Crescendo Of Doom (39 page)

Now Elena told Fedorov of the note that had been found in the box from Delphi, and related it to the long history of her position as a Watchstander in the organization Tovey founded. Fedorov thought he had been the only one to make these revelations, and see the shocked expressions on the faces of those taken into his confidence, yet now he was learning something here that put him in that very same position.

“But how did it move your ship in time?”

“I can tell you what I think, though I have not taken a sledge hammer to the thing to find out. Alright, we both know that something very odd happened there at Tunguska in 1908. Whatever it was, left behind remnants, fragments, residue in the terrain of that area. Your Director Kamenski told us of this at Alexandria, and confirmed what we took long years of intelligence work to find out. This residue, whatever it is, was most likely in that control rod of yours. So it is my suspicion that it may also be within that device.”

Yes, thought Fedorov. It was just what he had suspected. A Tunguska fragment. Something about that exotic material had the ability to open time. This was what he suspected about the Devil’s Teardrop, and now it may also be in this device. But Orlov’s find was mere coincidence, something he just stumbled upon that ended up having an effect on time, and this history, in an alarming and significant way. It brought Brigadier Kinlan’s brigade through to this year, and that was changing everything, at least insofar as the history of the campaign in North Africa was concerned. But the box—the device—this was something more. It was not a random fragment, but something deliberately engineered…

That thought brought back the words of Chief Dobrynin. He had asserted the very same thing concerning the Devil’s Teardrop! He said he believed it was too perfect to be a random element. It was
engineered
.” His eyes widened, and he spoke quickly to Nikolin, eager to get the words out.

“We have a man aboard our ship who might be able to answer your questions concerning that box,” said Fedorov. “He is our Chief Engineer, and very familiar with the material we are now discussing. But one more question please. You believe this box was deliberately placed there, at Delphi, by this group you speak of—the Watch—the group that has been awaiting the return of our ship?”

“The note I found inside argues to that,” said Elena.

“Then they made this box?” Fedorov blurted that out in English, as best he could, eager to get on with things.

“That is one possible interpretation,” said Elena. “But there’s more.” Yes, there was always more, and now she told him her real suspicion. “Someone may have given the Watch that device, or simply placed it there themselves.”

“Someone else? Who could do this?”

Elena shrugged, deciding that she could safely set her reservations aside with this man. His sincerity was palpable here. He wants nothing more than to mend the damage he believes he has done, she thought. So then I suppose he needs to know. There I was getting miffed about that submarine. I owe him the truth, as least as far as I can see it. So she told him the other incredible tale, of what the Watch had learned in monitoring that strange signal traffic their ships were receiving at sea.

Fedorov listened, the lines of his brow seeming to deepen as he did so. Signals? Warnings? What was all this about? “These signals,” he said, “did you ever determine their source?”

“Not exactly, though we speculated long and hard about that. You see, the information we were receiving was, in itself, plain evidence that told us
where
they were coming from, yet that said nothing of who may have sent them.”

“Then you know the location? You were able to triangulate the coordinates?” Fedorov was eager to get at the nub of this mystery.

“Not exactly… I am not speaking of a spatial location, not a place we might find by longitude and latitude. To find these coordinates we would have to navigate another way—through time. These signals came from the future—our future. They were originating from years beyond our own day; perhaps even beyond the 21st Century! They related information on events that had not even happened yet, but then, four days after each message, these events played out exactly as they were described to us.”

There came a soft knock on the door, though to Fedorov it was as though someone had pounded on the gates of his soul. His mind reeled with the realization of what this woman was telling him.

 Tovey frowned when he heard the knock. He had given instructions that they were not to be disturbed unless… Now the interruption was more than a mere annoyance, it was another warning. He turned, eyeing the door, and then got up to open it. An officer was there with something in hand, and whispering softly to Tovey. When the man had finished, Tovey shut the door and turned to them again, holding out what looked to be a signals transcript.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said quietly. “It may be nothing more than a little coincidence, but we’ve just got a signal ourselves, though it originates from the here and now. The Admiralty informs me that Force H has a battle on its hands, with the Germans
—
no further details.”

