Rogue Angel 55: Beneath Still Waters (22 page)

Rumor has it that M.B. will be arriving in late April to supervise the preparation for our leader’s arrival and if it is not finished by that point heads are sure to roll.

There were several more entries of a similar nature, noting the delivery of various supplies and commenting on the continued progress, but nothing that indicated where the base actually might be.

Still wondering what had happened to the boat and its crew, Annja turned to the last few entries, noting that they were much closer to one another chronologically. In fact, they were all dated the same afternoon, March 30, 1945.

1400 hours

Limped into port with our batteries all but depleted and with barely any fuel left in the tanks. We survived the depth charge attack 48 hours earlier, but just barely.

Tried to raise those at the base via radio to no avail. The usual reception party was absent from the pier as well.

Have sent Doerner and Fritz to the base to get extra hands to help us offload the supplies. With the engines damaged in the latest attack, we will need to make significant repairs. I fear we will not be going anywhere soon.

1640 hours

Sentries claim to have seen movement in the trees, but when a search party was sent out there was no sign that anyone had been there. Am uncertain whether the sentries actually saw something or simply let the shadows confuse them after so long aboard ship.

One thing is clear. Doerner and Fritz have not returned and I fear for their safety.

1830 hours

Shortly after nightfall the boat came under attack from an unknown number of natives. The sentries were killed and the enemy was in the process of boarding the boat before they were discovered. Four of the crew died in defense of the conning tower, but their sacrifice gave the rest of us time to take cover inside the forward and aft compartments and seal the hatches behind us.

I have ten seamen with me in the forward compartments, three of whom are sufficiently wounded that I don’t expect them to make it through the night. Have received reports that Sergeant Gorman and five others are holed up
in the engine room at the other end of the boat, but are almost out of ammunition. Am awaiting reinforcements from the base but fear the worst may have happened. Have already destroyed the code book and the Enigma device just in case.

2245 hours

The natives are trying to set fire to the boat! Have decided to try and get my men out while our attackers are otherwise occupied and before we die of smoke inhalation.

My plan is to send them out four at a time through the escape hatch, with myself and Lieutenant Pieske being the last to abandon ship.

The men have been instructed to swim for the south side of the cove and rendezvous there for the hike inland to the base.

That was it; after that, there weren’t any other entries in the logbook. If the captain and his men had made it out, they hadn’t come back in the years since.

Annja cursed in frustration. The boat had turned out to be a waste of time after all, for they were no closer to finding the location of the headquarters now than they had been when they arrived on the island. The captain’s comments suggested that the base was inland somewhere, but any reasonable person would have deduced the same. What she really needed—a map or at least a list of landmarks—was nowhere to be found.

And the clock was still ticking.

Garin found her there a few moments later.

“Anything?”

She shook her head. “A few references to the facility or the base, but that’s all. Nothing that can help us find the place.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Why’s that?”

“If anything, U-boat commanders were practical people. They had to be, to survive in one of these tin cans for any length of time. He knew where the base was and its location wouldn’t make a difference to his time at sea, so why keep note of it in the war diary?”

As much as she hated to admit it, Garin’s logic made sense.

“So how do you propose we find this thing?” Annja asked.

“The same way we’ve found any other artifact we’ve ever gone looking for—with our heads. You’re thinking about the clock and not about the job at hand,” he said, smiling to take the sting out of his remark. “Forget about Doug for a minute and just think about the base. It was supposed to be Hitler’s secret hideaway, right? A place where he could bide his time and come up with a new strategy but also one that would keep him safe should the Allies come looking for him.”

“Yes, I would think that would be the case.”

“So if you were him, where would you put your super-secret headquarters?”

“Not on an island in the middle of the South Pacific,” Annja retorted.

Garin waved the comment away. “I could have come up with a hundred better places, too, but that’s not the point. He built it here. This U-boat tells us that if nothing else. So put yourself in his shoes. What would he need to do it right?”

Annja thought about it and then ticked off a few points with the tips of her fingers. “It would have to be someplace that couldn’t be seen from the air in order to keep it from being discovered by Allied aircraft as they continued to fight Japan here in the South Pacific. It would need to have a sizable water source of its own, to sustain him and his flunkies for any length of time. And it would need to be somewhere that they could defend easily just in case worse came to worst and they were discovered despite their efforts otherwise.”

“Okay. So where do we find someplace like that on this island?”

Annja never got the chance to answer.

At that very moment, Paul called to them from outside.

“You guys need to come out here. Like, right now.”

Annja stood beside Garin and Paul feeling a strange sense of déjà vu as she stared at the tribesmen lined up on the dock, standing in groups on either side of the conning tower. It was almost as if the events described in the captain’s journal were playing themselves out all over again seventy years later.

Except this time, she was the one in the crosshairs.

There were roughly twenty tribesmen in all. They were short and stocky, well muscled, with dark hair and a deep Polynesian cast to their skin and features. They were armed with an assortment of spears, clubs, and bows, all of which were currently pointed at Annja and her companions. Many of the men had intricate tattoos on their faces and chests, reminding Annja of Maori tribesmen she had met in the past.

None of them looked particularly happy.

There was no way for Annja, Garin or Paul to go for their weapons. The minute they did so, all three of them would become human pincushions.

Option one was out.

Given that sealing themselves aboard the U-boat
had done nothing to save the U-boat commander and his men, Annja decided that option two was out as well.

That left option three. She smiled broadly, waved at the tribesmen, and said, “Hi there,” in the friendliest voice she could muster.

The tribesmen stared at her without saying anything.

Annja was suddenly overcome with the urge to say, “Take me to your leader” but wisely clamped her mouth shut before it could slip out.

