Dex nodded, then added, “Listen, I’m feeling a little awkward here. I apologize if we’ve done anything to upset your family or anything like that.”
Richard smiled. “Not at all. You did nothing wrong. My father’s always been a character, you know? You never get used to things like this, but you try not to let them surprise you either.”
A few minutes later, Dex, Tommy, and Augie were riding into downtown Lancaster with Jason, who had seemed to relax visibly after leaving his parents’ house.
“Manny’s Tap Room is the family business,” said Jason as he turned onto a main boulevard. “Bar and grill. I run it with my dad. But my grandfather and Manny opened it around fifty years ago. They built it up from nothing. It’s like part of the landscape now. Everybody in town knows Manny’s.”
Dex nodded. “Sounds like a good spot.”
“You’re right about that,” said Jason as he turned onto Prince Street and pulled the maroon SUV into a capacious spot along the curb. “Here we are.”
As they all climbed out, Dex saw that Manny’s was no hole-in-the-wall tavern. Big, with lots of windows and awnings, hunter fans and tiffany chandeliers. Typical in a sense, but homey and comfortable too. No wonder it buzzed with customers. Jason held the door and they all filed inside.
“Where’s your grandfather?” said Dex as they weaved their way among the tables toward a large bar.
“Upstairs. Used to be an apartment where Uncle Manny lived. Now we use it for offices. Come on — this way.”
Passing through a busy clanging kitchen dominated by a huge black guy wearing a floppy chef’s hat, they followed Jason into a short hallway leading to a staircase. It was narrow and lit by a single bulb above the landing at the top of the stairs. The dim, cramped space reminded him of the path down the gut of the old U-boats, and Dex felt a lump begin to form in his throat. A conflux of feelings washed through him as he realized he was going to meet a man he felt he already knew in a way few people ever do.
Jason reached the door, tapped lightly on it.
Slowly it opened, peeling back to reveal a thin, older man with deep, penetrating eyes and a stern, jutting jaw. He still had plenty of hair, and not altogether gray. Few wrinkles carved up his handsome features, and he looked like he was in his mid-sixties — tops. Hard to imagine he was close to a hundred — impossible, really. Dex had an image of the young, rakish Captain from his soldbuch photo, and it was obvious this guy was the same person. Some things about a face just never change.
“Hallo,” said the man in a voice full of resonance as he extended a hand in friendship. He was wearing baggy khaki pants, a plain white button-down shirt, and a sleeveless golf sweater with a Slazenger logo. “I am Erich Bruckner… and I understand you found my boat.”
Dex reached out, shook his hand. “Dexter McCauley. And yes, sir, I did.”
Bruckner grinned, shook his head slowly as if to dispel the weirdness of the whole scene. “Please come in. Let’s sit down and talk.”
Dex entered the room and introduced Tommy and Augie. Captain Bruckner grinned when he shook Augie’s hand — an instant bond of age and the wisdom of years formed between them. Everyone followed the Captain through a large room crammed with files, cabinets and a desk, and into another that looked like a den or a great place to spend Sundays watching football on the big TV in the corner. The floor thumped softly from the music playing in the bar below. Bruckner settled into the big chair with an extra pillow for back support, gestured to his grandson. “Jason, get us all something to drink. What would you like, Mr. McCauley? Tommy? Augie?”
“I’ll take a beer,” said Augie.
“Make that two.” Tommy held up two fingers.
“Bourbon, rocks would be great. And, please, just call me Dex.” He sat down in the chair closest to Bruckner and placed the backpack on the floor next to him
“Only if you will call me Captain.” The old man laughed. “Just kidding. Please… call me Erich.”
Dex liked him immediately. He remained as sharp and perceptive as he’d been all those years ago. While Jason disappeared back down to the bar, Bruckner asked Dex a quick series of questions designed to get him up to speed on how they’d found his boat, how it looked, and what had caused the accident.
Dex and Tommy provided the details as concisely as possible. They didn’t say anything about the attack and the people chasing them — not yet. Bruckner seemed pleased to learn Dex was also a navy vet, and expressed surprise the 5001 had remained in such good shape. But there was something couched behind the old man’s eyes which suggested there was more than just a nostalgic interest in his old boat.
“Tell me more about my boat,” said Bruckner. “You were able to get inside, yes?”
Dex nodded.
“You saw the plane?”
“We got up into the hangar, we saw it.”
“What else? What else did you find?”
Reaching down, Dex picked up the backpack, unzipped it to retrieve the steel box from the captain’s locker. “Well, we also found this…”
“Mein Gott!” said Bruckner. His English was so natural, the German expression sounded almost odd falling from his lips. “I can’t believe it. May I see it, please?”
Dex handed it to him and he was unlatching it just as Jason returned with a tray of drinks and some bar snacks.
“Jason, look at this…” Bruckner opened the lid and Dex could see him get lost in the vision and the memory of the last time he’d touched that box, the last time he’d closed it.
“What is it?”
“Pieces… pieces of my life,” said Bruckner. He reached in, picked up the fragments of his medals, his soldbuch, and finally his log. Holding up the last item, he showed it to Jason and the others. “Jason, this is the story I was telling you. Right here.”
“Amazing,” said Jason as he took the log, turned its fragile pages carefully.
Bruckner looked at Dex sternly as he indicated the log. “Did you read this?”
“I did.” He pulled his printouts from the backpack. “Had to translate it first.”
“Oh, of course. I forgot — it is in German.” Bruckner looked embarrassed as he spoke. “So, you know what we were sent to do?”
“Well, I think I do. I’d rather hear it from you.”
The old man waved his hand dismissively. “There is more. That is why I knew I must reach you. There is more I must tell you — just in case.”
Dex had picked up his glass for a small sip, but paused. “In case what?”
“Just in case anyone else ever visits that place again.”
Dex took a taste of his drink, leaned closer. “What do you mean? Why?”
“I am not sure how to phrase this,” said Bruckner. “But have there been any… incidents? Anything you know about?”
“What do you mean by ‘incident’?”
Bruckner shrugged. “Anything. Anything at all that might be out of the ordinary. Anything happening around the Greenland Shelf?”
Dex wasn’t sure what he meant. “You mean like now? Recently?”
“That is correct.”
“Nothing I know about. I mean, nothing you’d see in the news or the ’net.”
Bruckner held up his index finger like a teacher bringing up a single point. “No, I meant something you may have heard while in the Navy, something that would not be on the news.”
Dex considered this, shook his head. “Sorry…”
Bruckner picked up his bottle of beer, allowed himself a small swallow. “Well, regardless, I must tell you the rest of my story.”
“Believe me, I want to hear it,” said Dex.
Bruckner nodded, then gestured to his grandson to hand him back his logbook. Taking out his reading glasses and fitting them slowly to his face, the captain began to turn through the thick pages with great care.