The White Guns (1989) (39 page)

She raised her hand and watched him as he climbed into the little car.
He wants me and I know that I want him. It has never happened; it must never happen.

But her thoughts mocked her and she was ashamed at the way she felt. At the same time she knew she could not wait until she saw him again.

Marriott clung to the bridge wing and squinted through icy sleet which within an hour had reduced visibility to a few yards. Beside him, the
Herkules's
skipper, Kapitän Horst Krieger, peered up with alarm as the shadow of the
New York's
listing hulk crept out of the gloom like a reef.

For once Marriott felt that his knowledge of Kiel was a match for the German's, especially in its present state. It was strange not to have Heinz with him, but he had left Flensburg with the car after
Herkules
had received orders to make for Kiel.

Another ship to be towed out and dumped perhaps? Marriott shivered. He could scarcely believe that any sea could change so quickly. There was a bite in the air which took his breath away, and with the blinding sleet all around them it seemed like evening instead of noon.

Krieger remarked, 'Plenty of wrecks, eh, Herr Leutnant?'

Not as many as there were when 801 arrived,
Marriott thought. He said, 'We should be up to the jetty soon.' A green wreck-buoy winked out of the downpour, its bell clanging mournfully, as if for the dead.

Maybe they would stay here for a while? He would see Ursula as soon as he could get free from his duties.
Duties?
He grimaced into the stinging sleet. He felt more like a scavenger and scrap-dealer rolled into one.

He thought of the walk they had shared before
Herkules
had carried him out into the Baltic again. Along the beach of the Plöner See, through the dark green woods where they had found an old track and bridle-path, a reminder of better times when there had been horses here.

Once, when they had crossed a small stream, he had held her hand in case she slipped. He had not released it, even when two forestry workers had gone past.

She had not mentioned her brother again, even when he had pressed her. At first he had thought she was too worried to talk about him, but later had the feeling she knew more than she had told him.

A lamp blinked through the sleet and Marriott saw the end of the pier taking shape off the starboard bow. It probably seemed like matchless navigation to the crew who huddled in the bows with lines and fenders. Marriott was just thankful they had reached the bay before the skies had fallen on them, or they had been forced to make the final approach in the dead of night.

He knew the skipper was watching him as he moved to the wheelhouse voicepipe. '
Voile Kraft zurück! Ruder mitschiffs!'
He sensed the grizzled skipper nod, with relief or approval he did not know.

Marriott felt the power rising to take the way off the tug's forward thrust and saw vague figures moving along the jetty towards them.

'Machine stopp! Langsam fahrt voraus!'

He wondered how his stilted German sounded now to the tug's crew. He had learned the basic commands by listening and watching. At first, the seamen had stared at the bridge with astonishment, but now they seemed to accept it, as they did the only British officer on board.

'Machine stopp! Klar zum Ankern!'

At the jangle of the telegraph again the powerful engine gave a shudder and fell silent even as the lines snaked ashore, and the bulky tug nudged purposefully against her big rope fenders. He turned and faced the other man. Krieger nodded and said,
'Good,
Herr Leutnant! I prefer you to me that time!'

They both laughed and Marriott felt his voice shake as he gave the last order to ring off the main engine.

'Maschinen abstellen!'

He saw the bridge light up to some frail, watery sunshine, as, like a solid fence, the sleet moved away across the wrecks and the swirling grey water. Krieger's lined features lost their smile as he stared hard at the pier.

He exclaimed,
'Herr Meikle!'

Marriott saw the long bonnet of a staff car parked near one of the new cranes, then Commander Meikle as he stepped on to the wet stones. He turned up the collar of his raincoat before walking to the edge to watch the sailors passing up the heavier mooring ropes.

Meikle seemed to come to a decision, and as the brow was hauled across and secured, he walked very carefully on the wet treads towards the
Herkules's
bulwark.

The tug's boatswain bellowed,
'Besatzung stillgestanden!'
then saluted smartly as Meikle stepped down from the brow.

He returned Marriott's salute and commented, 'They don't forget, do they? To us she is a useful tug. To them, still a unit of the
Kriegsmarine!'

Marriott guided him into the small cabin abaft the wheelhouse and watched as the commander removed his cap and patted his iron-grey hair.

'I had to be in the yard anyway. Heard you were arriving, so I thought I might offer you a lift.' He eyed him shrewdly. 'From the weather reports it seems unlikely we shall have many more operations in the Baltic this year.'

A larger vessel surged abeam and the tug rocked heavily in her wash. Meikle swallowed. 'I
cannot imagine
what anyone finds enjoyable about serving in small ships!' He retrieved his cap. 'If you're ready, Marriott?'

Marriott followed him on deck again. Meikle had been as near to being sick as any one he had seen. It was almost unnerving to discover he had human weaknesses like everybody else.

Meikle watched as Marriott and the skipper solemnly shook hands before they parted.

