Gently tapping on the bedroom door, Jason listened for a response.
“Ya? Who is it?”
Jason smiled as he heard the old man’s voice. Rather than the frail reedy peeps of most old people, his grandfather’s voice remained solid, full of timbre, still strong and confident.
Opening the door, Jason stepped into the room, which smelled faintly of medicine and liniment. “Just me, Opa. How ya doin’?”
His grandfather was laying back on his sofa, wearing a sweatshirt that said Nittany Lions and a pair of baggy khakis — because he thought the air conditioning was always too cold.
“Jason. Good to see you!”
“I brought you some coffee.”
“Coffee. That is good. Your mother keeps it so cold in here.”
Despite being in his early nineties, he still had most of his teeth and more hair than a lot of men half his age. Erich Bruckner looked lean and remarkably healthy as he stood with deliberate slowness. Age had not cramped his posture or his bearing, and he’d kept his weight under control by maintaining a careful diet. Smoothing his hair, he faced his grandson like a recruit acknowledging his drill sergeant.
“What brings you to me?” he said as he accepted the mug, brought it carefully to his lips.
Ever since Jason could remember, his Opa had always looked fit and strong, and his gradual slide toward a highly advanced age had never seemed dramatic because he’d looked pretty much the same for as long as Jason had ever known him. And there remained a light in his eyes that still burned fiercely — a beacon telling all that his mind remained ever sharp.
“Remember a story you told me when I was a kid — about Uncle Manny and how he served in a German sub?”
The light in his grandfather’s eyes flared more brightly, as if someone had thrown gas on banked coals. “Yes…”
“You told me the name was the ‘U-5001’. I remember because you said it was the highest number they ever used on a U-boat.”
“That is correct,” said the old man, as he moved to sit in a chair in front of his desk. The muscles in his jaw tightened. “Why are you telling me this now?”
Jason sat down on the bed, faced him. “Well, it seemed very important to you at the time. You said if I ever saw U-5001 written down anywhere, or if I ever heard anyone mention it… I should tell you right away. Do you remember telling me that?”
“Yes, I do.” He looked away, as if seeing something distant, then blinked his eyes. The old man took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “So, tell me — where did you see the name?”
Jason recounted the newscast, and as he did, his grandfather acquired an odd expression as if he were trying to see through a veil of thick fog, looking at something far, far away.
“Opa, you okay?” Jason tried to grin, failed. “What’s this all about?”
“I have often suspected there was a reason… a reason I’ve lived so long. But now I am thinking there may also be more than one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jason, there are a few things I need to tell you. Things nobody in the family ever knew…”
Jason looked at him with a growing sense of anxiety. The old guy was unnerving him a bit. Because English had been his second language, his grandfather had always spoken very precisely, but now there was even more formality in his words, and it was unsettling.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“A long time ago, I learned there was more to the world than I ever imagined. Since then, I have looked at things differently than most men.”
“Huh? What happened to you?”
His grandfather smiled. “Uncle Manny was not the only one in that submarine…”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I will explain,” said the old man. He was looking at something only he could see. “And after I do, I think I will want you to make a phone call or two for me — but not from here, and not from that little thing you carry around all the time.”
Jason looked at him oddly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I want you to use a pay phone, all right?”
“Sure… Sure, Opa, but why?”
The old man shrugged. “Maybe because I have been watching too many bad movies… or maybe because it is important. We will not know… until later.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” said Tommy. “Whaddya gonna do?”
“Who’s Bruckner?” said Augie.
“I can’t believe it. Bruckner has family here — in the states. His grandson says he left a message for anybody who ever found his boat. That just can’t be.” Dex ran a hand through his hair as he grappled with the new information. As soon as he wrote down the contact information for Bruckner, he erased all the calls from the Verizon service — just in case there was a way to access them, and there probably was.
Which made him consider something else. “Tommy, you have a house phone?”
“Yeah, but I don’t use it much. I guess I don’t really need it, you know, with my cell…”
“Is it listed in your name?”
“Yeah, sure. Who else?”
Dex nodded. “You got an answering machine?”
“On the house phone? Yeah, it was my uncle’s. I just left it hooked up, why not?”
“Who’s Bruckner?” Augie was completely out of the loop on the conversation.
Dex had to ignore him for the moment. “Any way to access the machine remotely?”
Tommy looked at him, shook his head. “Nah. It’s old as shit. Has a big slow cassette in it.”
Dex figured as much. “Hate to say this, but we have to get into your house. Even if they’ve got people watching it.”
Leaning forward, Tommy looked confused. “Huh? Why? What’s the deal?”
“The deal is this: Jason Bruckner tracked me down from the newscast. If he tried to reach you the same way, and left a message on your machine…”
“Aw shit,” said Tommy. “Then the bad guys will know as much as we do.”
“Who’s Bruckner?” Augie wasn’t going to let it go, so Tommy tried to get the old guy up to speed while Dex let all the variables settle into place. He’d always believed he was an analytical guy, but their present mess was making him wonder if he had what it took.
“Just thought of something else,” Dex said. “You have a spare key to your house?”
Augie smiled, smacked Tommy’s arm. “Your uncle gave me one thirty years ago — for emergencies and stuff. It’s hangin’ in the kitchen.”
“Good, we might need it.”
Picking up the Trac Fone, he wondered if the message could have been a trap. Could the people after them be so clever? Sure they could, but the Trac Fone would protect him from immediate danger. Hey, no guts, no glory, He punched in Jason Bruckner’s number, waited for someone to answer.
“Hello?” It was the same young voice on the answering service.
Evenly, Dex spoke. “This is Dexter McCauley. I’m trying to reach Jason Bruckner.”
“That’s me. Man, I can’t believe I found you so easy!”
That notion rocked Dex. How many others would find the task equally simple? “Actually, I was pretty shocked myself.”
“Mr. McCauley, I don’t know how to explain this, so I guess I’ll just start.”
“Go ahead.”
“The news said you found a sub called the U-5001, is that true?”
“Yes.” Dex’s pulse had jumped and his voice felt like it might crack. He never, ever, got a case of nerves, but he was getting one now.
“My grandfather knows that boat, and he said it’s very important that I get in touch with you.”
Dex cleared his throat, spoke quickly. “You said your ‘grandfather’…?”