Hatteras Blue (35 page)

"We found it. But it was ruined—"

He screamed as the old man's fist came into his chest.

"It's true," said Galloway, from behind them. "We found the currency. It must've been millions. But it was in the water too long, and the acid in the batteries ... anyway, it came to pieces in our hands."

"Captain, I hope that is the truth. There are good ways to die. And there are bad."

"No, it's true. I pulled it out myself." He hesitated, then decided he might as well ask, might as well know what they'd all died for, now that it was all over. "Where did it come from? The money, and the gold?"

Ruderman raised his eyebrows. "You haven't understood?"

"Not entirely."

Through the window Galloway saw the davit dip again, saw the U-boat list as a second netful surged upward into the light, hung, spewing water, then was swayed aft and lowered into the hull.

The old man stared at him for a moment longer, then lifted his eyes. He examined the high clouds, the horizon, then shouted harsh Spanish over the sea. On the conning tower a man came to attention, then raised binoculars, began to search the sky. Ruderman turned his attention back to Galloway. "It is strange, Captain, that after your father almost wrecked our plans, you should have set them right again. Strange, how you and the Tarnhelm have become intertwined."

"Oh—your message. Some kind of magic helmet that makes you invisible, wasn't it?"

"Invisible, yes; but more than that; its wearer could change into any form he desired." The old^man reflected; at last he went on, a little reluctantly. "In the old myths it was the key to recovering the Ring of the Nibelungen, you see. That gave power over gods and men; it alone could rebuild shattered Asgard, after the destruction of the old gods ... I suppose that is what it meant, to the man who chose it." Ruderman stared at Keyes, who was breathing shallowly. Flecks of blood stained his lips where he had bitten them. "Heinrich was fond of the old myths, maybe too fond— Mr. Keyes did not tell you what it really meant?"

"The gold, I guess."

"Nothing more?"

"I don't think he knew anything else."

"Perhaps our deepest secrets are still secrets, then. And that is good. But you, Captain Galloway—I want you to know them. For a reason, as you'll soon find out. As for you two—" he smiled tightly at Hirsch and Keyes—"I see no reason for you not to hear this. You may be interested. And I don't think we'll have to worry about undue publicity."

He chuckled and eased himself down on one of the lockers, not far from Keyes. The wounded man stared at him, his face pale as piano keys; Galloway wondered how far he was from shock. Behind Ruderman the young blond stood alert, his eyes dangerous as the muzzle of his gun.

"Operation Tarnheim—it is of course the same word in German—was one of three that the SS planned in early 1945 for execution after the defeat. It was the last one, and the most important."

A siren wailed across the water. Ruderman stood up and shaded his eyes. When he sat down again he was smiling. "It was an ambitious plan, but perhaps too romantic. Like many plans our ... former leadership made. But we've finished loading. One phase of it, at least, is finally complete."

Galloway nodded, glancing at Bernie. She was staring at the old man, her face dead. "Go on," he said, switching his attention back. "What else was it about? If it wasn't just the gold."

"First things first. In May of 1945 I was a young officer in the SS. Junior, but with an excellent record in the East. I was called to Berlin to receive my orders from Himmler in person. I was to go to the naval base at Kiel-Wik and take charge of two cargoes. One had come by train from Silesia in East Prussia. The other I brought from Berlin myself."

"He's not Straeter," said Hirsch suddenly.
"You're
Straeter. All those things you told me about Keyes— that was you"

The old man bowed slightly toward her from his seat, but his eyes stayed on Galloway. Tiller nodded. "The train—that would be the gold."

"Exactly. In Kiel I found that the Germania Werft shipyard had readied two U-boats for the mission. Both were of the newest types—"

"Two
U-boats?"

"Yes. One was the new diesel model. Larger and faster than the older diesels—there would have been no Western Front had we had it in 1943. The other was something entirely new. A smaller craft, but with unlimited diving time. Thirty knots speed underwater. Totally self-contained propulsion." He nodded into the sun, toward the sleek gray-black shape. "The Walter boat."

