritter cleared his throat. “Yes, about that, sir. We were wondering if you could use some extra hands for the next few days?”

“I could use the help,” Chief K chirped hopefully.

Stefan’s first reaction was “No.” A submarine was hardly the place for civilians during war. On the other hand, they were in a pinch, and if these men could help— “Have you notified your company?”

Ritter shook his head. This is on our own.”

“You understand the risks? Last time I checked, this wasn’t your war.”

Ritter smiled.

“Welcome aboard,” Stefan said, slapping Ritter on the shoulder. “You work for the Chief, but you report to me. You’ll have to bunk where you can find space. You stay as long as the captain and I say so and when we say go, you go without any arguing. OK?”

Ritter nodded. “Thank you,” he said with feeling. He meant it.

“Torpedo tube leaks?” Stefan barked.

“Fixed ’em yesterday,” Chief K replied, tiredly. He needed a nap, but it might be days before he would get the chance.

“We leave in an hour,” Stefan announced. “I’ll be on the bridge if you need me.”

Stefan pulled on a heavy wool coat and grabbed a mug of coffee before climbing up into the conning tower. Still soaked with sweat from his trek with Sieinski, he was cold in the predawn chill.

Stefan took a sip from the mug, the coffee just the way he liked it, hot and bitter, and surveyed the scene. Smoke softened the waterfront and his view of the city. The last flames had been doused hours earlier, but crews continued to pour water on the piles of blackened rubble, columns of smoke and steam angling into the cloudless sky, already glowing pink with approaching sunrise. If there were more attacks, they would get no help from the weather.

He had men on the stern, adding a few more liters of diesel to their tanks and topping off their supply of fresh water. No telling when they would be able to get back into a Polish port, if ever. The Polish Corridor, the narrow tongue of land that was Poland’s only access to the sea, was squeezed on one side by Germany herself, and by the German province of East Prussia on the other. If it wasn’t already severed by the German Army, it was only a matter of days before it would happen. Gdansk and Gdynia would fall. And then they would be on their own.

Stefan wondered where they could go. It was hard not to think about it. It was too soon to consider while Poland was still fighting, but the time would come soon enough. By then Sieinski would be recovered. Stefan was glad he wouldn’t be forced to make the decision. Stefan knew how to fight. Surrender or exile was a choice he hoped he never had to make.

“Sir?” The call came from the open hatch at Stefan’s feet.

“I said I wasn’t to be disturbed unless it was the captain or Chief K.”

The sailor gave him a puzzled look, and then disappeared. He was back a moment later. “Sorry, sir, but, but she insists that she speak with you.”

“She?” Stefan roared.

“Any more surprises?” Stefan asked, as Squeaky slid down the ladder into view. Stefan stood on one side of the chart table in the control room, arms folded, his face impenetrable. Kate was on the other side, sitting on a stool. Her head was bandaged, her skirt torn and stained, but her eyes bright and amused.

“Well?”

Squeaky scratched his head, and gave Stefan a crooked grin. “Commander Stefan Petrofski, let me introduce you to—” He leaned toward Kate. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier.”

Kate adjusted the bandage on her head. “Roosevelt,” she said crisply, “Kate Roosevelt. And who are you?”

Squeaky blushed. “Lieutenant Jan Wallesa, but everyone calls me Squeaky.” What a beauty, Squeaky couldn’t help thinking to himself.

Kate held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Squeaky.”

“Likewise,” Squeaky replied, grasping her hand as lightly as he would touch a butterfly, afraid that a firmer grasp would crush it.

Stefan cleared his throat. “This, of course, won’t do,” he said firmly. “We can’t have a woman on board. She’ll have to get off immediately.”

Kate’s responded by closing her eyes, reaching out and grabbing Squeaky’s shoulder for support.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Stef,” Squeaky interjected, grabbing Kate by the elbow to steady her. “She was unconscious when she came aboard. Took a severe smack to the head.”

“I thought my orders were clear enough?”

“She was with Hans and his team. I thought … I thought we could use their help. She and her partner were attacked. I didn’t think we could just send her away, not like that.”

“There’s someone else?”

Squeaky held out a hand of caution. “But it’s all right. He’s a man, not a woman.”

Stefan pushed his back his cap, exhaled loudly. “Why don’t we start at the beginning.”

Squeaky glanced at Kate, who took the cue and started in. “Like Squeaky said,” she began, her voice faint and shaking. “My name is Kate Roosevelt. My partner, Reggie, and I work for the North American News Service.”

