The Aeschylus (5 page)

“The plan is to go in, secure the location, and set up a perimeter. Nothing will get in or out. Second priority is to find out what happened to the communications systems. Given what we've seen of the crane, it's possible it could just be a downed com tower. Regardless, our technician should be able to repair the damage. If not, we have the ability to communicate via cell
phone. Even if the sub-sea repeaters are down, we can fly over sea until we're within range of the shore.”

“Excellent,” Sinclair said. “And what do you need from us?”

“Aside from money?” Johnson said under his breath.

“We'll need blueprints, layout plans, a structural analysis of the underwater supports in case we have to look for tampering. We'll also need a complete employee roster so we can verify
identities if anyone is still there and in hiding. Or if we find any bodies, of course. Oh, and we'll need some basic instructions on the drilling machinery and power circuits in case we have to shut the place down more than it already is.”

Sinclair nodded. “You'll get everything you need.”

“Good. Then I assume we're done?”

Everyone stood up. Kate tried but found her rear end glued to her chair. She felt like she should say something more, should ask something more, but she couldn't. The wheels of the political machine were turning too fast.

Michael grabbed her arm. “Meet me back upstairs.”

As the crowd filtered out, Kate pushed into the nearby ladies' room. She looked at herself in the mirror, a question surfacing in her mind.
How far are you willing to go, kid?
The question had come unbidden, but here it was. The world was spinning around her, and she was caught in the middle. But as to the answer, it was simple: she would do what had to be done. She would go all the way. She would find what her father wanted her to find, because that's what this was about, wasn't it? He had left the envelope for her and her alone.

Several minutes later, she finished washing up and headed out, single-minded as she walked back to Michael's office.

Kiel, Germany:

December, 1938

Harald glanced up from the picture in his hand and looked out over the ford. The taste of salt brushed his lips, the breeze picking up on the water. He could just make out the train yard across the inlet, the silhouette of Kiel's opera house beyond. He could smell smoke and industry, the exhaust fumes of the harbor ships. It soothed him somehow. His father had been a shipyard worker for most of his life—until he dropped dead of a heart attack at fifty-two—and being here brought memories of the man. When Harald was young, his father would come to the dinner table covered in soot, still dressed in his blue work shirt and brown coveralls. He would bathe after, but never before. It was as if he were afraid his family would go hungry if they didn't eat the moment he walked in. Harald remembered sitting at the table, next to his mother and his younger brother Burt, and smelling the man. It was never strong, never enough to interfere with his appetite, but it was there: the faint odor of smoke and steel. Even back then, Harald remembered thinking it was the smell of what a man should be doing with his life.

“Do you think we're doing the right thing, Jan?” he asked, looking back to his companion.

Jan only grunted.

The other was a tall, wiry soldier in his mid thirties, as blunt and talkative as a stone. Harald could never sense how resentful Jan was that a man ten years his junior was giving the orders, but it didn't matter. Jan was the sort to take a bullet for a superior officer he hated because he believed it was his duty. And he didn't hate Harald.

“I can't believe we'll be away from our homeland for six months. Six months! God's fury, man, I never thought we'd be leaving this soon. I suppose it could be worse. We could be going overseas to Spain or Portugal for a year.”

Jan grunted again, flicking a spent cigarette butt over the railing and lighting another.

Harald smiled at the woman in the picture. The woman smiled back, her blue eyes shining so brightly they almost defied the black-and-white limitations of the photograph. He ran his fingers over the picture, remembering what it was like to run them through her soft brown hair. She was four years younger than him at twenty-three, and at twenty-three, waiting for someone could be difficult.

A cloud of smoke wafted into Harald's face, and he looked up to see Jan standing behind him, looking over his shoulder.

“You don't make any noise when you walk, Jan.”

“I guess you could say I'm always in character, sir.”

“Is that right?”

Jan grimaced, his beard stubble reflecting in the moonlight.

“Do you think she'll wait for me? She pledged that she would. But do you think women mean it when they say such things?”

“What do you think, sir?”

