“Then Sigurd would really have to earn his paycheck.”
The ice pilot grunted again and reached forward to reopen the throttles. Soon the solid flow was behind them, and Kromer noted that even the seas themselves were calmer here, especially when the Captain took the wheel and rerouted their previously north-easterly course to the south.
A series of jagged black peaks formed the shoreline of the fjord that they soon entered. The wind had long since dissipated, and the sparkling, mirror-like waters were calm as a lake.
“You can see our destination just up ahead of us, Herr Kromer,” said the Captain.
“On the western shore of the fjord, beyond that flashing beacon.”
Charles Kromer looked in the direction that the captain was now pointing and easily spotted the beacon Hansen had mentioned. It took a bit more searching on his part to pick out the actual settlement.
Set at the foot of a mountainous ridge was a barely visible collection of manmade structures that made the remote outpost of Longyearben look like a bustling metropolis by comparison.
As they continued their approach, Kromer identified the settlement’s dock area, that wasn’t much more than a wooden wharf with several mounds of coal heaped beside it. A single road led from this pier, passing half a dozen white-washed, two-story structures that appeared to be dormitories. Other than several corrugated steel warehouses, this seemed to be the extent of the town.
As they passed by the beacon, the Weser’s captain pointed almost reverently to a single cottage that stood on the summit of a steep ridge of solid rock, that dropped straight down to the waters of the fjord below.
“That’s the Director’s cottage,” he proudly revealed.
“They say that its interior is furnished just like a Bavarian hunting lodge. Unfortunately, I’ve never been invited there to see for myself if this is true. Perhaps you will be luckier.”
“Perhaps I will,” mumbled Kromer as he peered up at the sturdy A-frame structure that overlooked the majestic fjord and the settlement of North Cape down below, Kromer left the confines of the wheelhouse and headed toward the foredeck as they prepared to dock. The air was cold and invigorating, and because the winds were gone, easily bearable. Several dock hands could be seen on the wharf. A large flag, fluttering from a tall metal pole, showed the earth with a golden star crowning the North Pole. The submariner had seen this pennant before, and knew very well that it represented the GermanArgentinian consortium that had bought this coal settlement from a Dutch concern over half a century ago.
He couldn’t help but grin as he scanned the dock and spotted a tall, fair-haired, middle-aged man in a long navy peacoat. Quick to also spot Kromer, this figure waved and called out in greeting.
“Welcome to North Cape, Captain!”
Charles Kromer waited to respond until the boat reached the dock. The deckhands officially secured the Weser, and as he climbed onto solid land, Kromer accepted his welcomer’s firm handshake.
“It’s good to see you again, Senior Lieutenant Kurtz,” said Kromer warmly.
“It’s been much too long.”
“It will be one year exactly this January” replied the former West German naval officer with a smile.
“Well, is civilian life all that it’s cracked up to be?” asked Kromer with a wink.
“I guess you’ll soon enough find out for yourself, eh, Captain?” returned Hans Kurtz who added.
“Do you have much luggage?”
“Only my seabag,” answered Kromer.
“Then let me get it for you, and we can get going.
The Director wants to see you at once.”
In a matter of minutes Kromer’s seabag was stowed away inside the boot of their black Rover, and they were on their way down the settlement’s only road.
“That’s some sea voyage from Longyearben, isn’t it Captain?” quizzed Kurtz as he guided the vehicle past the collection of dormitories.
“That it is, my friend. Though I must admit that I slept through much of it. Those Norwegian rescue boats are solidly built, and my accommodations were surely more luxurious than aboard the Emden.”
A grin turned the corners of Kurtz’s mouth at the mention of this sub.
“She may have been a bit cramped, but the old lady was really something special. Are any of the old crew still aboard, Captain?”
“The gang is long gone, Hans. Since you mustered out, the others followed in quick succession.
Even Chief Dortmund left me. Though your replacements may have been young and bright, there seemed to be something lacking in their characters.
Why, the majority of this new generation of submariners doesn’t even know what — it means to be a real German anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” replied Kurtz as he guided the Rover up into the surrounding hills.
Charles Kromer took advantage of the moment of reflective silence that followed to absorb the passing landscape. The road on which they drove had obviously been laid out originally for the coal mines that were dug into this ridge. He counted over a half dozen of them, all of which were currently boarded up. The very nature of this work caused a perpetual sifting of black dust to settle on the rock and snow here. But, in a way, this shroud seemed to fit well with the stark, treeless ridge that they continued to climb.
A switchback finally led to the summit of this ridge, and Kromer set his eyes on the A-frame cottage that he had seen from the boat. This structure looked much larger from this vantage point, and as the Rover pulled up in front of it, he saw that it had been built out of whole tree trunks. A trace of smoke curled from its stone chimney, while a massive rack of antlers was mounted above the door mantle.
Hans Kurtz put the vehicle into neutral, and without turning off the ignition, turned to address his passenger.
“Well, good luck, Captain. I’m certain that you’ll find the Director as full of life and feisty as ever. He’s really something for a man in his seventies.”
“You’re not coming in with me, Hans?”
“This audience is all yours, Captain. We’ll be together again soon enough — and then we can really talk about the old days.”
A bit confused by the arrangements, Kromer questioned, “But where are our facilities, Hans? I thought that the meeting was to take place there.”
A devilish gleam flashed in Kurtz’s eyes, and his answer was evasive.
“You’ll be seeing what this whole operation is about in good time, Captain.
Now, you don’t want to keep the Director waiting for you, do you?”
Kromer realized that he wasn’t going to be getting any answers from this end. Anxious to learn exactly what was going on here, he left the Rover and walked up to the entrance of the cottage. The door was fashioned from a huge slab of highly polished wood, and had an iron knocker in the shape of a wolfs head. Kromer rapped three times, and didn’t have to wait long until it swung open, revealing a shapely blond woman in a white servant’s uniform.
“Good morning, Herr Kromer,” she said in perfect German.
“We’ve been expecting you.” Smiling, she beckoned him to enter.
From the moment he stepped inside the foyer, it seemed as if he were magically transported back to the Bavarian foothills of his birth. Panelled completely in polished oak, the hallway was crowded with familiar bric-a-brac that included an authentic German cuckoo clock, a rack of stag horns, and an assortment of beautifully framed photographs of various alpine scenes. Several exquisite Dresden plates were also hung there, along with a collection of hand-carved walking sticks. The stirring strains of a Prussian calvary march could be heard in the background.
Kromer readily followed the young woman further into the cottage’s interior.
The room that he next entered was breathtaking.
A solid wall of glass allowed a magnificent view of the sparkling waters of the fjord. Glacier capped mountains could be seen in the distance, glistening beneath the rays of the rising sun. Two high-backed leather chairs sat in the middle of the carpeted room, turned so that they could take full advantage of the spectacular vista. Beside these chairs was a bronze telescope on a tripod. A stone fireplace with a blazing fire dominated one end of the room, and a well-stocked library stood on the opposite side.