“For an American you speak very good Polish,” Stefan interrupted.

“I’d pass the complement on to my mother,” Kate replied, “if she were still alive.”

Stefan’s mouth swung open like a barn door in the wind, but Kate didn’t give him a chance to respond. “We’ve been doing background stories on Polish arts and culture and how regular Polish families are dealing with threat of war. You know, warm and fuzzy pieces about painters, poets, women and children. We were to leave for England in two days and from there back to the United States. But, well, you know what happened. And since I’m a reporter, I wanted to get some photographs of the attack for my stories. I also thought my uncle might appreciate it”

“Nothing like a few dead bodies and burning buildings to fire up your readers, eh?” Stefan remarked. “Uncle? Who might that be?”

Kate smiled. “Perhaps you’ve heard of him. We share the same last name. His first name is Franklin.”

Squeaky broke the silence. “You mean. . .?”

“Yeah, the president of the United States.”

“I don’t care who you
say
your uncle is,” Stefan barked. “I want you off this ship. Now.”

Stefan looked at Squeaky. “Get some guards, issue them rifles, have them take Miss
whoever
and her friend back to their hotel. A submarine at war is not place for a woman.”

“Belay that order.”

“Captain on the bridge,” Stefan barked as Captain Josef Sieinski stepped cautiously through the hatchway.

There was a deep purple bruise on his forehead, the color accentuating the paleness of the rest of his face. He ran a trembling hand through his thin, blonde hair. “We haven’t been formerly introduced,” he said, displaying a vestige of his normal charm despite his condition. “I’m Josef Sieinski, captain of the
Eagle
.”

“Kate Roosevelt, reporter with North American News Service.” She ignored Stefan’s snort of derision.

“And a beautiful American, I see.”

“That, too,” Kate replied, color coming to her cheeks. “At least the American part.”

Sieinski turned to Stefan. “And so I have you to thank for being here?”

“Yes, sir. You were lucky to have survived the attack,” he added.

Sieinski gave him a quizzical look. “Yes, of course,” he said. “Status?”

“Repairs are almost done. No telling how long they will last. But we’re fueled and ready to go. We should be underway in less than an hour. Headquarters has ordered us out of port. I don’t want to be sitting here when the next attack comes either.”

“Of course not,” Sieinski licked his lips, his mind elsewhere for the moment. “We can defend ourselves?”

Stefan nodded.

“Very good, then,” he said with barely concealed relief. “I ... I’ll be in my quarters. Yes. Come get me when we’re ready to leave.” Sieinski turned and began to edge his way off the bridge, using the backs of chairs, and the wall to keep his balance.

“Sir?”

Sieinski didn’t pause. “Yes?”

“The woman?”

That brought him to a halt. He grabbed a pipe overhead, turned enough so that everyone could see the garish mark on his forehead. In the artificial light of the bridge, it made him look like a demented Cyclops. “She stays, of course. Everyone knows that a beautiful woman brings a ship luck. A neice of the United States of America’s president—that can’t hurt, either. I’ll take all the luck I can get.” He disappeared down the passageway.

“What a sweet man,” Kate said after he was gone.

“Welcome aboard the
Eagle
, Miss Roosevelt,” Stefan said briskly. “And if you get in the way or do anything that puts this ship or crew at risk, I don’t care who your fucking uncle is. . . I will certainly throw you and your friend overboard myself. Understand?”

Kate smiled. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Put her in my quarters,” Stefan bellowed.

“Is he always so charming?” Kate remarked as Stefan escaped up the ladder into the conning tower bridge.

Squeaky gave a weak smile. He wondered if he should tell the woman that the captain had got it wrong. A beautiful woman didn’t bring luck. In fact, exactly the opposite was true. He decided to keep quiet and said instead: “Once you get to know him, you’ll find out that he’s just a big teddy bear.”

“Hides it well, doesn’t he?” Kate mocked. She held out her hand as the room began to spin again. “I think I need to lay down,” she said quickly, fighting back nausea. “Why don’t you lead me some place quiet,” she strained. You can tell me more about your Stefan along the way.”

She didn’t finish. Her mouth sagged open and her eyes began to roll back in her heard. Squeaky jumped forward, catching her around the waist before she crumpled to the deck. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, lifting her in his arms. “We’ll take care of you.” He gently carried her from the control room.