The Berkut (78 page)

Brumm immediately locked the door, closed the curtain over the porthole, took out his automatic pistol, checked to be certain a round was in the chamber, and placed it beside him on a small couch. Herr Wolf retreated to the darkest corner and sat on a bunk, knees together, hands clasped in his lap. He looks like a frightened child, Brumm thought. Within minutes the man was asleep. The colonel looked at his watch; they should be raising the anchor soon.

132 – April 28, 1946, 3:45 P.M.

The boat in the slip was painted black and had no markings. During the war it had belonged to the Italian navy, who used it as part of their coastal defense setup and raced it up and down the coast. It was capable of forty knots and had been fitted with extra fuel drums to give it extended range. If all went well, it would enable them to reach Algiers, where an aircraft was waiting.

For crew, Petrov had Bailov at the helm, Rivitsky, Gnedin and Father Grigory, who had returned to report that Ezdovo and Pogrebenoi were safely aboard. The priest, for the moment an integral part of the Special Operations Group, was in high spirits.

They had no route to concern themselves with. They would follow the ship out of port, keeping at a distance, and would board only after Ezdovo and Pogrebenoi had done their jobs.

When the ship passed by the warehouse on the afternoon tide, the small boat backed loudly out into the harbor. Bailov set the throttles at a speed just above idle and listened to the screws burble in the water beneath them. They turned in a gentle arc and followed the ship out to sea, heaving slowly among crosswind swells as they entered open water.

13
3
– April 28, 1946,
8:00
P.M.

When Pogrebenoi could not locate Brumm, she became angry. Wherever she went, there were few men as tall as she, and none of Brumm's stature. After a while everyone began to look alike. In the corridors the odor of vomit was beginning to settle in. The sea was relatively calm, but the ship vibrated violently under the gentle swells and those with weak stomachs reacted naturally, creating a chain reaction. Everywhere she went she saw crowds of people on the decks using suitcases for pillows. It was chaos, a ship loaded dangerously beyond its capacity. On deck she counted enough lifeboats for only two hundred people, and the lockers marked for life preservers were packed with luggage. The ship was a disaster in the making.

After one of her hourly meetings with Ezdovo, she went down to a lower deck and walked slowly through the tangle of legs and bodies. There was nothing unusual, except that now the only language in evidence was German-different dialects, but German nonetheless. They were at sea, in international waters, under diplomatic credentials. Whatever fear the Nazis had suffered during the embarkation process
had disappeared; the open arrogance of some of them now shocked her and made her want to scream out the truth to them and watch them panic.

On each deck, Pogrebenoi strained to peek into cabin portholes.

In one she saw a tall man, but before she could study him, he saw her and closed the curtain. All the passengers are spooked, she thoughtwith good reason.

The ship wallowed through the water, riding low under the weight of its cargo. Standing at the port rail, she felt the engines throbbing through the poorly fitted metal deck plates. She wondered where Petrov and the others were and looked aft, but saw only darkness. She had never felt so alone.

Ezdovo was at the starboard rail, smoking. "Any luck?" she asked anxiously as she slid to the deck and patted it as a signal for him to join her. Their legs touched and she moved closer, not caring what others might see.

Ezdovo raised an eyebrow. "Conduct unbecoming a holy sister," he chided.

"I don't condone celibacy even for the party."

"I
n the cloth or not, it seems to
be our fate."

"Nothing is forever," Talia said.

"Nothing except this infernal ship. I've been from one end to the other and top to bottom. I can't believe we haven't found Brumm. He has to be here."

"Perhaps they're not."

"The hairs on my neck are standing up," he answered. "They're here; it makes sense."

"Petrov's conclusion."

"And mine. Petrov's reasoning is sound."

"Perhaps you grasp at straws."

Ezdovo stared hard at her. "I don't compound one error with another," he said coolly.

She knew he was still bothered by losing the trail in the mountains. "What happens if we don't find them?"

"We go all the way to Santiago and wait for Petrov's instructions there. It's our only option."

"An ocean voyage wouldn't be so bad," Talia said. "It might even be enjoyable. A holiday." She pressed her leg against his and he responded.

"On the floor?" They laughed.

"The problem is," she went on, "they're all beginning to look alike to me. What are we going to do, make a cabin-by-cabin search?"

"If we have to, we will."

"I'm tired," she said, moving closer to him.

"I want to tell you something," he said gently. "When we're finished here, I want you to come back to my Russia with me. It's far away from Moscow, a world away, a country of great mountains, deep snows and lakes-many lakes." She squeezed his arm and for a moment they huddled together, dreaming of the future.

But it was no time for such thoughts, and soon they separated to renew their search. Talia had taken only a few steps when it hit her, the sudden clarity of it causing her to grasp the rail and inhale deeply to regain control. Catching up to Ezdovo, she grabbed his arm fiercely, spinning him around. "I saw him," she said. Her eyes were gleaming as they had on the day they narrowly missed crashing in the Harz Mountains.

"Brumm?"

She nodded animatedly.

When they reached the porthole it was still covered. "He's
in
there," she said.

"Alone?"

"I saw only him. There wasn't time to see any more."

Counting portholes, they went around the corner and entered the corridor. A little black-haired girl in a navy blue jumper, her thumb in her mouth, was huddled against an older woman directly across from the cabin. "May I talk to you?" Talia whispered to the woman.

"My niece," the woman said. "Her mother-my sister-is dead.
Her father, too. We're all that's left."

