The Last Eagle (2011) (31 page)

Just a temporary setback, soon enough set right. He had made his call just in time—barely—and the ambassador had done what he had requested. Once he had regained control of the
Eagle
, he wouldn’t bother trying to humor the Estonians. He would personally make sure his men were placed on board. If the Poles resisted in any way, he would have them shot on the spot and dumped into the harbor, beginning with their big, bearded executive officer, Stefan.

“Mind if I join you boys?”

Kate stepped up onto the deck of the conning tower bridge. She pulled her coat tightly around her as she joined the two men, Stefan and Talli. The bruise on her forehead was beginning to leak out from beneath her make-up. The wind roughed her hair. Stefan noticed she had pulled on a pair of trousers beneath her skirt. Too bad for the men in the control room who had watched her climb up the ladder.

Stefan gave her a distracted glance, frowned and shook his head.

“I know, I know …” she said. “You don’t need to remind me. I should stay below. Dangerous up here. But I needed some fresh air. And if we aren’t going to make it, I wanted to be up here, not down there.” Kate turned around, leaned against the edge of the conning tower, and stared back at the city of Tallinn. “Lovely place,” she mused, “I wish I could have spent more time here.” She noticed a figure standing on the quay. “Wonder who that is?”

The words struck at Stefan like a dagger. Despite the danger of the moment, he couldn’t totally ignore feelings of failure at leaving Chief K behind, and the worry that McBride had been unable to find him. He wheeled around, brought the binoculars to his eyes, fully expecting to see Chief K standing there by himself. “That’s not the chief,” Stefan said tonelessly, his lips parting into a decent impression of a wolf showing his fangs. “You again. And look at that uniform.
Kriegsmarine
. Who the hell are you and why did you want my ship?”

Talli squinted back at the pier. Despite the darkness, there was enough light from the fire to see Ritter’s blond hair even without binoculars. “Fencing scar on his face?” he asked

Stefan nodded, lowered his binoculars. “Know him?”

“His name is von Ritter. Peter. I met him yesterday. He is a
Fregattenkapitän
in the
Kriegsmarine
. How do you know him?”

Stefan shook his head. “I am a fool,” he muttered angrily.

“He was aboard the
Eagle
with two others,” Kate interjected. “Posing as Dutch engineers, weren’t they?”

Stefan nodded.

“Saved me from some trouble,” she said, touching her forehead, her eyes losing focus for just a moment. “Wonder why they bothered?”

Talli nodded knowingly. “Ahh, they were after your vessel all along.” It was a statement, not a question.

“So it seems,” Stefan said through teeth clenched so tightly his jaw was beginning to hurt. He was half tempted by a wild thought: to leap off
Eagle
, swim back to the pier, and then proceed to kill with his bare hands the man who had murdered Jerzy.

“What is your plan now, Captain?” Talli asked dryly. The question brought Stefan back to the moment. He tore his gaze away from Ritter. “Oh, I don’t know,” he croaked harshly, gesturing futilely at the freighter that was moving to block their way out, “I was kind of hoping you might suggest something.”

Talli shook his head and smiled.

“I was afraid of that.”

“What about that?” Kate pointed at the deck gun.

Stefan shook his head. “I’m afraid it would do about as much good as spitting watermelon seeds at an elephant.”

“Uh-oh,” Kate said, gesturing at a distant motorboat, light bow wave spilling high in the air, racing toward the submarine from the other side of the harbor. “What do you think they want? Don’t look friendly either.”

“One of yours?” Stefan asked Talli.

Talli squinted at the distant boat, visible in the tapestry of shadows and reflected city lights that winked and dazzled across the harbor’s surface. “Private,” he said, frowning. “Some rich man’s yacht, I think.”

The motorboat closed quickly, banked at the last minute and came abreast of the submarine’s bridge, and then cut its speed to match pace with the submarine. The figure piloting the boat from the flying bridge high above the cabin, turned his face toward the trio in the conning tower, and grinned.

“Hey?” Kate said. “ Isn’t that …”

“Captain Sieinski,” Stefan finished for her. “Yes.”

“What is he doing?” Talli said.

Sieinski stared at Stefan for a moment. He pointed to the freighter.

Stefan spread his arms wide, palms upward, acknowledging the futility of it all. The freighter would block the way, and then it would be over. There was nothing he could do.

Sieinski looked again at the freighter, then back to Stefan, staring intently at his second in command for another moment. And then saluted.

“Why did he do that?” Kate said.

Talli and Stefan said nothing. Sieinski gave a final nod, turned away and shoved the throttles forward. The bow of the powerful yacht leapt into the air like a dog let out of kennel, and then veered away from the submarine, straight toward the stern of the freighter.

“What can he do?” Kate said with growing alarm. “That little boat is no match for that, that monstrosity …”

Talli interrupted Kate’s rant by gripping her arm tightly. “Time to pray,” he breathed.

Hope and horror. Stefan couldn’t ignore the sudden appearance of either emotion as he realized what Sieinski was going to attempt.

 “He’s not going to do what I think he’s going to do, is he?” Kate said. “It would be suicide.”

“Don’t call it that. …” Stefan said sharply

They watched silently as the yacht raced up quickly behind the lumbering freighter. Lights began to wink along the freighter’s back railing.

“They’re shooting at him,” Kate said with surprise. Talli and Stefan remained mute.

The shots had no effect. The dark water and the night making the bouncing yacht a difficult target for even the most expert marksman. And Sieinski didn’t flinch from his goal. At the last moment, the yacht seemed to accelerate into the freighter’s stern. It disappeared in a sudden flash followed by the dull thump of an explosion. A ball of flame mushroomed into the air, lighting up the entire harbor. And then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. The freighter continued on course, seemingly no more bothered by the yacht’s assault than a cow is bothered by one fly.

