Eye of the Needle(59)

Wohl looked at his watch. “We will wait until 6 A.M.,” he said easily.

It was not an order—Wohl could not give orders to Heer; but the bald statement of fact was still an insult to a superior officer. Heer told him so.

“We will both follow our orders,” Wohl said. “As you know, they originate from a very high authority indeed.”

Heer controlled his anger. The young man was right, of course. Heer would follow his orders, but when they returned to port he would report Wohl for insubordination. Not that it would do much good; fifteen years in the Navy had taught Heer that headquarters people were a law into themselves…. “Well, even if your man is fool enough to venture out tonight, he is certainly not seaman enough to survive.”

Wohl’s only reply was the same blank gaze.

Herr called to the radio operator. “Weissman?”

“Nothing, sir.”

Wohl said, “I have a feeling that the murmurs we heard a few hours ago were from him.”

“If they were, he was a long way from the rendezvous, sir,” the radio operator said. “To me it sounded more like lightning.”

Heer added, “If it was not him, it was not him. If it was him, he is drowned.”

“You don’t know this man,” Wohl said, and this time there was actually a trace of emotion in his voice.

Heer didn’t answer. The engine note altered slightly, and he thought he could distinguish a faint rattle. If it increased on the journey home he would have it looked at in the port. He might do that anyway, just to avoid another voyage with the unspeakable Major Wohl.

A seaman looked in. “Coffee, sir?”

Heer shook his head. “If I drink any more I’ll be pissing coffee.”

Wohl said, “I will please.” He took out a cigarette.

Which made Heer look at his watch. It was ten past six. The subtle Major Wohl had delayed his six o’clock cigarette to keep the U-boat there a few extra minutes. Heer said, “Set a course for home.”

“One moment,” Wohl said. “I think we should take a look on the surface before we leave.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Heer said. He knew that he was on safe ground now. “Do you realize what kind of storm is raging up there? We wouldn’t be able to open the hatch, and the periscope will show up nothing that is more than a few yards away.”

“How can you tell what the storm is like from this depth?”

“Experience.”

“Then at least send a signal to base telling them that our man has not made contact. They may order us to stay here.”

Heer gave an exasperated sigh. “It’s not possible to make radio contact from this depth, not with base.”

Wohl’s calm finally broke. “Commander Heer, I strongly recommend you surface and radio home before leaving this rendezvous. The man we are to pick up has vital information. The Fuehrer is waiting for his report.”

Heer looked at him. “Thank you for letting me have your opinion, Major,” he said. He turned away. “Full ahead both,” he ordered.

The sound of the twin diesels rose to a roar, and the U-boat began to pick up speed.





Part Four





19




WHEN LUCY WOKE UP, THE STORM THAT HAD BROKEN the evening before was still raging. She leaned over the edge of the bed, moving cautiously so that she would not disturb David, and picked up her wristwatch from the floor. It was just after six. The wind was howling around the roof. David could sleep on; little work would be done today.

She wondered whether they had lost any slates off the roof during the night. She would need to check the loft. The job would have to wait until David was out, otherwise he would be angry that she had not asked him to do it.

She slipped out of bed. It was very cold. The warm weather of the last few days had been a phony summer, the buildup to the storm. Now it was as cold as November. She pulled the flannel nightdress off over her head and quickly got into her underwear, trousers and sweater. David stirred. She looked at him; he turned over, but did not wake.

She crossed the tiny landing and looked into Jo’s room. The three-year-old had graduated from a cot to a bed, and he often fell out during the night without waking. This morning he was on his bed, lying asleep on his back with his mouth wide open. Lucy smiled. He looked truly adorable when he was asleep.

She went quietly downstairs, wondering briefly why she had awakened so early. Perhaps Jo had made a noise, or maybe it was the storm.

She knelt in front of the fireplace, pushing back the sleeves of her sweater, and began to make the fire. As she swept out the grate she whistled a tune she had heard on the radio, “Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t My Baby?” She raked the cold ashes, using the biggest lumps to form the base for today’s fire. Dried bracken provided the tinder, and wood and then coal went on top. Sometimes she just used wood, but coal was better in this weather. She held a page of newspaper across the fireplace for a few minutes to create an updraft in the chimney. When she removed it the wood was burning and the coal glowing red. She folded the paper and placed it under the coal scuttle for use tomorrow.

The blaze would soon warm the little house, but a hot cup of tea would help meanwhile. Lucy went into the kitchen and put the kettle on the electric cooker. She put two cups on a tray, then found David’s cigarettes and an ashtray. She made the tea, filled the cups, and carried the tray through the hall to the stairs.