Crescendo Of Doom (40 page)

* * *

Aboard
the
Hindenburg
, Kapitan Adler was watching the horizon with his field glasses when he noted the curling black finger of smoke in the distance.

“We must be very close, sir,” he said to Admiral Lütjens.

“That could be thirty or forty miles off, Adler.”

“True, sir, but we can be there in an hour with our speed.”

“May I remind you that we steered this course to try and avoid the British fleet.”

“True sir, but what about
Kaiser?
They are well out in front of us. Why not send them in to have a taste. They can outrun anything the British have, even their cruisers and destroyers.”

Lütjens thought about that. He soon got word back from Marco Ritter as well—three enemy cruisers, five destroyers and one aircraft carrier—position, course and speed. One look at the plotting board told him that Adler was correct. He could send the
Kaiser Wilhelm
up to engage the enemy, and come right on their heels if he wished. If nothing else, that might drive off this enemy task force, and that smoke on the far horizon meant that their
Stuka
pilots off the
Goeben
had already drawn blood. He could see that Adler was like a shark smelling that blood now, his eyes alight, yearning for battle.

“No sign of those new enemy rockets, sir,” said Adler, waiting.

Finally the Admiral nodded his head. “Very well. Signal
Kaiser
Wilhelm
. Tell them to approach and engage at long range. If the enemy attempts to close the range, he is to steer three-zero-zero at his best speed and break off.”

“Break off?” Adler quickly thought that the Admiral wanted to go in for the kill himself. “Shall we turn to intercept the enemy now?”

“No, Captain. We will hold steady on our present course, and come a further five points to starboard the minute
Kaiser
indicates they are breaking off as ordered.”

“But sir!” Adler thought for a second before he spoke, realizing they were on the bridge, in front of the other crewmen, and recalling the Admiral’s earlier warnings. That turn would take them away from the fight, and it galled to think the
Hindenburg
was running now, running from a fight it might easily win. He turned stiffly, arms folded behind his back.

“May I understand the Admiral’s intentions?” Adler waited, a restrained anger still noticeable when Lütjens regarded him.

“My intentions have been plainly stated, Kapitan. We are steering for the Atlantic convoy routes. I have no intention of dueling with British cruisers, which should be two hours to the south of us now. We were late leaving Gibraltar, and now we have other business to attend to.
Kaiser
will lead the British off on a course that will make it impossible for them to catch up with us if they follow that ship. As you so correctly point out, they will then have the speed to shake those cruisers off and rejoin us. As for our battleships, we steer northwest for the open sea.”

It was clear that Adler was not happy, but he said nothing more, silently steaming behind his raised field glasses again. Lütjens is too old for this, he thought. He is too cautious, especially after we took those hits in the Mediterranean. Alright then, at least we have
Kaiser
out looking for a fight. If the British do have these rockets, we will soon find out. But one day the Admiral will have to realize that
Hindenburg
was built to fight the enemy, not run from them.

“Those
Stuka
pilots on the
Goeben
have certainly done their job,” said Lütjens with a smile. “Hopefully that hit will prevent the British from mounting further air operations.”

“Thankfully someone is doing their job,” said Adler, with just enough ice in his voice to make his feelings known. “Because the British certainly have no reason to fear anything from the
Hindenburg
.”

“I can see you disagree with this course, Adler.”

“I do sir, and I think it is not inappropriate for me to say as much.”

“Not inappropriate,” Lütjens rejoined, “but also not wise. Yes, I know you want to get those guns out there into action, and the thought of feasting on a wounded British aircraft carrier is very enticing. If the situation changes I will consider your objection, but for the moment, my orders stand.”

* * *

The
situation, as they so often did, was soon about to change.
Kaiser Wilhelm
was a very fast ship, capable of 36 knots, and it was soon a shadow looming on the horizon of Captain Christopher Wells.

When the sighting was first made by HMS
Sheffield
, steaming some 3000 meters off the starboard quarter of the carrier, Wells knew he had to act quickly.

