Lockwood looked back at the sea and found the Camilla. He made a minor course correction and opened the throttle as far as it would go.
Max Hoffman, standing on the bridge of U-509, spotted the Rebecca approaching fast.
"We've got company, Number One. Civilian craft, three or four men on board."
"I see them, Herr Kaleu."
"Judging from their speed and heading, I'd say they're the opposition."
"They appear to be unarmed, Herr Kaleu."
"Yes. Give them a warning shot from the foredeck gun. Shoot across their bow. I don't want needless bloodshed. If they persist, fire directly on the craft. But at the waterline, Number One, not the cabin."
"Yes, Herr Kaleu," the first officer snapped. Hoffman heard shouted orders, and within thirty seconds the first shot from U-509's forward boots-kanone deck gun was arching across the prow of the Rebecca.
Though U-boats rarely engaged in surface artillery battles, the 10.5-centimeter shell of the forward deck gun was capable of inflicting lethal damage, even on large vessels. The first shot sailed well off the Rebecca's prow. The second, fired ten seconds later, came much closer.
Lockwood turned to Harry and shouted, "I'd say that's the last warning we get. The next one is going to blow us right out of the water. It's your call, but we're no help to anyone if we're dead."
Harry shouted, "Turn away!"
Lockwood turned the Rebecca hard to port and circled around. Harry looked back toward the U-boat. The Camilla was two hundred yards away and closing, and there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it. He thought, Goddammit! Where's that corvette?
Then he picked up the handset and told Vicary there was nothing they could do to stop them.
Jenny heard the boom of the U-boat's deck gun and saw the shell flash along the waterline toward a second boat. She thought, Thank God! I'm not alone after all. But the U-boat fired again, and a few seconds later she saw the little boat turn away and her spirits sank.
Then she steeled herself and thought, They're German agents. They've killed my father and six other people tonight and they're about to get away with it. I have to do something to stop them.
But what could she do? She was alone, and her hands and feet were tied. She considered trying to free herself, sneak up on deck, and hit them with something. But if they saw her they wouldn't hesitate to kill her. Perhaps she could start a fire, but then she would be trapped with the smoke and the flames and she would be the only one to die…
Think, Jenny! Think!
It was hard to think with the constant roar of the boat's motor. It was driving her crazy.
And then she thought, Yes, that's it!
If she could somehow disable the engine-even just for a moment-it might help. If there was one boat chasing them, there might be others-perhaps bigger boats that could shoot back at the German submarine.
The engine sounded as if it was just below her, the noise was so loud. She struggled to her feet and pushed away the coiled lines and tarpaulins she had been sitting on. And there it was-a door, built into the floor of the hold. She managed to open it and was immediately overwhelmed by the thunderous noise and heat of the Camilla's engine.
She looked at it. Jenny knew nothing of engines. Once, Sean tried to explain to her the repairs he was making on his rattletrap old van. There was always something going wrong with the blessed thing, but what was it then? Something to do with the fuel lines and the fuel pump. Surely this engine was different from the engine in Sean's van. It was a diesel engine, for one thing; Sean's van ran on petrol. But she knew one thing: no matter what kind of engine it was, it needed fuel to run. Cut the fuel supply and it would die.
But how? She looked closely at the motor. Several black metal lines ran across the top and converged at a single point on the side of the motor. Could those be the fuel lines? Was the point where they met the fuel pump?
She looked around. She needed tools. Sailors always carry tools with them. After all, what happens if the engine breaks down at sea? She spotted a metal toolbox at the end of the cabin and crawled forward. She looked out the porthole. The U-boat filled her field of vision. They were very close now. She saw the other boat. It had moved off. She opened the box and found it filled with greasy, filthy tools.
She removed two, a pair of bladed pliers and a large hammer.
She took the pliers in her hands, turned the nose toward her wrists, and started hacking through the rope. It took about a minute to free her hands. Then she used the pliers to cut away the rope around her ankles.
She crawled back to the motor.
She put the pliers on the floor and hid them beneath a coiled line. Then she reached down, picked up the hammer, and smashed the first of the fuel lines. It severed, leaking diesel. Quickly, she brought down the hammer several more times until the last fuel line was ruptured.
The engine died.
With the noise gone, Jenny could finally hear the roar of the sea and the wind. She closed the door over the crippled engine and sat down. The hammer was next to her right hand.
She knew that Neumann or the woman would come down in a matter of seconds to investigate. And when they did they would realize that Jenny had sabotaged the motor.
The door flew open and Neumann stormed down the companionway. His face was wild, the way it had been that morning when she saw him racing along the beach. He looked at Jenny and noticed her hands and feet were no longer tied. He looked down and noticed the loose gear had been cleared away.
He shouted, "Jenny, what have you done?"
The boat, now powerless, skidded helplessly down the side of a wave.
Neumann leaned down and opened the hatch.
Jenny grabbed the hammer and rose to her knees. She raised it high into the air and hit him in the back of the head as hard as she could. Neumann fell to the floor, blood pouring from his split scalp.
Jenny turned away and threw up.
Kapitanleutnant Max Hoffman saw the Camilla begin to wobble helplessly in the rough seas and realized at once that it had lost power. He knew he had to act quickly. With no propulsion, the boat would founder. It might even turn turtle. If the agents were thrown into the icy North Sea, they would be dead in a matter of minutes.
"Number One! Take us forward toward the craft and prepare to board."
"Yes, Herr Kaleu!"
Hoffman felt the throb of the U-boat's diesel screws turning beneath his feet as the submarine crept slowly forward.
Jenny was afraid she had killed him. He lay very still for a moment; then he stirred and somehow forced himself to stand. He was very unsteady. She could easily have hit him with the hammer again, but she couldn't summon the courage or the will to do it. He was helpless, holding on to the side of the cabin. Blood poured from the wound, into his face, down his neck. He reached up and wiped the blood out of his eyes. He said, "Stay down here. If you come up onto the deck, she'll kill you. Do as I say, Jenny."
Neumann struggled up the companionway. Catherine looked at him, alarm on her face.
"I fell and hit my head when the boat pitched. The motor's dead."
His torch was next to the wheel. He picked it up and walked out onto the deck. He aimed the light at the conning tower of the U-boat and flashed a distress signal. The submarine was coming toward them with agonizing slowness. He turned and waved at Catherine to join him on the foredeck. The rain washed the blood off his face. He looked up, feeling it beat down on him, and waved his arms at the U-boat.
Catherine joined him on the deck. She couldn't quite believe it. The previous afternoon they were sitting in a Mayfair cafe surrounded by MI5 men and now, miraculously, they were about to step onto the deck of a U-boat and sail away. Six long, painfully lonely years-over at last. She never believed she would see this day. Never really dared imagine it. The emotion of the moment overtook her. She let out a joyous, childlike scream and, like Neumann, turned her face to the rain, waving her arms at the U-boat.