“You’re starting to become a regular around here with Noroil.”
Lawton grinned and picked up a wrench.
“Nothing against Norway, partner, but I’m starting to get a little homesick for Texas already.”
As the pressure in the bell equalized to that of the U-boat’s escape hatch, Magne reached down and pulled up the bell’s bottom hatch. A slight fluttering sensation in the ears accompanied this process. Facing them now was a circular, heavy iron wheel.
“Here goes nothing,” said Magne as he bent over and gripped the wheel.
It wouldn’t budge, and as Magne backed out of the way, Lawton violently rapped on it with the side of the wrench. This time both of them gripped the wheel.
“Okay, we’ll give it all we’ve got on the count of three,” instructed the Texan.
“One… Two… Three!”
Both of the brawny divers strained with all of their combined might, and the wheel gave with a loud, grating squeal. Yet before opening it all the way, Magne reached for their masks.
“We’d better keep these on, David. If salt water mixed in with the boat’s battery acid, that hull will be filled with lethal chlorine gas.”
Lawton slipped on the mask that covered his entire face and fed him a constant stream of pure air through an umbilical. He flashed Magne a thumbs-up, and reached down to finish opening the wheel.
It took both of them to break the seal. They yanked the hatch backward, and were met by a dark stairwell leading down into the sub itself. It was completely dry inside. Before either one of them could reach the battery powered torch that they carried along with them, the beam of a flashlight cut through the blackness.
This was all Lawton needed to see to rip off his mask.
“Hello, down there,” he called out excitedly.
Strangely enough, this greeting was answered by the angry barking of a dog.
The Texan bent down to have a closer look inside and was met unceremoniously by the long barrel of a pistol. As he cautiously backed away from the stairwell, the individual who carried this weapon climbed up into the bell to join them. This no-nonsense, middle-aged figure sported a graying crew cut, pale blue eyes, and a square jaw. When he addressed them, his English was heavily flavored with a German accent.
“If you’ll just proceed down into the interior of the submarine, my superior officer would like to have a word with you.”
David Lawton could tell from the way that he held the Luger that he was trained in the handling of firearms, and the ex-SEAL decided that now was not the time to test his reactions.
“That’s a hell of a way to greet the people who just saved your lives” managed the Texan as he reluctantly began his way down the tubular steel ladder.
The darkness quickly enveloped him. Yet as Magne joined him on the deck below, Lawton’s eyes gradually began to adjust to the poor lighting. He could barely make out the dimensions of the large compartment where they found themselves when the blindingly bright shaft of a flashlight hit him full in the face. A dog could be heard growling close by only to be overridden by the cold, deep voice of a man.
“Welcome aboard U-3313, gentlemen. Whom do I have the honor of addressing?”
Still shielding his eyes with his forearm, Lawton exploded in rage.
“Listen, buster. You certainly have a lot of balls. Here we go risking our necks to save your lives, and you greet us with a Luger and twenty questions.”
“My, aren’t you the angry American,” observed the stranger calmly.
“Perhaps your associate will be a bit more cooperative, and I won’t have to order Captain Kromer to show you what an excellent shot he is.”
Magne sensed that this character wouldn’t hesitate to give such an order, and he responded with no show of emotion.
“My name is Magne Rystaad, and I’m diving supervisor of the Noroil support vessel Falcon” “Magne!” cried an assortment of voices from the blackness.
The confused Norwegian looked into the black void, desperately trying to see where these familiar voices were emanating from.
“It’s Jon Huslid, Chief!”
“Shut him up!” ordered the stranger.
The dog began barking once again, and the sound of muffled footsteps could be heard in the background.
This didn’t deter Magne Rystaad from replying.
“Jon, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing down here, but hang on, my friend!”
At this point the blinding beam of light was redirected, and both Magne and Lawton looked on as the face of the stranger who had been talking to them materialized out of the void. It proved to be a face that neither one of them would soon forget — wrinkled skin,
cruel gray eyes, bald head.
“So, it seems that you know my guests,” reflected Otto Koch with a sardonic grin.
“It’s a small world all right, one that seems to be getting smaller everyday.
But it’s such coincidences that makes life interesting, and I shall look forward to hearing all about your relationship together at a later time. But right now, we must organize our priorities, the first being to get all of us safely to the surface.”
Anxious to get out of this cold, damp environment himself, Lawton turned to address his host.
“It doesn’t sound like we have much of a choice, do we, partner?”
Magne grunted.
“No, David, I’m afraid we don’t.”
“Then shall we proceed,” prompted the forceful voice of Otto Koch.
There were twenty-seven individuals and a German shepherd to convey topside. This included the members of NUEX, Karl Skollevoll, and Mikhail Kuznetsov.
Magne was truly shocked to find five of his employees among the crew, yet had to wait to get a report on how they managed to end up here, as his services were needed in the bell.
The first trip was accomplished with just Magne and seven heavily armed seamen, including the U-boat’s captain and senior lieutenant. Magne was warned not to inform the Falcon that anything out of the ordinary was taking place, or Karl Skollevoll would be the first hostage to die.
After reluctantly dropping the submariners off in the Falcon’s moon pool he turned the bell back to the U-3313. During this descent he shuddered to think what was taking place on the Falcon as these desperate, armed men spread through the ship to wrest control of it.
It took four more trips to get everyone evacuated, and when Magne eventually returned to the Falcon for the final time, his worst fears were realized. He found himself escorted into the galley where the rest of the ship’s complement was seated on the floor. Three of the Germans watched over the crew, with Uzi submachine guns held threateningly in front of them.
Magne was led into the adjoining wardroom, and it was here Otto Koch issued his demands. In exchange for the safe release of all the hostages, Magne was to return to the sunken U-boat and retrieve two portions of the vessel’s cargo. Once this material had been brought topside, all personnel not vital to the actual running of the ship were to be released on life boats.
Then the skeleton crew, together with the German submariners and their cargo, would initiate a voyage to South America’s Rio de la Plata. At the conclusion of this trip, the Falcon and its remaining crew would be free to go where they pleased.
If Magne refused to meet all of these conditions, the penalty was to be deadly simple. Every five minutes until he changed his mind, a member of the Falcon’s crew was to be executed, beginning with Karl Skollevoll.
To show that he meant business, Otto Koch pulled out his pocket watch, and informed Magne that he had four minutes and fifty-nine seconds before Karl would be shot. A bare thirty seconds later, Magne gave in, and agreed to immediately return to the moon pool to initiate the remaining salvage effort.