“Mister Lovell,” he said imposing calm on himself. “The ship will come to our best possible speed. I know that won’t help the fire crews up front, but it can’t be helped.”

“Very good sir. Flight crews say they can get the first squadron of
Swordfish
spotted in five minutes, but we’ll have to come round into the wind.”

“That will put us at three-three-zero, but I’m afraid we haven’t the time just now.” Wells was squinting through his field glasses, trying to pick out details in the distant silhouette. The details, the details. That’s where the devil lived. He could see the tall central superstructure, but he did not think this was one of the German battleships. He walked briskly to the plotting table, where he fetched a printed card with silhouettes of all the known enemy ships. Somerville had informed him of the composition of the enemy task force, and he knew this was neither
Bismarck
nor
Hindenburg
.

So it has to be the
Kaiser Wilhelm
, he thought, quickly running his finger down the estimated specifications on that ship. A single note was printed where the speed would be indicated:
Observed running in excess of 34 knots during trials.

“Mister Lovell,” he said again in a measured voice. “The ship will come hard about and steer two-one-two. Ahead full. Signal
Coventry
,
Sheffield
and
Gloucester
to follow. The destroyer screen will make smoke at once.”

Chapter 36

“I’ve
sent instructions to the bridge,” said Tovey. “We’re all ready running at 28 knots, but we might kick that up a notch. I can have word sent to your ships to match speed, but there’s little else we can do for the moment. Let us conclude our meeting, and then we’ll slow to 10 knots for your departure. I think we’ve a good deal more to discuss.”

“Agreed,” said Fedorov, still struck by the realization of what he had learned. Signals from a future time! Someone else was trying to intervene in the course of these events! But who?

“These signals,” he said. “They were a warning of some kind?”

“Most certainly,” said Elena. “And now this gets to a part of the story that has been kept secret for decades. I suppose the easiest way would be to show you.”

She reached to her neck line, drawing out a simple gold chain with something dangling from one end. Fedorov could see that it was a key of some kind, looking very old.

“This key was necessary to activate the box we have been discussing. In fact, it was used to open the site where the device was found at Delphi. It was given to me, to be held secret until the day and hour I received instructions to use it. That was the day that sent my ship here.”

Fedorov looked from Fairchild to Tovey, but the Admiral merely shook his head. “Notwithstanding the fact that my name was in that box,” he said, “I can add nothing further. I know nothing whatsoever about that key.”

“But I do,” said Elena. “To begin with, this is one of several similar keys, and they all have a connection to a specific place, very special places, like that railway inn you described to me.”

“Ilanskiy?” said Fedorov. “Explain please.”

“That site appears to be a rift zone. That’s what we call these places—rifts in time. The signals we received were more than a warning. They contained… instructions, and something more, information concerning certain artifacts—each one embedded with one of these keys.”

“Artifacts?”

“Objects, some very old, and all prized in our day as works of art. Each one held a key, though I cannot name them all. Frankly, I was only told a part of this tale, the information I’m relating to you now. I knew there were other keys, but not their number, or where they might lead; what they might open.”

“Who told you this?”

“Our organization, the Watch. How they came to know about all this I can only speculate. My assumption is that those signals from the future revealed this information.”

“Then these keys came from there—from the future?”

“We believe as much.”

Of course, thought Fedorov. Rifts in time! Perhaps they were the result of that first event at Tunguska. The first cracks in the mirror, were not caused by the ship, not by
Kirov
or anyone aboard, but by that thing that slammed into the earth and exploded above Tunguska.

“Then there is a key that is somehow connected to the railway in I described?” asked Fedorov. “Is this so?”

“That was unknown to us,” said Elena. “At least it was unknown to me. I was aware of only two other keys. One was assigned—to a Keyholder—that’s what we are called. Anyone given a key to hold in trust is a Keyholder, and it is a very exclusive club. As for that railway inn, we knew nothing about it.”