Galloway ran his eyes over it again. "I've read about 'em. Wasn't there some problem with the fuel?"

"There was. Concentrated hydrogen peroxide is deadly stuff. Corrosive, sensitive, and terribly explosive." His withered hands plucked at the coveralls. "One of the many precautions we have to observe. I can't smoke aboard, for example. But as you see, we coped."

"You've kept her in good shape."

"Four decades is not long for well-maintained machinery. There are older ships in your Coast Guard. This boat was lying on the bottom of a river for most of that time. Fresh water—and an excellent hiding place.

"But to return to my story ... we left Kiel for Argentina. Both U-boats, in company. But off Hatteras we met a certain young destroyer captain, who crept up so quietly and skillfully on a snorkel wake that we were taken by surprise."

Galloway strained to remember the action report, read by a flashlight in a room where he was no longer welcome. "That explains something that puzzled me. It was the second U-boat—yours—that torpedoed the
Arnold"

"Who? Oh, the other destroyer. Yes."

In his effort to remember, Galloway saw a light flicker on in his mind. He imagined men running across the decks of a stricken submarine, falling under a hail of fire. Men plunging into the dark sea for refuge. And then, suddenly, the whole scene obliterated by an inexplicable detonation.

'You torpedoed the other U-boat, too," he said slowly. "With your own men aboard."

"Kapitan Dietz did that, yes. He is dead now. But I ordered it."

"Why?"

"It was necessary. If your father had not killed them all for me, I would have had to." His eyes crinkled at Galloway's naivete. "If they were captured they might have been forced to talk. What they knew was that important. Believe me, they would have understood, even agreed. They were the cream of the Party."

"I see."

The old man looked again at the waiting submarine, then at the sky; finally, glancing at Galloway from his seat on the locker, lit another cigarette. 'Tour father's unexpected attack, the sinking, checkmated me for a long time. Frankly, we didn't know where we were that night. It had been a long run from Germany, and the

Allied raids had made it impossible to get ball bearings for our gyrocompasses. We knew we were off North Carolina, but the exact location of the sinking was a mystery.

"But now, at the end, I win. All worked for the best; all mouths were stopped; the gold was preserved for us, till now, till we are ready to make use of it.

"You know, as I grow older I find that destiny, or the historical process, has a certain symmetry. Those who study it learn much. Those with both knowledge and a steel will, they are the ones who eventually rule. No matter how numerous the littler men who oppose them."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"We are wiser now than we were in 1945. Far wiser than in 1939. We will not aim for world domination this time. At least, not right away. We will not make the same mistakes again."

"New ones, eh?"

"Perhaps. But the combination of this gold—and this U-boat—"

"Will do what?"

Straeter laughed then. "You aren't thinking, Captain! Please exercise your imagination. We made a five-day passage here from South America, undetected by Coast Guard planes or boats. We have been off Hatteras for a week, yet the Drug Enforcement Administration has no idea we are here. There is a certain export commodity in great demand in the United States. The market requires approximately a hundred metric tons of it a year. Our cargo capacity is five tons—ten if we carry no torpedoes. Do you perceive a business opportunity?"

"You could wrap up the cocaine market," said Galloway. 'You're right, it's sweet. Who thought of that?"

"I did. All we needed, really, was operating capital—and now we have that too. So you see that things have not worked out too badly. At least for that part of the operation."

"That's right, you said there were two parts to it. Two shipments."

"Yes. Only the second was not an it."

"The second was a person?"

"Exactly. Actually, he was originally the most important element of Tarhelm."

"Who was it? One of the big boys?"

Ruderman, or Straeter, laughed. "A 'big boy.' Not at all. No, not at all."