He remarked, 'You do form the
oddest
relationships, Marriott.' The bite was back again.

They got into a smart staff Humber, while a Royal Marine driver bustled around with Marriott's small bag, opened and shut doors with the zeal of a Mayfair chauffeur.

Meikle sat back and stared out of the window as they picked their way along the dockyard road.

'Thought it would save time to have this talk.' He turned suddenly and said, 'You have been seeing quite a lot of Fräulein Geghin of late?'

Marriott said nothing. He knew by now there was no point. So that was what it was about. A reprimand, or a warning.

Meikle said calmly, 'She asked to have a meeting with me, as a matter of fact. About her brother – the one in Russian hands.' This time he did pause.

Marriott replied, 'Yes, she told me about him, sir. It's still not known where he is.'

Meikle tapped the marine sharply on the shoulder.
'Stop the car!'
He wound down the window and beckoned to a petty officer who was walking with some seamen along the road. Several of them were smoking.

'You!
You know the regulations, PO!' He did not raise his voice, but the petty officer was gaping as if he had just hurled a string of obscenities at him.
'March
those men! You're not a sloppy civilian just yet!'

The car lurched forward and Meikle said in an almost matter-of-fact tone, 'Fräulein Geghin's brother is in Swinemünde. She came to tell me that she had received some definite news from another former POW.'

Marriott looked at him questioningly. 'She asked your help to get him out, sir?'

'No.' He saw his surprise. 'She pleaded with me to make certain you were
not
sent to Swinemünde. She was afraid you would do something impetuous to release him.' He gave a thin smile. 'She obviously understands you pretty well.'

Marriott glanced away. 'Protecting me?'

'Yes.' His tone sharpened.
'Would you
have done something?'

Marriott faced him. 'I might have acted personally, sir. I can't say. But I would have had the
Herkules's
crew as my responsibility too. I couldn't risk having them seized, and the whole thing blown up into a confrontation between the two governments.'

Meikle regarded him impassively. 'What I hoped you'd say. I'm glad those pieces of lace on your sleeve mean more than
rank,
to you anyway.'

'So what can we do, sir?' He thought of her face when he had last seen her. She might even have known something when he had been at the hospital.

She loved her brother, and yet she was prepared to stand back for his sake. It must have been a terrible responsibility, a secret which meant far more than a gesture of friendship. At a guess, Ursula's mother, and her sister-in-law, the strained-looking Leisl, might already have put pressure on her to persuade her
British lieutenant.

Meikle was watching the emotions on his sensitive features.

'So it is true. You're not just using the girl?'

'No,
sir!'

'Don't jump down my throat, Marriott. I have to know.' He stared moodily at the glittering waters of the Plöner See as they turned on to the last lap for Plön. 'I might be able to help.' Again the brief smile. 'Not
officially,
of course.'

Marriott said, 'I suppose you think I'm making a fool of myself?'

'Not at the moment.' He nodded approvingly as a squad of Germans, still in their old uniforms, leaped to attention as the car roared past.

Marriott said, 'I think they're all scared of you, sir.'

'That
was
my intention.' It was so casually said that Marriott stared at him, remembering the tug's crew when Meikle had stepped on board. He added, 'But they also respect you, there's no doubt about that, sir.'

Meikle shifted in his seat as the barracks appeared at the end of the road.

'That too was the intended outcome. Remember how I came down on your ships' companies like a ton of bricks when you arrived here? Strolling about in your combat gear, like a bunch of heroes on show, eh?'

Marriott made to answer as he continued ruthlessly, 'Heroes are well enough in war. In the aftermath they can only create resentment, non-co-operation. How would you have felt if you'd seen Germans swaggering about in Piccadilly, clanking their Iron Crosses all over the place? You might have been wary of them. But respect? I think not. That has to be earned, and only by example!'

Marriott saw the sentry at the gate and the O.O.D. salute as the car swept through.

The word was out.
Commander Meikle is back.

'Word of advice, Marriott. Don't raise her hopes too much. She's a good girl. Let her down and you'll hurt her irreparably.' He waited for the marine to open his door. 'And you will have
me
to reckon with.'

They strode into Meikle's HQ section where several people were busy on teleprinters or peering at their desks.

Meikle snapped, 'I'll bet it's the first work they've done today!'

He thrust open his office door, just in time to see the rabbit-like Lavender on one of the telephones. 'For you, sir.'

Marriott noticed that the leading rate had vanished from his sleeve. He was a petty officer now.

Meikle muttered, 'I should hope so!' He snatched the telephone and snapped, 'Meikle?'

Then he looked at his writer while he replaced the telephone and said, 'Get my car back, at the double.' As Lavender spoke urgently into another phone Meikle said, 'You come with me, Marriott. In a way you are concerned.'

He picked up his cap and looked at it as his car squealed to a halt outside the building.

Then he added quietly, 'There's been a shooting in Neu-munster.'

Marriott almost had to run to keep up with him.