“I have considered this,” said Fedorov. “When I realized what was happening at Ilanskiy, I attributed those effects to damage caused by that event at Tunguska, and thought there may be other similar places, other rifts in time. Then you know of two others?”

“I know they exist, but not much more. In fact, I had no idea what to really expect at Delphi. I was merely sent there, and told that I would need to use this key at that time. Oh, I had my inklings and speculations as well. We knew that one key opened to another passage similar to the one you describe at that railway inn. So I thought there might be a similar passage beneath Delphi, but found nothing but that box. Believe me, after I tested the key a second time aboard my ship, I was quite surprised at the outcome. But once I realized what had happened, I assumed it was all planned. Yet I could not see what I was to do here, aside from throwing in with you and the Royal Navy, Admiral Tovey. Now I think otherwise.”

“What do you mean?” said Tovey.

“Well,” said Elena with a sigh. “I told you I was aware of at least two other keys, but there is more to that. One was assigned to a another Keyholder. The other, however, was lost.”

“Lost?”

“Yes, in spite of its importance, it went missing. I suddenly realized that when I was trying to sort all this through in my own mind. Why was I sent here, I wondered? Was it only because your ship was here, in this time? This was my first guess, as I had long been standing a watch waiting for your ship to return. I must confess, Captain Fedorov, that your vessel was always regarded as a dire threat in my mind. My first thought when I realized you were here, was that I was sent to try and destroy
Geronimo
, sink your ship, and it took some adjustment to think of you as an ally. Now I finally think I know why I was sent here.”

Fedorov simply waited, his eyes on Fairchild, and the silence was thick in the room. Even Nikolin hung on her next words, waiting to translate, amazed to be hearing all this.

“The other key I knew about was found in an artifact retrieved from ancient Greece, a particular piece of artwork that was a part of the Parthenon. It was embedded in the base of the Selene Horse, along with other artifacts that have since come to be known as the Elgin Marbles. We learned it was there, at least this is what I was told, but it was never assigned to a Keyholder. It went missing, strange as that may sound. It went missing this very year, on the 27th of May, 1941. And as remarkable as it may sound, it was actually in your charge at that time, Admiral Tovey—at least in the keeping of the Royal Navy.”

“My charge? But I know nothing of this matter. Perhaps some other John Tovey, in some other time might be the culprit—the man you claim to have met in 1942, Captain Fedorov, but this John Tovey remains in the dark.”

Elena smiled. “That may be so, but I know for a fact that this particular key was loaded aboard the battleship HMS
Rodney
, right there in the Selene Horse along with other segments of the Elgin Marbles, and a goodly amount of the King’s Gold.”

Tovey raised an eyebrow at that. “The King’s business,” he said aloud. “So now I know what this is all about, and why
Rodney
was pulled from duty with Force H by the Admiralty. Are you saying their Lordships were aware of this key? They knew of its existence and significance?”

“I don’t think so,” said Elena. “Perhaps the curator of the British Museum might have had knowledge of it, but as for the Admiralty, no I think they just thought they were shipping valuables to safekeeping in Boston. That’s where
Rodney
is bound, is it not?”

“My dear woman, have you been listening in on Admiralty fleet signals traffic?”

“No Admiral, you forget that this is all history from my perspective. Strangely, in that history,
Rodney
was involved in a chase very similar to the one we now find ourselves on. It seems a coincidence, but I suspect it is something more. They say history does not repeat itself, but it rhymes. As we know the history, you and your Home Fleet were out after the
Bismarck
this month, and now here we are chasing that ship as well, and its bigger brother. That little twist could complicate things, particularly if this coincidence holds true. You see,
Rodney
was in the thick of the final action that sank the
Bismarck.
I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that, Admiral, but while the ruckus was going on, several pieces of the Elgin Marbles were knocked about, and one was slightly damaged—the Selene Horse—right at the base to reveal a place where the key was concealed. But the key itself was missing. It was never seen again after that engagement. When
Rodney
arrived in Boston, the artifacts were removed and stored. They were returned to England at a later time, and everything was accounted for—except that missing key.”