The Hikawa Maru 2, a hospital ship, also carried Allied servicemen being repatriated, as well as other things more crucial to Operation Niji.
Nobukiyo snatched himself from his musings and put his mind firmly back on the mission in hand.
Commander Nobukiyo took up his seat and closed his eyes, displaying no nerves about the venture they were now engaged in.
After all, many German U-Boats had successfully done the same journey into the Mediterranean, and in times when the Allies were much more aware.
Now that peace, such as it was, ruled the world, the passage would be that much easier.
Nobukiyo certainly hoped so, for the Black Sea was still a very long way away, even with the Turks turning a convenient blind eye.
Perhaps, by the time it came for them to exit the Mediterranean and seek the freedom of the Atlantic once more, things might be different, but they would climb that mountain when it was there in front of them.
Until then, there was one small fact that constantly niggled away in the back of his mind, a fact he did not care to share with any of his crew.
It announced itself once more, and he felt a chill run down his spine.
As he conned his submarine into the blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea, his mind battled to put the fact back where it belonged.
He failed, and his processes suddenly all locked on to the one inescapable fact.
Once in the Mediterranean, no U-Boat had ever made it out.
However, that had been in time of war, whereas an uneasy peace had descended across Europe.
In Gibraltar, the peace was taken very much to heart, as the war had rarely visited itself upon them.
The arrival of two Japanese ships full of POWs and the sick caused a modest ripple across the Rock, but nothing more than that.
The patrols between Europe and Africa were still conducted, but everyone from admiral to the meanest civilian knew that the enemy had no navy to speak of and there were no conceivable threats against which they had to guard.
Which attitude greatly helped the ‘inconceivable threats’ slip quietly through into the waters of the Mediterranean, on their way to a secret place on the shores of the Black Sea.
0737 hrs, Friday 23rd August 1946, House of Madame Fleriot, La Vigie, Nogent L’Abbesse, near Reims, France.
“Meant to show this to you the other day, darling. Slipped my mind.”
She sat up in bed, allowing the covers to spill from her magnificent breasts.
“What am I looking at exactly?”
“A message for me that came from my godmother in the Mosel. Willi Bittrich gave it to me.”
“So what does it mean, Chérie?”
“Well, I can progress some of the way towards answering that, my darling. It’s from my cousin David… we used to write messages to each other all the time. All we did was simply reverse everything.”
“But it was sent to your godmother.”
“Schildkröte… it was my name for him… means turtle. I assume he simply sent it to somewhere that he knew would get it to me.”
Anne-Marie looked again and recited the message back to front.
“235U92-92KR36/141BA56-USPENKA”
“Exactly right, darling.”
“So what does it mean?”
“Your guess is as good as mine to be honest.”
She rose from the bed and stretched her lithe body, the slightest hints of their lovemaking vaguely apparently until she swathed herself in the silk robe.
“The thing is… David died during the last war… I mean that I was told he died in 1942. Nothing more than that.”
“And yet it seems he didn’t, Chérie?”
“No. I’ll ask around and see what I can discover. Until then that jumble of letters and numbers will remain a mystery. All except Uspenka, of course.”
“Why ‘of course’? What is it?”
“It’s a place in Russia, not far from Kremenchug. I fought around there back in the old days of ‘43.”
She lit a cigarette and tossed Knocke the pack, followed by the lighter.
“So, why would a dead cousin send you a note now about a place you fought over in in 1943?”
The smoke caught Knocke’s throat and his reply was cut off in a bout of coughing.
“A mystery worthy of Maigret or Sherlock Holmes, Chérie.”
She rose and moved towards the slipper bath, intent on making herself presentable before breakfast and her fiancée journeyed back to the Corps later that day.
Knocke sprang from the bed and swept her up in a bout of laughter and female giggling that ended in yet another consummation of their engagement, this time on the impeccable rosewood chaise-longues.
Madame Fleriot was late out of bed that morning, as were the girls, so, unusually, Ernst and Anne-Marie found themselves breakfasting alone, all save for Jerome, who fussed over the happy couple as always.
He topped off their coffees and removed himself to prepare more food for those who were clearly stirring in the rooms above.
The note sat on the table in front of the Deux agent, her natural curiosity and stubbornness driving her to extract more information from the text.
Frau Hallmann,
Hauptstrasse,
Haserich,
Mosel,
Germany.
AKNEPSU-65AB141/63RK29-29U532
Für-EAK
Schildkröte.
“The message is for you… not for your godmother… why for you?”
“Something I alone could understand?”
“Clearly yes… in as much as you understood it’s reversed text… and his childhood nickname… but you don’t understand it.”
Knocke shrugged and selected a generous slice of cheese.
Anne-Marie declined the offer of a piece for herself and carried on analysing the problem.
“So, it’s for you… because you understood the code… such as it was… and signed so that you alone would know who it came from… that’s important… he needed not to be identified by anyone else. And yet he was, in your words, a simple shopkeeper… although you think perhaps he was more… maybe this is proof that he certainly was?”
Knocke waved his knife to emphasise his words.
“Yes, indeed, Cherie. That much seems obvious. But what is the point on sending me something… specifically to me… if I actually can’t read what he’s written?”
Her reproaching look made Knocke realise that he was waving a knife at a woman who had a certain set of deadly skills, and who didn’t appreciate such gestures, even from the man who would be her husband.
“Pardon, darling. Just getting carried away.”
By way of forgiveness, she fluttered her eyelashes in a very un-de Valois like way, bringing a giggle for Knocke.
“Well, Cherie… that’s also obvious, isn’t it?”
The sound of running feet across the landing warned them that the girls were descending on the bedroom of Madame Fleriot, which meant that their discussion would soon be cut short.
Jerome bustled in with more plates of cheese, meat, and bread and the two waited until he was gone again.
“I think that he sent it to you so you could give it to someone else. Someone connected with you. Someone military?”
“Who I know, rather than me? Use my military connections… I can see that clearly. Right, then we both know who to show it to. I’ll stop off at his office on the way to Camerone, eh?”
She nodded as the door burst open as Greta and Magda escorted Armande Fleriot to the breakfast table, ending their discussions.