Chapter 35

Details
… The devil lived there, or so it has been said. They were going to be most inconvenient for the men standing a watch with Force H that day.

The German task force had moved rapidly west, and it was only another strange coincidence that caused them a brief delay at Gibraltar. That port had proved to be a godsend for German U-boat Captains, and there were now six boats stationed there. Being much farther from England, it was relatively safe from RAF bombing raids, which would either have a long overseas journey, or a more dangerous flight path over hostile territory in France and Spain. So many U-boats that had formerly been berthed at Saint Nazaire or Brest moved to Gibraltar, where they prowled the straits, and also sortied out into both the Med and Atlantic.

Another ship was berthed there the night Lütjens arrived, the UJ-2210. It was an old French trawler, the
Marcella
, captured and converted into an undersea boat hunting ship, or U-Jaeger, and it was now in the proud possession of the man who would become Germany’s top hunter killer in that role, Captain Otto Pollmann. He had been out hunting that day, and had just completed refueling when the big flotilla came in. The sight of Germany’s largest and most powerful warship was a thrill, and he also took great interest in the sleek lines of the light carrier
Goeben
. Unfortunately his crew took equal interest, and when they had to move their trawler during the refueling operation for
Bismarck
, the hose became strained when the helmsman was gawking at the
Hindenburg
and failed to mind his station properly.

The trawler ran afoul of the hose, causing a fuel spillage and other damage to the fittings. It was going to cause a two hour delay in getting fuel into
Bismarck
, and those hours were used well by the British ships in Somerville’s Force H, as they now raced due north, intending to get into a good position to find
Hindenburg
if it sortied from Gibraltar. Those two hours were crucial, for if Lütjens had completed the refueling operation and left before dawn, as Adler promised, then the chances of intercepting the German fleet would have been very thin. As it stood now, things were quite different, but Force H was going to pay a price for its alacrity, as the German fleet was now a very dangerous enemy.

It was well after dawn before Lütjens was able to depart from Gibraltar, and at 14:00 he found himself off Cape Saint Vincent, Portugal, as planned, though they were well over the horizon to make certain curious eyes would not spot them. But not all curious eyes were landward that day. The Germans were soon to be visited by a pair of Fulmars off HMS
Glorious
, and Marco Ritter on the
Goeben
was to have a very busy morning.

It would be the second time that pilots off two opposing aircraft carriers had met in battle. Ritter was up in his ME-109T, and saw the two fulmars in a tight formation, some distance below. It was a perfect scenario for an ambush, and he quickly tipped over his wings and dove to attack. The resulting fight saw him down one Fulmar, which put up just enough of a fight to allow the second to escape. Ritter saw the other plane speeding away, and thought he might open his throttle to see if he could catch it. But he had been up too long that day, and low fuel compelled him to return to the
Goeben
. Yet he took careful note of the direction the enemy plane was flying, and reported it to the ship’s Captain as soon as he was aboard.

“Hans!” he said when he was again below decks to check on his plane. There was one small hole in the tail where the enemy had nicked him.

“Getting sloppy?” asked Hans Rudel.

“Oh that? It was nothing. Just a lucky shot. I was up and around on him in no time, and put him in the sea. The other fellow was smart enough to make a run for it. But now it’s your turn, Hans. Let’s get back up there and look for this enemy carrier!”

And they did.

Hafner, Brendel, and Rudel were in the only three
Stukas
aboard the
Flugdeckkreuzer
. Heilich, Ehrler and Ritter were flying escort in ME-109-T fighters. The remaining six planes were all ME-109s, and they would be retained for combat air patrol over Lütjens task force. Marco Ritter followed his nose, and it was not long before the six planes found what they were looking for. There was only one thing that gnawed at him when he finally spotted the enemy task force below—those damnable rockets. So far they had not seen their evil white tails in the sky, and now it was time to get those
Stukas
in for an attack run before they came.