She didn’t think her sense of humor would be appreciated.

Garin whispered to her. “What are you doing?”

She ignored him, her eyes on the men in front of her.

The largest of the tribesmen standing on the pier stepped forward. He said something in a language that Annja didn’t understand, staring up at them as he did so.

Annja shrugged in response, having no idea what he’d said.

That seemed to anger him, for he said something in a more forceful tone and with a wave of his spear indicated that the three of them should come down from the conning tower.

Annja wasn’t so sure that was a good idea, but she didn’t see that they had much choice.

“Annja, his arm! Look at his left arm!” Garin whispered.

She did so and at first wasn’t sure what Garin was
referring to. So he had biceps as big around as her thigh, so what? But then he waved his spear at them again, this time a bit more impatiently than the last, and Annja saw what had gotten Garin excited.

Around his biceps was a faded red armband bearing a white circle with a swastika in the center!

On a whim Annja addressed the leader in German. “Do you understand me?” she asked.

The weapons that had been pointed at Garin and Paul were suddenly shifted in her direction and the tribesmen began whispering to one another in an agitated manner.

It wasn’t quite the response she’d been hoping for.

Before she could say anything more, the man with the armband barked out a command to the others. The group to the left of the conning tower moved in closer and with their weapons made it clear that Annja and the others were to come down.

When Annja hesitated, one of them jabbed at her with his spear.

That prompted Garin to step forward to defend her, which only served to further rile the tribesmen. Several of them were shouting and brandishing their weapons now, and it looked as if things were about to get seriously out of control.

Thinking quickly, Annja held her arms over her head and said, “Okay, okay. Relax. We’ll come with you.” As before, she said it in German.

At least the leader understood, for he barked out another order and those closest to them backed off,
giving them room to come down from the conning tower and onto the deck.

No sooner had they done so than the tribesmen moved in, grabbing their arms and pulling them down to their knees. Spears and arrows were thrust in their faces with what could only have been an order not to move as one of the warriors stepped forward and bound their hands behind their backs.

“I think you’re making them angry,” Garin said, which only served to get him cuffed on the side of the head by the nearest tribesmen.

Annja gave him her best “trust me” expression, but she wasn’t sure that he understood. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that trust was a scarce commodity between them.

Once their hands were secure, the same tribesmen patted them down. He did a better job than Stuggart’s guards had in Paris, for he found both Garin’s and Paul’s weapons. Both of them were handed to the leader, who glanced at them and threw them into the lagoon. The tribesmen dragged them to their feet and led them off the boat and onto the pier. Several of the other men disappeared into the U-boat and returned moments later carrying the captain’s journal, as well as Annja’s scuba equipment and the duffel bag of tools that they’d brought with them.

The rope holding the hatch was cut, allowing it to slam shut with a bang. Apparently satisfied that he’d taken care of everything that needed to be taken care of, the leader turned on his heel and began walking
down the pier in the direction of the jungle, shouting an order over his shoulder as he went.

It didn’t take much to figure out what that order had been, for the other tribesmen moved in on the three captives, dragging them to their feet and pushing them in the same direction.

Guess they want us to follow him
, Annja thought as moved forward.

Behind her, Garin and Paul followed suit.

* * *

T
HE TRIBESMEN MARCHED
them across the beach and into the jungle, following a path that Annja couldn’t see amid the deep undergrowth, but that they seemed to have no trouble finding. They moved deeper into the interior with every step they took, and soon the sound of the crashing surf was lost far behind them. Anytime Annja or the others tried to speak, they were quickly whacked in the head by the nearest tribesman and they soon learned to keep their mouths shut.

They’d been walking for about two hours, heading north the entire time, when the leader called for a short break. Annja, Garin and Paul were forced to the ground with the tribesmen standing in a circle around them. Water jugs were produced and passed around, and even the prisoners were allowed to drink. All too quickly they were pulled back to their feet and the hike began anew, but this time they headed northeast.

Shortly thereafter Annja noticed that the trail was growing steeper, and it was clear that they were now climbing upward.

She tried to keep track of where they were going,
but soon the physical effort took its toll and it was all she could do to keep trudging along, following the tribesman in front of her, and doing her best to stay on her feet. All the activity over the past week had sapped her usual reserves, and she found herself on shaky legs when they stopped for another water break several hours later.

This time the tribesmen were a little more lax in watching the prisoners, and they were able to sit close and whisper to one another. From Annja’s perspective, it was almost as if the tribesmen knew that the physical exertions of the past hours had done more to effectively quell any thoughts of escape than their weapons or presence could.

“Who do you think these guys are?” Paul asked quietly.

Annja kept her face pointed downward so none of the tribesmen would see her lips moving as she said, “Indigenous islanders would be my guess.”

“And that guy with the Nazi armband? What do you think that is for?”

Annja shrugged.

The truth was that she had two different thoughts on that armband. On one hand was the possibility that, back in the day, the tribesmen had been influenced by the men who had come to the island to build Hitler’s headquarters. The Germans had worn the armbands and so now the leader of the tribesmen wore one, too. On the other hand, perhaps the tribesmen had slaughtered the Germans, who they saw as invaders of their land, and the current leader now
wore the armband as a symbol of his ancestors’ power and prestige in conquering them.

In her view, it was fifty-fifty, either way.

Another few gulps of water, five minutes more of rest, then they were being pulled to their feet for what turned out to be the final leg of their journey.

They trudged upward for another hour until all of a sudden they broke free of the undergrowth and found themselves standing on a promontory high above the island, looking out over the open caldera of the extinct volcano that formed the center of the island.