“You’re a smart lad,” Dickie had said with a wink. “You’ll sort it out.”
“How are you, sir?”
Cole looked up to see Prentice hovering over him with concern.
“Okay,” Cole said and returned to his thoughts. Too big to hide? Hide it in plain sight. Whatever it was, hide it where no one would think to look, until it was time. Time for what? Why now?
Chapter 12
“Good God, Cole!” Commander Harry Hamilton shouted. “Are you mad?”
Sublieutenant Moore, standing uncertainly on his crutches next to Cole in the commander’s office, said, “Easy does it, Uncle Harry, you know what Aunt Mary said about your temper.”
“Don’t call me Uncle Harry, Dickie.”
“But what shall I call you, Uncle Harry? You haven’t disowned me, have you?”
Hamilton glared at Moore, who offered nothing in return except a weak smile. “I’ll deal with you later, Dickie,” Hamilton said. “I’m sure your father would like to hear about this.”
“Oh, don’t trouble His Lordship, Uncle. I’ve been such a disappointment to him all of my life.”
Hamilton returned to Cole. “Well? You’ve got something to say, I imagine? Something that would explain you disappearing into the night with one of His Majesty’s aircraft?”
“I felt it was necessary to observe the situation firsthand, Commander,” Cole said. “The photographs told me only so much. I had to see for myself.”
“The photographs were supposed to tell you only so much, Lieutenant Cole. That’s what photographs do. The rest of it would have been decided through channels.” His voice rose in volume. “Through channels, I might add, in the appropriate manner. You jeopardized your life and the lives of the air crew.”
“I felt that we had a reasonable chance for success, sir.”
“That was not your decision to make, Cole,” Hamilton’s voice boomed in the tiny office.
“Uncle Harry—” Moore began to caution.
“Oh, shut up, you little twit!”
Moore gave his uncle a hurt look. “Well, that was certainly uncalled for. Not even His Lordship calls me that and he has had ample reason to.”
“Cole.” Hamilton rose from his desk, barely controlling his temper. “This is a serious infraction. Serious indeed. I’ve had Coastal Command on the line all day wanting to know why one of theirs was commandeered by one of mine.”
“May I explain, sir?” Cole said.
“Explain? Yes, explain. That’s what I’ve been waiting for.”
“With your permission, sir,” Cole said, laying photographs of Leka Island on the commander’s desk. He relayed the significance of the small island and told Hamilton of his conversation with the Norwegian captain. He went over the flight and the existence of the massive camouflage netting system and the incongruity of the Germans expending resources to keep British reconnaissance flights away from an uninhabited island.
“Surely it was inhabited if the bastards were shooting at you?” Hamilton said.
“Unc—” Moore’s words were cut short by a curt glance from Hamilton. “Commander Hamilton, I believe Lieutenant Cole is on to something of immense proportion that deserves at least a proper hearing.”
“Go on,” Hamilton commanded Cole.
“The size of the camouflage complex, length, width, and height, suggests a capital ship of some sort, sir,” Cole said. “A large one. Larger than a pocket battleship.”
“Both Tirpitz and Bismarck are accounted for, thank God,” Hamilton said, his manner softening. “So we can certainly rule them out.”
“Yes, sir,” Cole said. “But what if it’s a ship that we’ve never seen before?”
“What?”
Moore laid a thick manila envelope stamped Most Secret on Hamilton’s desk and turned it facing the commander. He opened it and said, “You had better sit down, Uncle.”
“An H-class battleship, sir,” Cole said. “I think that is what the Germans had hidden near Leka Island.”
“H-class?”
Moore turned the folder around and began to read: “‘Displacement over sixty thousand tons, length over nine hundred feet, beam 130 feet, main armament, twelve 406-millimeter cannons in four-by-three placement. She has twelve 150-mm C28 guns in a six-by-two arrangement.’” He looked up. “At least we think she does. Most of this intelligence is subject to change, you understand.” He flipped through the pages. “She has a complement of 2,600 officers and ratings and an estimated speed in excess of thirty-five knots.” Moore closed the folder. “Almost makes one think that she could fly, doesn’t it?” he mused brightly. His smile froze when he saw the scowl on Hamilton’s face.
Hamilton studied the two officers before speaking. “Let me understand you,” he said, his voice low and cold. “You two think that the Germans have built and successfully hidden a ship the size of Scotland and that the Royal Navy and the Coastal Command, with all of the resources at their disposal, have failed to note its existence?”
“Yes, sir,” Cole said.
Moore gave Cole a warning glance. “I think that was meant to be a rhetorical question, old man.”
“Yes, sir,” Cole said. “I do.”
“Very well,” Hamilton said calmly, sitting down. “Where is it now?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
Hamilton glanced at Moore for his answer.
“That is the question, isn’t it, Uncle Harry?”
“There are regular reconnaissance flights over those waters by Coastal Command. If this ship exists” — his eyes dropped to the folder — “if she exists, she will not remain unobserved for long.”
“Sir, may I suggest—” Cole began.
“No, Lieutenant Cole,” Hamilton said. “You may not. You will return to your duties in Photo Ops. You will make no unauthorized journeys, nor will you exceed in any way those orders that bind you to this command. You may be young, Cole, but I expect mature decisions from the officers under my command. Sublieutenant Moore, you will do the same. I don’t want to hear any more ridiculous nonsense of phantom ships and mysterious islands. Dismissed.”
Both Moore and Cole saluted, but before Cole left, Hamilton said, “Cole. I had high hopes for you. I still do. But if you persist in unmilitary-like behavior I shall have no choice but to contact your superiors in America. They will, I’m sure, view this behavior rather unfavorably.”
“Yes, sir,” Cole said. He closed the office door behind him and met Moore in the hallway. They let a Wren pass before they spoke. Dickie took time to admire the slender figure of the young lady.
“Well,” Moore said.
“I hate being dismissed like I’m some sort of fucking idiot,” Cole said.
“Yes, it is all rather frustrating, isn’t it, old boy? I’ve gotten used to it over the years so that I hardly ever let it concern me. Still, you haven’t been cashiered or made to walk the plank or any of that nonsense.”
Cole said nothing.
“Cheer up,” Moore said. “Uncle Harry is generally right about things like this. I’m sure that our chaps in Coastal Command will find this blighter, and when they do, they’ll dispatch her posthaste.”
“Yeah,” Cole said.
“Righto,” Moore said cheerfully. He looked at his watch. “Party at Beth and Marie’s. Mustn’t be late for this one. Bound to be an available young lady or two about. Perhaps I should tag along after that Wren and invite her.”
Moore was nearly at the double doors, swaying uncertainly on his crutches, when Cole called after him.
“Dickie?” he said. “What if they don’t find her? What if she gets out in the Convoy Routes?”