Now Owen remained caged inside a Spanish truck, waiting for transfer to the submarine. Her father stood morosely next to a decrepit warehouse, watched over by a yellow-haired giant named Hans. And Jürgen was brisk and confident, reanimated by what he clearly saw as a second chance to make his mark in the Reich and work together with Greta.
He still wore his formal black uniform to emphasize his authority. Now he watched the motor launch from the U-boat putter to the stone steps of the quay. The submarine commander who climbed out of the boat declined to return Drexler's Hitler salute, instead coming wearily up the quay steps in worn sweater and stained officer's cap and offering a brief nod at the top. He looked tired, his eyes red from long hours. "Colonel Drexler? Captain Joachim Freiwald, commander of the U-4501."
"Greetings, Captain. You're the skipper of a very new submarine, I understand."
"So new I would swear the paint is still drying. I'm sorry for not being on shore to meet you but the timing of your arrival was unclear. And our orders were quite sudden. We ran the Atlantic gauntlet from the shipyards at Kiel and have been scrambling to provision since our arrival in Spain. All for an ultimate destination we've yet to be informed of." He looked at Jürgen quizzically.
"I'll inform you of our mission once we're at sea, Captain. The haste is necessary, I'm afraid. The war is at a critical stage and we're under a tight deadline."
Freiwald looked uncomfortable. "My orders from U-boat Command are less than clear. Only to take on an unusually large number of added personnel for an unusually long voyage. I've radioed for clarification of my instructions."
"There's no need. I take my orders from Berlin." He pointed to his SS contingent. "These men take their orders from me. And so do you, as these papers will make clear." An orderly handed over a folder. "We can't afford to waste time with jurisdictional confusion so I had these orders drawn up making clear my authority. And I'm in a hurry. I want us underway before dawn, Captain."
Freiwald looked surprised. "I understood our departure date as tomorrow night, Colonel. Some of my men are in town on leave."
"Your directive has just changed. Your men's shore leave must be canceled. Our success depends upon speed."
"Colonel, we've been working ceaselessly to commission and then provision here in Spain. My men haven't had any rest since— "
"Tonight, Captain. Time is of the essence. They can go ashore after we win the war."
Freiwald pursed his lips and opened the folder. There was enough illumination from a warehouse floodlight to make out the signatures and stamps. He closed it, his face a mask. "Yes, Colonel. Departure at 0300 hours."
"You can reassemble your crew?"
He shrugged. "I know where to find them. The amusements of Vigo are limited."
"Good. Next, the biologist accompanying us is a woman. My wife, as a matter of fact, though that is irrelevant to your treatment of her. Her expertise is critical to this mission and as a woman she'll need a private cabin. You'll arrange this, please."
The skipper blinked. "Submarines are cramped, Colonel, even our new Type XXI. I have a cabin, and there's the first officer's compartment. It has only a single bunk— "
"That will be satisfactory. I won't be sharing her quarters. My apologies to the first officer but I'm sure he'll understand. Now, I also want a compartment reserved for my nine Schutzstaffel soldiers and myself: perhaps the forward torpedo room. You'll reassign your crew accordingly."
"But— "
"And the laboratory space, it's been cleared?"
"That necessity has made storage tight and those cages— "
"The heavy weather gear has arrived?"
"Yes— "
"And we also have a prisoner. An American Intelligence officer, with critical information for our success. Where can we confine him?"
Freiwald looked even more confused. "Nowhere, Colonel. A submarine has no brig."
"Then just lock him somewhere. To a pipe or bunk."
The captain frowned. "Is he a threat?"
"Potentially."
"Colonel, that won't work. Not on a long sea voyage. He'll be in the way if chained to one place and it won't be good for morale. Submarines are more… casual than what you're accustomed to in Berlin."
"What do you suggest, Captain?"
"Where can he go? What can he do? Believe me, he'll never be alone in the confines of a submarine, especially with so many extra soldiers on board. We simply watch him."
There was a dissatisfied grunt. "Very well. Just keep him away from the woman. My wife, I mean. He's not to talk with her."
Freiwald looked more baffled than ever.
"That will be all for now. You can begin transporting my men and their gear to your ship."
"It's called a boat, Colonel."
But Drexler was already walking away.
Otto Kohl watched the submarine commander's discomfiture from a distance, secretly amused at the obvious friction. The U-boat chief had just been given a short course in the way Drexler briskly arranged the world to fit his own designs. Kohl had expected to be allowed to stay in Switzerland but Jürgen had ordered him to continue on to Spain. For a while Kohl had feared being impressed into the submarine as well, but there was no sign of that. Instead he had to stand like a penitent schoolboy in the shadow of a gigantic SS goon, watching his only child standing alone nearby, depressed and probably afraid. Her isolation shamed him.
Drexler, in contrast, looked positively jaunty, as if embarking on a pleasure cruise. It occurred to Kohl that his son-in-law had quite possibly snapped. The Nazi strode up.
"This is where we say goodbye, Otto." He kept his hands clasped behind his back. "You're a lucky man to wait out the war here."
"Simply a sensible one." Deciding to try one last time, Kohl gestured toward the hills of Spain. "It could end for all of us, Jürgen. You're beyond the reach of the dying Reich. Make a separate peace and just go. You've done enough."
"You still don't understand people like myself, do you, Otto?" Jürgen's voice had the disdain of pity. "That some things are more important than one's own brief spark of existence. That there are such things as country and duty and honor. That sometimes the individual sacrifices for the many."
"In the right cause."
"Your Fatherland's cause is the right cause. Always. You no more choose your Fatherland than you choose your family. And you no more abandon your Fatherland than you abandon your family."
Kohl was quiet. He was abandoning both.
"Destiny has put me at this harbor," Drexler went on. "Destiny has given me the chance to reverse the tide of war. God led me to that island as surely as if he'd erected signposts, and you and Owen Hart fell out of the sky like trumpeting angels. I thought it a nightmare, at first. Then I realized it was the solution to all my problems."
God, what a grandiose, self-important fool. "No one knows what God intends," Kohl warned quietly. "If you must take this risk, then do so, Jürgen, but please … I beg of you. Leave my daughter behind. You don't need her."
"Ah, but I do. Do you think Hart would help me without Greta as leverage? Besides, your daughter is a remarkably intuitive scientist. Time is of the essence with the Allies knocking on the West Wall. I'm counting on her ingenuity to give us a head start on our plans. And besides, I need her for one more reason."