“I’ll get out of your way, then,” William said, turning to leave. “I’ll have my hands full at the power plants.”
“Thank you for your contribution. I’m proud to call you my son.” The vice admiral embraced William. In William’s mind, Sir Stirling Hargrave could not have paid him a greater compliment. Or made him feel so utterly unworthy.
William’s heart pounded in his chest, and he hoped his father-in-law couldn’t hear it. He got into his car and headed out of the complex. He had done his part. Sir Stirling and his team would have to handle the rest. If his hunch was correct, by the time he made it back to St. George’s, the German subs would be alerted to the presence of the British and American destroyers in the area. Once they realized they were exposed and vulnerable, they would radio a message to their contact, who would in turn redirect the transport planes. It was just too risky for the operation to go forward now.
William didn’t speed on the return trip. He wasn’t anxious to get back to Nighthawk, but he had an urgent need to see his wife. He needed to hold her, be with her, and let her know that everything was all right now. That she was safe with him.
As he stared out to sea, he imagined himself in one of the
Unterseeboots
when the alarm signal sounded from the
Zentrale
ordering an emergency crash-dive. He wished he were with them. He loved the thrill of the chase. He sincerely hoped he hadn’t jeopardized the lives of any of the crews, especially his friend Karl, and that they would slip away before they ever had to hear the call to battle stations, “
Auf Gefechtsstationen!
” He could breathe easier now, confident he had saved lives on both sides.
“Where have you been?” Nighthawk demanded furiously when William returned.
“I had some business to take care of.”
“At such a critical time?”
“It was related to the mission.”
Nighthawk sneered before he announced, “The mission has been aborted.”
“What?” William shouted, feigning anger and surprise. “When?”
“A few minutes ago. I got a message from
Kapitänleutnant
Krauss. They were forced to break radio silence. The U-boats are on their way out to sea. They’ve been redirected to patrol the U.S. east coast. The transport planes from Spain have been ordered to turn around in mid-flight. I’m having the team dismantle the explosives. We are instructed to have our people restore communications and electric service to the island.”
“And the operation?”
“Delayed indefinitely, according to the message transmitted from Herr Krauss,” Nighthawk informed his superior with disgust. “Essentially, we’re dead in the water.”
William breathed a sigh of relief at the message from the radioman but tried his best to appear disappointed.
“All that work, all that planning,” William sighed. “We’ll never have another opportunity like this one.”
“You’ve changed your tune now that you’re out of danger,” Nighthawk said. “You’re not fooling me at all,
Wilhelm.”
William didn’t bother to respond to his subordinate’s insolence. He hadn’t asked for this assignment. Hadn’t wanted it. It had been thrust upon him by Canaris. He had been lured into it, courted, charmed by his former commander. Neither of them had much respect for Hitler, but William had not refused what he clearly saw as his duty to his country.
“I’ll be at home if you need to reach me,” William said, dismissing Nighthawk before he walked away.
“Wait.” Nighthawk stopped him, but seemed to hesitate. He knew something about Wilhelm von Hesselweiss. He was the keeper of secrets, and this secret had been carefully safeguarded, but now was not the time to reveal it. It wasn’t his place to set the emergency plan into motion. He nearly choked on the information, but he would follow orders.
“If you think your hands are clean, you are naïve, Wilhelm. Do you think it was an accident that the man you replaced when you first got to the island was lost in a boating mishap? Oh, yes, I forgot, it
was
an accident. A very
fortunate
one, for you. They never did find the body, did they?”
“I had nothing to do with Sir James Markham’s disappearance!” William protested.
“Disappearance?” Nighthawk scoffed snidely, rubbing at the spots of blood on his shirt. “If it makes you feel more respectable to think of it that way. But you’ve got blood on your own hands.”
“What do you mean?”
“It seems that my delicious little French pastry is spoiled,” Nighthawk remarked.
“Am I supposed to understand your crude references?” William asked, anger bubbling to the surface.
“While she was masquerading as a British censorette, and playing the role of the seductive French mistress, a role she played very well, I learned she was about to reveal the identity of the German spy known as
Island Eagle
.”
William’s face paled.
“But how did she—how could she have known?”
“She had us under surveillance; she was a British agent,” Nighthawk sneered. “It seems the British helped her escape after her parents were transported to the detention center to be ‘reeducated.’ She was eternally grateful to them.”
“You compromised our operation?” William seethed. “What if she talks?”
“I assure you, she won’t be talking to anyone anymore,” Nighthawk said dryly.
“What did you do to her?” A growing sense of dread had the bile rising to William’s throat.
“You interrupted us at a most inopportune time. I was just beginning to question her. But you seemed to be in such a hurry, you took all the sport out of it. No matter, it will be taken care of by the end of the day. She’ll be found in the nude, with her throat slit, in the basement of the Princess Hotel. In all the confusion of the day, it won’t even warrant a mention in the papers. Not like that other British censorette. Yvette, or whatever her real name is, is a spy. I doubt anyone will even acknowledge her. It’s a risky business.” Nighthawk smirked and shrugged. “Of course, I shall miss her very much—in my bed.”
“How can you make light of this?” William tried to recall Yvette’s beautiful face and the vulnerable swell of her belly and knew it would haunt his dreams forever. Evil emanated from the monster beside him. “The woman is pregnant—with your child, I assume.”
“That’s no matter to me, nor should it be to you. I’m saving you and our whole operation at a most critical time, and all you can do is berate me?” Nighthawk railed. “You don’t have the stomach for this business. They put the wrong man in charge.”