“What a waste,” Kate said, turning on Stefan like it was his fault.

Stefan kept the
Eagle
on course, cutting through the dark water at top speed. He would have to decide their fate in another moment. Perhaps ramming the freighter was the only course left to them.

“Look,” Talli said.

Slowly, imperceptibly, the big freighter began turn away from the harbor opening.

“I don’t understand.” Kate said.

When Stefan made no move to respond to her question. Talli did it for him. “His sacrifice was not in vain. He has damaged her rudder.”

“He knew what he was doing then. …,” Kate murmured.

“He was a sailor,” Talli said. “He knew. …”

Stefan’s mouth was a straight line. In a way, it changed nothing. Stefan still despised Sieinski and all that had made him the way he was. And yet, at the end, he was a captain in deed as well as title. Stefan touched the tip of his cap in final salute.

Ritter watched with curiosity as the motor yacht raced out of nowhere, approaching the submarine. At first he assumed it was the Estonian harbor authorities, attempting to persuade the
Eagle
to give way and stop. But when the yacht turned away from the submarine and raced toward the freighter, he began to worry. As seconds passed, and the yacht quickly closed on the freighter, his alarm increased. “Shoot, you fools,” he screamed finally, his voice ragged and hollow in the predawn darkness. 

A moment later, the light from the muzzles of a dozen rifles began to wink along the railing of the freighter.

There was no change, however, in the yacht’s course. Of course, what could a motor yacht do? He tried to assure himself. It was an empty gesture. A craft of wood and glue against a monstrosity of iron and steel a hundred times its size.

Ritter felt himself calm as he watched the last moments. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it and then exhaled at the same moment the yacht disappeared beneath the freighter’s stern. There was a momentary flash of fire as the fuel tanks detonated, and then nothing else. It had been futile. He wondered who had been piloting the motor yacht. A local anti-Nazi partisan? Not likely. Someone from the
Eagle’s
crew staying behind to sacrifice himself? Again, not likely. He had watched the way Stefan treated his crew more like family than sailors. He would no more leave someone behind than a father would leave behind a son. Whoever it was must have known he wouldn’t survive the impact. He had to be prepared for death with nothing to lose.

Ritter continued to watch the race, relaxed now, smoking casually. When he finished his cigarette, he would jog over to the Estonian Naval Headquarters and settle it all with Admiral Kalm. At the moment, he was enjoying the spectacle, and the time alone.

And then the worst began to happen. The freighter’s bow wavered and then with agonizing slowness, it began to turn away from the harbor opening.

“No,” Ritter whispered in disbelief. He flipped his cigarette into the water. Somehow, the yacht had damaged the freighter after all. It gave the
Eagle
the chance it needed. Now it had an open shot to the sea.

There was only one thing left to do. Destroy the submarine. She couldn’t be permitted to escape. That had been clear from the outset.

It was almost as if Ritter gave the order. There was a flash followed by a loud crack from the harbor battery on the nearby bluff. Ritter held his breath and then exhaled when a plume of white spray erupted into the air, 150 meters short and another 75 meters behind the
Eagle
.

The
Eagle
shifted course slightly and seemed to hunker down lower in the water like a jaguar dropping her head and then running for her life. Her deck gun fired in response, but the shell exploded against the side of a building far short of the harbor battery.

Ritter clenched his fists as he watched all that he had worked for, all that he had dreamed about, begin to dissolve before his eyes. He had been so close, within mere hours of taking over control of the vessel. And now this, she was on the verge of escaping, or worse yet, being destroyed.

Though it wasn’t technically his fault, how would he explain it Dönitz? He had carried out the entire plan with meticulous precision only to falter at this last moment. Ritter shook his head. Enough time later for recriminations.

It had been a risky plan from the start. In some sense, it was amazing they had gotten this close. Of course, that wouldn’t matter to the Dönitz, or Hitler, for that matter.

The Estonian guns on the harbor’s other side opened fire. The results were the same—a column of spray shot into the air. Another miss. The crack of the big guns, firing now with persistence, sounding like thunder rolling across the harbor and town. Behind him, all the buildings were ablaze with light. Everyone in Tallinn was awake, watching the show.

Still the
Eagle
continued to streak for the harbor opening, her passing marked by a trail of white foam.

Two more shots, two more misses, the shells striking rock and concrete on the harbor jetty instead of the submarine’s iron skin. Closer. But Ritter could see they were too late to zero in on the submarine. Or perhaps they were missing on purpose. He would never know. The remaining shots were acts of futility. Ritter watched the
Eagle
race past the jetty, disappear into the night. He sighed heavily, turned on his heels, and began to trudge away. The
Eagle
was gone.

He didn’t get far. A moment later, a dark black Mercedes, identical to the one Ritter had left destroyed on the streets of Tallinn, glided to a stop on the quay. The head of the Estonian Navy, Admiral Kalm, stepped out of the car. His face was puffy from lack of sleep. He licked his lips and said, “We did what we could.”

Ritter shook his head with mock regret. “I’m afraid I will have to report otherwise to my superiors.”

“What of my,uh, remuneration?”

“Ah, yes. Of course, good intentions count for nothing. Since we received nothing, you will get nothing.”

The admiral sagged and then caught himself. “I will talk to Dönitz.”

Ritter laughed. “By all means. Please do. You’re a fool if you think it will do any good. I did everything including handing you the submarine on a silver platter, and now you let it get away.” Ritter stepped closely, his face inches from Kalm’s nose, who too, his credit, did not back away. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you right here,” Ritter breathed, a sudden flush of rage rushing through his body. And then the moment passed and he stepped back, cocking his head with a sudden thought. “Take me to your headquarters,” he ordered. “I need to make some new arrangements.”