“She has never known another man besides me. So yes, I think she will. It's only a few months. Isn't that right?”

“Odysseus was away from his wife for twenty years, and she took him back when he returned from war.”

“I never read that one,” Harald said, reflecting on the small pile of books he had kept stashed under his bed as a child. It was one of the few, if tenuous connections he shared with the sergeant. “Did he have to do anything to prove his worth after all that time?”

“He had to murder the hundred and eight sons of bitches who had lined up to fuck her.”

Harald stared at him. “Do you think that was justice, Sergeant Eichmann?”

“Nothing worse than trying to take advantage of a lady, if you ask me.”

It was Harald's turn to grunt; the exchange was more than he'd gotten out of the man in weeks. He opened his mouth to continue, but across the inlet, he saw the beam of a hand torch flash. It was their signal.

He tucked the picture into his uniform and turned, motioning for Jan to follow. They began to walk south towards the highway through the pitch of night. When they reached the road, they only had to wait a few seconds before a black Mercedes 260 rounded the bend and slowed. A young man in uniform stepped out of the driver's side door and saluted. Harald returned the gesture, then climbed in the rear door and settled himself next to the prisoner inside.

“You don't have to be afraid of me, you know. I'm not here to hurt you or your family. In a way, I'm here to help you. You see, your presence here is a matter of national security. It's a matter of patriotism.” He waited. “I've been asked by my superiors to derail you from your current course of action. I am to remind you of your citizenship and obligations to The Republic. You were born a German man in spite of your... other heritage.” Harald turned to look at the prisoner and found him staring back, his eyes shifting uneasily behind his spectacles. His suit was a clean gray, all straight lines and angles. His thin mustache was perfectly even on both sides. Harald thought this was a man obsessed with detail, and perhaps, with appearances. A man such as this would not be difficult to control.

“My... my family,” the other whispered.

“Unhurt for now. They're in the car behind us. Your wife and your daughters will be safe.”

A loud
pop
came from somewhere outside. The prisoner spun towards the back window, his mouth agape.

“That was a pistol round. I've heard one before, in my youth. That was a gunshot!”

Harald paused. “Your driver. We had no use for him, I'm afraid. You yourself are quite fortunate. Treason is a capital offense, as you well know.”

“You bastard. You care nothing for the courts. Or the law.”

“It is the law that prevents you from leaving the country, Mister Kaminski. The courts are on our side, believe me. In this case, it doesn't matter. We are on a military operation, and I have been instructed to escort you and your family to Monkeberg Harbor.” Seeing the look of surprise on the man's face, he continued. “Yes, we know this is where you were headed, but I'm afraid your final destination has changed. You are no longer on course to Britain. You are coming with us.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“That is confidential, Mister Kaminksi. In fact, I shouldn't be speaking to you at all. I only wanted to introduce myself because I felt it would be beneficial for our relationship. You are not our prisoner; you remain a citizen of The Republic, as I have already said. You will be our mandatory guest for a few months, however.

“But ah! I have not introduced myself. I am
Oberleutnant
Harald Dietrich, and I am in charge of your transport.”

Kaminski spat in Harald's face, a thin, wet glob landing on the German's cheek.

For a brief moment, Harald considered smashing the man's nose inside out. In spite of his manners, Harald had been raised to discipline, and he knew how to dish it out. A few of his soldiers had learned that the hard way. Instead, he took a deep breath and wiped the spittle off of his face. Perhaps this man would not be so easy to control after all.

“I will let that pass. I understand you have had your plans laid to waste, and you are very upset. All I can promise is that I will try to make your journey as painless as possible. But make no mistake, you are coming with us tonight, and if you resist, your driver will not be the last to die.”

Harald shot a cold look through the rear window, then got out of the car.

It was almost midnight. They walked down a wooden pier that extended as far as the eye could see, watching as men loaded and unloaded various pieces of cargo under the glow of orange lamps. Harald saw sacks of grain and spices, metal artillery cannons, men in knee boots and overalls. A few old-timers sat on crates and whistled as they passed. The reek of sweat and poverty percolated the walk like dust. Then just ahead, he saw their ship.