Nighthawk never saw the punch coming. When William’s fist connected with his subordinate’s jaw, the crack reverberated and the lightning-like blow toppling Nighthawk like a solid oak. William lifted Nighthawk by his shirtfront, willing him to gain consciousness so he could finish the job. He flexed the sore hand that had felled his nemesis. One punch wasn’t enough. Like a lava flow, William’s molten rage saturated the crevices of his mind and the raw intensity of his anger searched for an outlet.
William realized he had to get away or he would kill his associate with his bare hands. Captaining a U-boat required nerves of steel, but perhaps Nighthawk was right. He was growing weary of all the killing on both sides of the conflict.
His stomach churned. He needed to feel clean again. He needed to see Diana. He would pick her up at her parents’ house, take her home, and coax her into bed, so he could pretend this whole episode had never happened. A man and a woman could lose themselves in each other, and the sounds of love could surely block out the sounds of war. He was anxious for the familiar feel of his wife.
But first, there was the matter of the French woman—British spy or whoever she was. One word from her and their cover would be blown. Everything he had worked for would be destroyed. He would lose Diana forever. But the woman was pregnant! How could he have her blood on his conscience? If he did, he’d be no better than Nighthawk.
William jumped into his car and drove to the Princess Hotel. He’d decide how to handle matters when he got there. Nighthawk would be suspicious, and he could be a problem in the future, but he couldn’t prove anything. Whatever else he was, he would remain a loyal soldier. He would follow orders.
With any luck, William’s role in undermining the German plot and compromising the mission would never be revealed. He had averted a certain catastrophe for both sides. One day he would have to pay a price for that. But he couldn’t worry about that now.
Chapter 15
William arrived at Nighthawk’s hotel room and pounded on the door. Greeted by silence, he tried the lock.
“Yvette, are you in there? It’s William Whitestone. Let me in.” He thought he heard a muffled reply. “Stand away from the door,” he shouted. Looking up and down the hallway, assured that no one was loitering there, he pulled out his gun and shot several times around the door handle. He reached his hand in and turned the knob from inside, stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him.
The scene that greeted him made his stomach lurch.
Yvette was bound and gagged on the bed, still only half dressed, tears staining her cheeks, struggling to get free. When she saw him she cringed in fear.
He untied the gag.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” she whispered. “My baby.” Tears stained her cheeks.
“Do you think I’m an animal?” William asked bitterly. He untied her. She rubbed her hands and feet to restore circulation.
He handed her a robe. “Here, put this on.” He picked up the telephone and couldn’t tear his eyes away from the bruises on her face. Nighthawk had beaten her bloody.
“Yes, I need an ambulance at the Princess Hotel. Room 205. Emergency. Immediately.”
Yvette screamed.
He slammed down the phone and turned to her.
“I think I’m in labor! Please, help me,” she sobbed.
He rushed into the bathroom, grabbed some clean towels, and soaked a washcloth with water, thinking that this woman needed more help than he could give.
At her bedside, he tenderly patted her face to remove the blood.
“Hush, now. I’m here. Everything will be okay.”
She grabbed his hand and squeezed it.
“The pain…my baby… It’s coming!”
“How long have you had these pains?”
He knew nothing about childbirth. He was a sailor, for
Gott
’s sake. Not many occasions to deliver babies on a ship.
“All morning,” she replied, “since he left. The pain is worse now.”
“The ambulance is on its way,” he assured her. “It should be here soon.” He hoped he was right. In all the confusion, it was unlikely that any ambulance would respond. In a few minutes he would have to drive her to the hospital in his own car.
“Will you help me?” she pleaded.
He smiled and nodded his head, hoping he could provide some comfort to the poor woman.
Her pains had subsided for a moment, but she still held his hand in a death grip. “He means to kill me when he returns.”
“He admitted that to me.”
“You’ve got to get me out of here,” she said anxiously. “He will be back for me.”
“He won’t hurt you. That I can promise you. I’ll kill him before he lays another hand on you. He shouldn’t be a problem right now. What is there between you?”
“He fed me lies,” she began. “I sifted through them and reported half-truths. It was a game we played.”
“A dangerous game,” he frowned. “Is it true you were going to expose me?”
“Then you know who I am? Yet you’re still helping me?”
“Whatever you think of me, I am still a human being,” William said. “Where’s that damn ambulance?”
“You were never in danger. I was going to expose Nighthawk as the Island Eagle. When my baby and I are safe, I’m going to have him hunted down like the dog that he is.”
“He’ll go underground,” William said.
“He can go to hell,” Yvette answered, screaming again. “It’s coming, my baby’s coming!”
“Can you wait for the ambulance?”
He got his answer when she sagged back on the pillow, spread her legs and clamped down on his hand as she pushed. He could see the head crowning.
“I see it. I see the baby’s head.”
What in the hell do I do now?
In the next minute, out came the shoulders, and the rest of the child slipped out in a whoosh of fluid onto the towel he had placed at the foot of the bed.
“He’s here.” William smiled widely. “It’s a boy.”
Yvette started crying, tears of joy. “A boy?”
“A bruiser.” William laughed.
“Is he…?”
William stared at the child in wonder.
“He doesn’t have horns, if that’s what you mean. He has the requisite number of fingers and toes.”
Yvette choked back her laughter.
“Then he doesn’t take after his father.”
The baby cried.
“I want to see my—”
Suddenly she sat up on her elbows.
“William, I have to push again.”
“The afterbirth?” William wondered.
In another minute, smooth as a slippery eel, another child slipped out of the womb behind her brother.