“There they are, Hans! I’ll keep those fighters off your backside. Good hunting!”

* * *

Aboard
HMS
Glorious
the alarm sounded at 15:20 hours, not long after Lieutenant Charles Stewart came in with a badly nicked Fulmar. His mate, Eddie Shackley, was not coming home that day, and the word was soon passed to the bridge where Captain Christopher Wells now commanded the only capital ship remaining in Force H. Admiral Somerville was ashore, still on the Canary Islands coordinating an operation being teed up by the Royal Marine Commandos. So instead of planting his flag on HMS
Glorious
, Somerville was content to command from his desk in the Grand Canary Harbor HQ facility.

“Mister Lovell,” said Wells to his XO after he got the report. “See that Admiral Somerville is informed of this incident, and make certain he knows that Stewart thinks these were 109-T Messerschmitts. He says he could clearly see the arrestor hooks.”

“That would mean that new German carrier is about.”

“Indeed, and we both know what that means. That ship was operating as a forward screen for
Hindenburg
and
Bismarck
.”

“That’s why we’re out here, sir,” said Lovell with his chin up. “Shall I get a word down to the flight deck as well and get 823 Squadron up?”

“That would be wise but, as it stands, we’ve no fix on the enemy location yet.”

“If that German plane that ambushed Stewart was up on top cover, it would be a good bet they’re very close, sir. We could send 823 to the northeast to have a look. They’ve good range and loiter time in those
Swordfish
.”

“Very well. See to it, Mister Lovell.”

“Aye sir.”

Lovell was off, but he would not get far before the alarm was sounded. The W/T room had a message from their own top cover—enemy planes inbound!

Wells was out on the weather deck in an instant, neck craned and eyes puckered to see what was coming in. He heard it before he saw it, swinging around to see three birds of prey dropping from the sky, pursued by one of their own Fulmars, which was in turn being tailed by another German fighter. His close escort, the AA cruiser HMS
Coventry,
was quick into action with her five 6-inch guns able to double as AA guns, augmented by two 3-inchers, and two 2 pounders. The new octuple 2-pounder pom-poms
Glorious
had received in her last refit were also chopping away, one on each side of the flying-off deck. The sky was soon pocked with exploding flak, but the swift descent and high vertical attack of the
Stukas
made them very difficult targets to hit. My god, thought Wells. Where are our bloody fighters?

That was a most appropriate description at that moment. For Marco Ritter was a highly skilled ace, along with his two wing mates. Even though they found themselves outnumbered six to three, the German pilots had the better plane, and more experience flying in the heat of combat than their British counterparts that day. Two of the six men up above Wells task force were already bloody, Purdy and Moore, and Ritter was on the tail of the one plane that had managed to get near the diving
Stukas
.

It was soon clear to Wells that his luck, born on that hot moment when Hoffmann’s
Scharnhorst
had caught the ship in the Norwegian sea nearly a year ago, was now about to run thin. He heard the whine of the
Stukas
as they came, the Jericho trumpets screeching, and the whistle of falling bombs. When they fell he was horrified to see the first two straddle his bow, and then, seconds later, a third bomb came thundering down on the forward deck.

He braced himself as the ship shuddered with the hit.
Glorious
had once had seven inches of armor in that spot, where the barbettes of her big 15-inch guns had been mounted in a previous life as a battlecruiser. But those guns had been removed long ago, and now the deck armor was no more than an inch thick at best. The bomb fell just forward of the flying-off deck, where it dipped in a rounded downward curve. There it struck one of the QF 4.7 inch dual purpose guns, putting it out of action and starting a fire below decks. Hans Rudel had stayed in his dive those few extra seconds, and made certain his bomb would not miss.