A shout came across the water to them; the old man acknowledged it with an impatient wave of the hand. He glanced at the silent Keyes. "We will be submerging soon. Let me make this brief. The time, 1940. The scene, the Universum-Film Aktiengesellschaft cinema colony in Berlin. A popular actress disappears from view for a time. There is speculation, but nothing appears in the Party-controlled press. Actually she is in Northern Italy, where in December she is delivered of an infant. All in the greatest secrecy, because this news would have been a political disaster for Germany.

"As the boy grew older, and the early victories turned to ashes, it became even less possible for the father to acknowledge him. Later there was defeat and occupation to be considered. Early in 1945 it was decided to send him out of the country. A haven would be found, somewhere he could safely pass the years to manhood. When Himmler briefed me about it I thought it was a good plan. More, I thought I knew the perfect place for him to live. Unfortunately, though we got away from Germany in time, something went wrong. We off-loaded him in time, before your father attacked us, but the child was lost."

"Whose was it?"

"Her name is unimportant now. As I told you, she was an actress in Goebbels's UFA studios. Very beautiful, a tall, natural blond; a striking woman. She was often seen at high diplomatic functions before the war began." "And the father?"

Straeter shrugged impatiently. "It's all so long ago, so futile—it depresses me to think about those times. Enough talk! A patrol could fly over at any time." He gestured to the guard; the man raised his gun. Galloway felt for Bernie's hand, felt her stiffen beside him.

"Just a minute," said Keyes suddenly. "Just a minute. I need to tell you something."

"I have no more time for you."

"You'll want to hear this. It's about the raft."

The old man paused, his hand still lifted. After a moment he sighed. "The raft? Very well, go on."

'Tes. You haven't mentioned it."

"No, I have not. What about it?"

"This person-—this child—was on it."

'Tes, of course. That was how we planned to hide him. Here, in America, with English-speaking SS men as his 'uncles.' Where better? They would land on a deserted coast, bury the raft, and disappear in the population. They had money, documents, ration cards, everything I could think of. But something went wrong."

"Real wrong," said Keyes. "Especially for the four people in it."

"Three," said Galloway, without thinking.

"Be quiet, Captain. Mr. Keyes has something he wants to tell us." The old man's eyes glittered cynically.

Keyes braced himself. His face was drawn, his voice litde more than a murmur; he was holding himself erect with will, not strength. "There were four people in it that night. Weren't there?"

'Yes. Yes. There were."

"No, I remember when my brother's 'dozer uncovered them," said Galloway. "The paper next day said
three—"

"Shut up, Galloway! Let's finish this. Go on, Mr. Keyes. How do you know there were four?"

"It's the first thing I can remember," said Keyes, whispering now. The hypnotic, slightly protruding blue eyes slid closed, then opened. "I was real small. Four? Five? But I remember that night."

Straeter sat down on the locker, passed the gold-housed flame over another cigarette. Without looking behind him he gestured; the bodyguard, still holding the submachine gun, moved back to the stern, out of earshot. "Go on," the old man murmured.

"I remember leaving somewhere safe, where I'd been happy ... then fear, a long time in a cramped small bed. I ate from a bowl with an anchor on the bottom. Then I remember night. The smell of rubber. The softness of the bottom of a raft. And the way it swayed to the waves. The dark.

"Then we went ashore. The people with me spoke in low voices. I was lifted out of the raft and set gently on sand. Wet, hard sand. I was cold. Then I remember being frightened, terribly frightened. There was someone else, out there in the dark. They shouted at us in a strange language. Then the flashes began. The shooting. I don't know how it started. I was pushed down, someone pushed me into the sand, to protect me I suppose."

"What happened then?" said Galloway.

"One of the others, the men from the dark, found me there, took me away ... I woke up later in a house with a strange woman. She seemed old to me; she might have been middle-aged. She fed me. That's all I remember for a while. Then later there were my stepparents, and a new language to learn. And after that, my childhood. What went before it was like a dream, or something that happened in a nightmare. But I remembered it. I knew I had to, if I was ever to find out who I really was.