"What's your name?" Pogrebenoi asked the chil
d. "Franziska," the woman
answered for her.

"You have a pretty little smock."

"It's new, Sister," the child said brightly in a tiny voice.

"Who is in that cabin?" she asked the woman softly, pointing at the door.

134 – April 28. 1946, 8:20 P.M.

The cargo hold was dark and Valentine had taken his time getting into it. If Ermine had really seen Brumm, he had to be on board somewhere. He began his search in the hold; there, to his amazement, were six wooden coffins, side by side in the aft area. Doubling back to see what the crewmen were doing, he saw that they were busy eating; he had time to investigate.

Moving back to the boxes, he tore one of them open, not worrying about the sound. The engines were nearby and the cargo hold was engulfed in an earsplitting din. Prying the lid of the first coffin lose, Valentine lifted the cover and stared. It was filled with guns wrapped in rags and heavily greased. He moved on to the other boxes and, sweating heavily, opened each of them. Four of them contained weapons, one of them paperwork, the last small boxes of jewelry and some paintings that had been carefully rolled up.

Having finished his search, Valentine went topside. He needed a smoke and some fresh air. Now he was certain that his theory about Hitler's corpse was a mistake; what he was looking for was the Fuhrer himself. Could it be true?

135 – April 28, 1946, 10:20 P.M.

The two Russians took up positions at either end of the short companionway outside Brumm's cabin. It was important to know if the
SS
colonel would venture out of his lair or sit tight. In the nearly two and a half hours since they'd found him, all had been quiet.

Ezdovo made his way past the sleeping bodies in the corridor and joined Talia. He checked his watch. "It's time. They're sitting tight. It's the first night out; they're still wary."

"What if they change locations when we stop the ship?" she asked. "It's a risk, but we both have work to do. An old tub like this developing an engine problem may worry Brumm, but it's not likely to make him do anything. He's got a good hideaway right now, and he's not going to give it up quickly. In any event, after you've done your part, you must hurry back here and cover the door in case they try to move. If they try to come out, use your gun to force them back; you'll have to keep them pinned down until the rest of the team boards to help us. There's only one way out of there; that's our advantage."

"And only one way in; that's their advantage," she said grimly. She had been in frontal assaults before.

Their hands touched briefly and she kissed him lightly, her tongue lingering in his mouth. "I love you," she said. His answer was increased pressure on her hand.

When they separated, Ezdovo descended into the ship while Talia's mission took her upward. Finding a seaman who spoke Italian, she asked if she could visit the bridge. He was Catholic, he announced; how could he refuse a nun, and a beautiful one at that?

At first the captain seemed annoyed at her presence, but Pogrebenoi soon charmed him and found herself in his chair with a fresh cup of Persian tea. She asked many questions about the ship's operation, but hardly heard the answers because she was evaluating the situation.

With her in the control room was a sailor, the captain and the first officer. A steward in a soiled white tunic was in a far corner, reading a newspaper. As she watched them she planned her attack.

136 – April 28, 1946, 10:30 P.M.

While waiting to board the ship, Ezdovo had watched earlier arrivals embark by gangplank directly up to the ship's deck, but he also saw that some cargo was being loaded through a large hatch above the waterline. Outside the hatch was a small permanent platform attached to the ship. Before Grigory left, Ezdovo had told him to guide the boarding party there; he would help them aboard.

Now, in a locker in the tunnel outside one of the hatches leading to the engine room, the Siberian found a metal rod and a roll of heavygauge wire. Using them, he secured the aft hatch so that it could not be opened from the inside, then entered through the forward hatch. In his pockets were four small canisters containing lethal gas.

A seaman, stripped to the waist and dripping sweat, accosted the Russian near the hatch. His mustache curved below his chin, and a gold ring was hooked through his right earlobe. He was sitting near a series of valves smoking a Turkish cigarette, and when Ezdovo entered, he stood up. "You can't come in here," the sailor said. "Off limits. You go," he shouted over the scream of the engines.

"I don't understand," Ezdovo said in German.
"Kein Deutsch,"
the man said. "English?"

"A little," Ezdovo said. He made a sign with his fing
ers. "Go up," the man said in a
heavy accent.

The Siberian ignored the order. "This makes the ship go?" He pointed to the gauges.

"Yes. Makes go," the man said. He was getting anno
yed. Ezdovo stepped toward him.

"Down, stop ship? Up, ship go?" The man nodded in exasperation. Nosy Germans. He'd give this one a quick explanation and get rid of him before the first engineer came after him.

"Like this," the Greek showed Ezdovo. "Up, go. Down, stop." Ezdovo smiled like a retard. "Down, stop," he repeated, then shot the man once in the throat and turned to the edge of the landing. Several sailors were below, all absorbed in their work. He pulled a gas mask over his head, tightened the straps and heaved the canisters into the engine room below. Only one crewman heard the canisters clatter; as he looked up, Ezdovo shot him, the silencer issuing a quiet grunt and causing the automatic to recoil in his hand. The man fell backward into a shadow, and as Ezdovo watched, spasms shook his legs.

He stayed in position until no men were left standing in the engine room; it had taken only two minutes for the gas to work. He let the second hand on his wristwatch make another full circuit before reaching for the controls to stop the ship. When he pulled the lever down, the engines shuddered and the vessel lurched and slowed to a drift in the sea as its screws stopped.