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“No, you stay here, I’ll be okay, I’m looking forward to seeing the old rogue. After all we’ve not seen each other for well over three years, which means that we’ve got an awful lot of catching up to do.”

“Well, only if you’re sure, Pops,” she gave him a wan smile. “But, I’ll have no arguments. I’m packing your overnight bag for you, whether you like it or not. I know what you’re like, you’re bound to forget something or other. Come on, lets get back home and start sorting you out.”

* * *

The helicopter flight up to London was uneventful except for strong headwinds that held them back over the channel, so that the landing at city heli-pad was later than Nathan had anticipated, around five o’clock. Walking out into the main foyer, he spotted a uniformed chauffeur standing by a big silver Mercedes saloon. A small board in his hand with the name Cunningham, type written across the middle of it. Nathan was greeted, and the rear door opened for him.

Luxurious soft leather wrapped itself around him as he sat back and enjoyed the opulence of the vehicle’s interior. He opened the case, and browsed through it for a while, not just the U-boat log but the routine documents, and the two letters. It was these that intrigued him the most, with their reference to the mystical spear that the submarine was transporting.

He closed the case and put it back into his overnight bag. The journey across to the other side of the city would take no more than forty-five minutes, and as the car made its way slowly through the late afternoon traffic, Nathan stared out of the darkened glass window. His thoughts were with U-683, and that final ending inside the cavern.

Why had Korvetenkapitan’s Otto Sternberg been ordered to Jersey, and what had happened to his crew? Another strange thing was the amount of damage caused to the submarine’s superstructure. What had taken place all those years ago, on that last day of the war? The car stopped, the chauffeur got out, and opened the rear door.

Chapter Three

LONDON

It was just before six o’clock when the internal telephone on Edward Levenson-Jones’ desk started to ring. Guy Roberts informed him that Commander Cunningham had just entered the building through the private side entrance, and was in the elevator that would bring him down to the Special Projects Department of Ferran & Cardini International. LJ stood in front of the metallic doors waiting to greet his old friend, who appeared a moment later with his overnight bag in one hand, and the bright silver aluminium briefcase in the other.

“Nathan you old sea dog, it’s good to see you. That Jersey air must be agreeable, you look absolutely great, old son. Come on through to my office. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” LJ said, as he guided him across the department to his private office suite.

“It’s so good to see you again, LJ. And a cup of tea would be fine, thank you.”

“Would you see to that Roberts?” LJ said as they passed by. “Oh, and I’ll have coffee, black and very strong.” He added over his shoulder, just before closing the door.

“Now old son, before I forget, I insist that you stay with me tonight at my apartment here in town. That is of course, if you have no other plans?”

“I’ve no other plans, and if you insist then who am I to argue?”

Roberts came in with the drinks, and LJ motioned Nathan to an old leather Chesterfield sofa that looked so out of place in the otherwise pristine and contemporary room. Nathan placed the briefcase on the coffee table in front of them, and said, “Well here it is.”

LJ leaned forward, and running his hands over the bright metal, he said. “Amazing.”

He took his time examining the Kriegsmarine insignia, and the red leaping devil that was etched across the centre of the lid then, he glanced up. “May I do the honours?”

“That’s why I came. Just slide the catches back, it’s unlocked.”

Resting his hands lightly on either side of the case, LJ placed his thumbs over the catches and pushed outwards. They sprang open with a snap and a thud. The lid was opened. Picking up the submarine logbook he randomly opened a page, looking at it briefly, before closing it up again and placing the book on the table. He pulled out, and quickly read through, the various documents that were held together inside a plain brown envelope.

“These are, as you said on the phone, just routine records, some are basic food and provisions request forms, and the others are mechanical service records. They are all dated, by the looks of it, just a few days before they embarked on that last mission.”

He ran fingers through his fair hair and readjusted his fine gold wire framed spectacles, before adding. “This is very odd, old son, there should be records from the day this U-boat was commissioned, not as these are, for just the one mission.”

LJ went over to his desk, typing in the password to allow him access to the central archive database. “Here we are, Nat come and have a look at this. U-683 should have documentation dating from the twenty third of December 1942. Umm, there seems to be intrigue and mystery everywhere, my friend.”

“I’d say,” Nathan said.

Walking back over to the sofa, LJ slumped heavily down onto the worn leather, and sitting there, said. “Umm,” at least, half a dozen times, before picking up the logbook, and glancing at the first page again. “Lovely handwriting and surprisingly legible.” He started to read. “Some of these entries are very brief though. Can’t be more than twentyfive to thirty pages at the most.”

“As I remember it, you are not only able to speak and write fluently in German, but to actually think like a German as well,” Nathan said.

“You have a good memory, old son. And, I’m sure you also remember that I’m one of those annoying individuals, who find it absolutely natural to do so.” With the logbook still in his hand, he stood up and went back over to his desk, sitting down in front of the computer screen.

“However, I’m not going to waste time reading through every entry. Instead I’ll let our very expensive state of the art software do it for us, once I’ve scanned in the pages and the two letters, it should only take a matter of seconds to translate. Then with the wonders of modern technology it will be projected onto the screen over there.”

LJ, held up a small black remote control, and pointed it at the wall in front of the sofa where Nathan was sitting. A panel in the ceiling moved silently back allowing a large projection screen to automatically drop down. Seconds later the first page of the translated logbook appeared on the silvery white panel, and then disappeared again.

LJ sat at his desk, quickly working his fingers over the keyboard as he typed in the command sequence to enable the computer to translate the German text into English. There was a look of intense concentration on his face.

Nathan said cheerfully, “What happens next?”

“Please, old son, be patient.”

Nathan sighed, sitting back in the leather sofa, and drinking what was left of his tea. It was quiet in the office except for the sound of LJ tapping away at the keyboard, when suddenly, he said, “Great heavens above!” and then a few minutes later, “It can’t possibly be true.”

“Tell me LJ, what is it?”

“Please Nat, one minute old son, I’m almost there and then I’ll put it all up on the big screen for you.”

Nathan sat there for what seemed like ages, the anticipation of what was to come, rising in him again, as it had done earlier that morning when he’d swam in to the cavern.

“There, finished.” LJ exclaimed, prodding the return key with his index finger, before getting up and walking back to where Nathan was sitting on the sofa.