“Nice touch,” Mercer said.
“Almost as good as you writing ‘Kilroy was here’ on the side of the bridge.”
“Just messing with a future marine archaeologist.”
Air bubbled around the U-boat as her tanks filled with seawater and she continued to angle toward the marina. The dock was nothing more than a long fiberglass ledge cut into the hull. It was accessible from the interior of the ship through a standard hatchway placed next to two garage doors for launching personal watercraft. Farther aft were the bigger doors that shielded the storage area for the Empress’s larger excursion boats.
Although the portholes along the hull were small, they got an occasional glimpse of people in their cabins and once a face appeared at eye level across just a few feet of frothing water. Everyone waved cheerily. The startled person, an elderly priest, blinked hard, and when he looked again they had passed out of his view.
“That’ll make him lay off the sacramental wine.”
The force of water hissing along the Sea Empress’s hull created a cushion between her and the U-boat, a gap of about two feet that widened as the sub slowed due to the weight of her filling tanks.
Frigid water began to wash along the deck plates. “Shit, I opened ’em too wide,” Ira cursed.
“Get to the stern of the sub.” Mercer prodded Anika and Hilda, then helped Erwin. He began to run, kicking up spray as the ocean reached his ankles. “It’ll reach the landing first.”
With every step the water rose higher. It was at Mercer’s calves by the time they reached the back of the U-boat. The dock was still twenty feet too far. Slowed by the added drag, the sub continued to sheer away from the towering side of the Sea Empress. As the cruise liner overtook the U-boat, the landing drew abreast of the floundering submarine. Mercer took two sloshing steps and launched himself across the four-foot gulf, calling back as soon as he landed, “Do it!”
They had five seconds at most before the U-boat was no longer alongside the dock. Erwin’s struggling leap would have dumped him in the sea had Mercer not grabbed his good arm. He cried out and slumped to the deck. Anika came across like a bounding gazelle. Marty and Ira leapt with less grace but equal results.
“Hilda, you can make it,” Anika cried. Water surged past the cook’s thighs. Hilda rushed like a charging hippopotamus but couldn’t make herself leap the widening gap. The water flooding across the sub’s deck was too deep.
Frantic, Mercer spied a life ring mounted on the wall. He coiled the end of the rope around his wrist and tossed it to the stricken woman just as she floated free from the sinking U-boat. He wasn’t sure she’d caught the life ring until the drag of her body against the cruise ship’s fifteen-knot headway yanked him off his feet. It would have hauled him into the water if he hadn’t braced his legs against a bollard.
The effect of water pulling against her body meant Mercer had a five-hundred-pound weight at the other end of the line. His wrist was about to snap. “Help!” he cried. It came out as a strangled croak.
The others grabbed the line, taking up the strain, and like dragging an anchor up a raging stream, hauled Hilda Brandt back to the marina.
“Anika,” Mercer gasped when Hilda clawed her way onto the dock. “Tell her she’s the most beautiful mermaid I’ve ever caught.”
Panting from the exertion, Ira helped Mercer to his feet. “Now that we’re here, O great cruise director, and finished with our north Atlantic tug-of-war, what’s the next shipboard activity?”
“Foraging for a cabin, food, and booze — in whatever order you’d like. Shuffleboard’s at ten. Me, I’m going for the bar first.” The next joke died on Mercer’s lips. In the rush to save them, he’d forgotten that the ship’s being here might not be as coincidental as they’d thought.
Anika was the first to notice the change in him. “What’s wrong?”
Mercer didn’t reply. Behind them was the watertight door leading into the ship. It opened into the Jet Ski garage. In the glow of a couple of night-lights, dozens of the personal watercraft sat on AstroTurf pads next to racks of scuba gear and other aquatic toys. Also in the garage were two mahogany-decked thirty-foot Aquariva speedboats. A sophisticated track crane mounted to the ceiling could launch any of the small vessels.
There was a glass-sided office at the far side of the garage for the boat attendants to handle the paperwork of their job. Mercer crossed to it and found the door locked. He used the machine pistol to smash the pane of glass in the door and let himself in. Switching on a desk lamp, he spotted what he was looking for: an invoice pad for passengers to charge a Jet Ski rental to their cabin. The ship’s letterhead was on the top of the pages in bold script. At the bottom he found the name of the vessel’s owners.
“Son of a bitch.”
“What is it?” The group had gathered behind him after helping themselves to handfuls of fluffy towels.
“This ship’s owned by a company called Rhine-marine.”
“So?”
“It’s a division of Kohl AG.”
ABOARD THE SEA EMPRESS
“I guess this ship being here wasn’t such a coincidence, after all.” Erwin Puhl’s voice quavered. He’d never considered that the forces the Brotherhood were fighting could be so prepared.
“This is either Rath’s fallback position,” Mercer agreed, “or he planned to transfer the Pandora boxes here all along. Considering the ship’s distinguished passenger list, I doubt customs is going to pay much attention to what’s in her holds.”
“You’re not surprised, are you?” Marty snapped, more accusation than question.
Mercer matched his anger. “After what we’ve been through, I wouldn’t be surprised if Gunther Rath is already on this tub. He can’t risk sticking by the Njoerd in case we made it to Kulusuk and contacted the authorities.”
“Doesn’t matter who’s surprised,” Ira soothed. “We need to figure out our next move. Erwin, do you know what cabin your friend is in?”
“I don’t know. It was assigned when he boarded.”
“Then we have to go look for him.”
“How do you propose to do that?” Marty’s fury had not abated. “We look like a bunch of refugees.”
“There must be some cabins close by,” Mercer said, grateful for Ira’s role as peacemaker. “We’ll help ourselves to some new clothes.”
After knocking to make sure the cabin nearest the marina was empty, Mercer splintered the lock with one kick. He motioned to his people, and they raced across the corridor and into the small room. It was barely big enough for the three beds, closet, and tiny bathroom. There was no porthole. Mercer went straight to the telephone hanging on the wall near one bed. Next to it was a list of numbers. He dialed the one for a ship-to-shore connection. After a single ring, a recording answered, “Due to the solar-max effect, all ship-to-shore telephone calls have been suspended. If this is an emergency, please come to either of the pursers’ offices located on the entrance deck of each hull. We are sorry for the inconvenience.”
Mercer fingered the disconnect button. “Outside communications are out. They claim it’s the solar max, but I bet Rath’s already here and has isolated the ship.”
“I would if I were him,” Ira said. “Who were you going to call?”
“I wanted to reach Dick Henna, the head of the FBI. We’ve been friends for years.”
“No kidding?”
“It’s a long story.” Next, Mercer phoned the purser’s office and asked to be connected to Father Anatoly Vatutin’s room. A moment later, a shipboard operator said that no one was answering. “Could you give me his room number? It’s important that I find him.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the tired operator said. “We aren’t allowed to give out cabin numbers. It’s company policy.”
Mercer hung up the phone. “Damn it. They won’t give me Vatutin’s room number either.” He crossed to the closet and opened the door. Hanging inside were three saffron robes of Buddhist monks and rattan sandals. The idea that flashed in Mercer’s head was a desperate one. He called to Anika, who was in the bathroom. “Are there any razors in there?”