Hart woke slowly. He was woozy, his body sore. When he turned there was a rattle and he blearily opened his eyes. He had a manacle on his wrist, surprisingly heavy. A chain led to a stanchion supporting his bunk. The submarine was rolling, he dimly noted, its diesels drumming a steady rumble that pounded in his head. They were on the surface and moving fast.
"Well, hell." He tugged feebly on the chain, slowly remembering what had happened. It was a wonder Drexler hadn't killed him. Apparently, he really was needed.
"Wake up. You need to eat." The pilot opened his eyes again. It was a sailor who bunked near him. Jacob, his name was, holding a mug of soup. "You should stay away from women. They're bad luck."
Hart sat up painfully and sipped. The broth seemed like it was flowing directly into his veins. "My luck is due to change."
"Not on this mission, I suspect."
Hart sipped again. "We're past the destroyers? Running on the surface?"
Jacob nodded. "For now. But we had to release some fuel to make them think they scored a hit and we're rapidly burning what's left."
"I want to get out of this coffin."
"So does every man in the U-boat arm. Don't expect any sympathy from me."
Hart drained the cup.
"Good," Jacob said. "Now you go see the captain."
"I don't want to see the captain."
"That doesn't matter. He wants to see you."
The pilot lifted his manacled arm.
The sailor took out a key to unlock the chain. "The captain said to release you. If the colonel objects, he can take it up with Freiwald."
Groaning, Hart swung out of his bunk and followed Jacob to the control room. "Up there," the engineer pointed. Hart looked questioningly at the ladder. "The captain's on the conning tower. Here, take this coat and hat."
The tower well was shockingly cold after the long confinement in the submarine- cold enough to almost take his breath away. Then he inhaled deeply, sucking in clean air, and felt light-headed, almost intoxicated. It was glorious.
"Shut the damn hatch."
The pilot stood next to the captain. It was night. The U-boat was racing furiously through the swells, rocking with an easy gait as water foamed in a glittering rapid down the narrow foredeck. Hart hadn't realized how far south they'd come. The Germans were in a realm of lunar light so intense that icebergs glowed like the white mountains of the moon. The Milky Way was as palpable as a silk ribbon, stars and moon so reflective in the sea that there was an illusion they were sailing into the sky, or sailing upside down. They'd entered the Southern Ocean and he could pick out the Southern Cross. Antarctica lay somewhere ahead.
Hart pulled up his hood. Freiwald was leaning forward on the conning tower bulkhead to watch for ice while a sailor kept watch from the antiaircraft gun mount behind, too far to hear what the pair said. Out here it seemed as if they were the only people on the planet.
"We've made good time, Captain."
"These boats are incredibly swift underwater. And incredibly strong. We've just broken a depth record: that's why you're alive right now. If we had enough of them we could control the Atlantic." He shook his head. "But we don't. We in the navy knew this war was madness in 1939. Donitz told us to be prepared to fight for seven years. We'll be lucky if we last that long."
"Jacob said you fooled them with a release of an oil slick."
"Confused them at least. Our satisfaction may only be temporary. We no longer have enough fuel to get back and so I've had to radio for a milch cow- a supply submarine- to rendezvous on our homeward voyage. It was a risk to make the call. U-boat Command claims it's scientifically impossible to break our codes- and yet why are all my friends on the bottom? I prefer to stay off the radio."
"What are our chances then?"
"Perhaps you know better than I?" the captain said, searchingly.
The pilot laughed. "My chances are lousy. I make a hash of things in Antarctica even in peacetime."
"And now you're doing no better in war."
His irritated tone sobered the pilot. "Meaning?"
"I called you up here because it's time I learned what's going on between you and the Drexlers. I don't tolerate fighting on my boat. I don't like my thirteen new passengers. I don't like arrogant SS pricks pretending to command my submarine, I don't like women showing up where they don't belong, and I don't like my insubordinate American prisoner. I want to hear a reason why I shouldn't throw all three of you overboard before you cause more trouble."