At thirty-five meters,
The Adalgisa
was small compared to the others at the dock, but she still looked fierce. Narrow and feral, her two masts stood to the sky like fangs. Rust marks cut across her bow like battle scars. She had a single round smokestack, a barrel crow's nest, and a stocky wheelhouse made for equally stocky men. A massive harpoon gun at the bow completed the picture, looking too large for the rest of the ship.

The crew busied themselves carrying supplies below deck. As Harald neared, a man separated from the group and came to greet him. “Dietrich, my friend!”

“That's Lieutenant Dietrich, now. How have you been Heinrich?”

“I've been making a living. In fact, you could say I was just about to go on making one until I heard from your superiors yesterday.”

“Oh? Did you have plans?”

“Yes, I bloody well had plans! My entire crew is exhausted. Now we learn we're going back to sea without leave? I'll be lucky if I don't have a mutiny on my hands by the end of the night. Some of these men haven't seen their families in months.”

Harald grunted. “They're getting paid. And so are you.”

“Some things are better than money.”

“Money can be used to buy a great many more of those things that are better.”

The other softened at this. He tried not to smile. “Aye, the pay helps. This is more money than most of the men have seen at once.”

“I've never know you to turn down easy money. Whaling is a dangerous business, Heinrich. I thought this would be a vacation for the likes of you.”

One corner of the man's mouth moved. Then, without warning, he reached out and embraced the lieutenant in a great bear hug. “You're too smart for your own good, boy.”

Harald coughed, then laughed. It was amazing how quickly Heinrich had grown into the role of a ship captain. His beard was the color of iron now; it stretched over his face and down his neck. The light brown eyes that Harald remembered were much darker, tinged with the weight of a thousand hard decisions. Heinrich covered his thinning hair with a flat cap with a brown leather peak. It looked German at a glance, but Harald thought it more likely an acquisition from the territories. Like the man itself, it looked faded and gaunt.

“How are your men? Are they trustworthy?”

“It's just a skeleton crew to make room for you, but all of the men are loyal.”

“Excellent.”

“And you? It's time you introduced me to our new passengers.”

Dominik Kaminski stood at gunpoint behind them. Behind him, his wife Magdelena and his two daughters, Lucja, and Zofia. Sergeant Eichmann and the
Gestapo
agent, Boris Seiler, brought up the rear. Harald introduced them one by one.

“So you're the one they told me about,” Heinrich said, looking at Dominik. “I suppose you are what I expected. You can't always say that when you meet a man. Have they told you where we're going?”

“No,” the man croaked.

Heinrich laughed. “Then to Hell it is. We'll be going to the furthest reaches of the earth, my friend. We'll show you the sights of the damned, terrible things which drive strong men to
tears and weak men to insanity. Oh yes. We'll show you fire, and terror, and abominations from the lowest depths of the sea.” He threw his hands into the air and drew a few chuckles from the sailors. “They have seen the unspeakable coils of the Kraken and the many-headed Hydras and have lopped flesh and bone from their steaming carcasses before hauling them to shore, victorious! They are the monster slayers of our time, my good man, and you will see such horrors aboard this vessel to make you croon and cry for dry land. Aye?” he shouted towards his men.

“Aye!” a few of them cried.

“Heinrich, please,” Harald said.

The captain looked fairly at ease with himself.

“I demand to know where you are taking us!”

Harald turned to see Maggie as she stepped forward, past the soldier with the gun. He felt himself tense. “That is not—”

“Near to the southern continent, my lady,” Heinrich interrupted. “We are but simple sea-faring men, and those waters are our hunting grounds. We are being paid to take you to a pier of Mister Dietrich's choosing.”

“It is not my choosing, it is the choosing of our superiors,” Harald said irritably.

“Our children are here,” Maggie said. “You cannot force children on board a ship such as this.”

“I'm sorry madame,” Heinrich said. “I do not have a choice in this, same as you.”