"Well." Hart considered. "You can't toss me because I'm the only one who knows how to get into a mountain to fetch what Germany wants. You can't toss Greta because she's the only one who knows how to process the drug we're going to find. You could toss Jurgen. I can't see that he's any use at all."
Freiwald scowled. "Why did you go to the laboratory during the attack? You knew that wasn't your station."
"I didn't see how it mattered where I was. I have no combat duties on board."
"Dammit, answer my question! Why did you insist on seeing the woman after you were told not to?"
Hart hesitated only a second. "I'm in love with Greta, Captain. And she's in love with me. She's married to Jurgen Drexler in name only. We fell in love before the war on a prior expedition to the island we're going to. I was delayed returning to the ship, Drexler reported I was dead, and eventually he persuaded Greta to marry him. When I learned she was still alive I stole a plane, flew to Berlin, and convinced her to run away with me. As you can imagine, this has produced some tension among the three of us."
"God in heaven." Freiwald frowned. "Does the High Command know about this?"
"Of course not. If they knew the truth, Drexler would be in an asylum. But then so would half the High Command."
Freiwald threw him a sour glance but didn't dispute the point. "And you. Why do you go along with this mission? You feel no loyalty to your country, to its cause?"
"Quite the contrary," Hart said grimly. He paused, wondering how much he should say. Finally, he decided he had nothing to lose by being frank. "Captain, there's a famous proverb about a peasant who angers a great king, sufficient to have the king order his death. Just as he's about to lose his neck, the peasant yells out to the sovereign, 'Wait, if you give me an additional year to live, I'll teach your horse to talk.' The king thinks it over and, deciding he has nothing to lose, grants the temporary reprieve. Afterward, a friend of the peasant approaches him and asks why he's struck a bargain he obviously can't deliver on. The peasant replies: 'A lot can happen in a year. I could die. The king could die. Even better, the king's horse could teach himself to talk.' "
Freiwald smiled at the punch line. "You're amusing, Hart. Amusing and, I think, very much a wild card in this whole thing. You make me nervous."
"I guess I have to hone my relationship skills."
Freiwald shifted slightly to put his back to the wind. "This drug everyone keeps referring to- tell me about it."
"A drug to control a new plague. The worst disease you've ever seen. Jurgen Drexler wants to unleash it on the world. And he needs your help to do it."
"And you think this is wrong."
"I think it's evil."
"To obtain an antibiotic?"
"A cure is the only safe way to unleash the disease. Surely you've figured that out by now."
"Jurgen says there's more to his plan."
"Has he told you what it is?"
"No."
"Nor me. Captain, you mustn't help him with this."
Freiwald looked out at the icebergs drifting across the sea. "Have you ever been to Hamburg, Hart?"
"Yes. The earlier expedition left from Hamburg."
"Have you ever seen a firestorm? Its effect?"
He swallowed. "No."
"The British caused a firestorm in Hamburg. A city burning so hot that it sucks oxygen toward its center like a whirlpool. Winds so powerful they can sweep up little children. Did you know that in one night more people died in Hamburg than in your American battle of Gettysburg? Not soldiers! Women. Children. Old people."
"I saw the London Blitz, Captain. You're describing modern war."
"Exactly. And that's why Jurgen Drexler is no monster. He's simply a modern man. A modern warrior. Religion has been replaced with ideology. The centurions of morality are gone, the walls of order breached. We live in a barbaric age."
"Captain, if you follow Drexler to the bitter end I swear he'll kill you. His cause is disaster. Don't risk death for this man."
"I don't risk death for this man, whose mind and character I find dubious at best. I don't risk death even for our Fuhrer. But I do risk death for the Fatherland. I do risk it to save Germany. And I don't fear death. Do you know why?"
"No. Why?"
"Because I've already died, and the man you see standing before you is a ghost. You see, my family was in Hamburg that night, and they were roasted in that firestorm, and all the good in me died with them." He nodded. "So you will help us, Hart, because in the modern world terror must be met with terror."
"Somewhere it has to end, Captain."
"And Jurgen Drexler promises he can end it. So. Now you'll go below so Jacob can lock you to your bunk again."