According to the blowup he had seen in the Cherub, the secret tunnel was in the back of a cove at the base of the hill, so Andros used the forbidding palace as his marker all the way in. But the cliffs were coming up fast, blocking his view, and the waves started getting choppy, forcing him to adjust his weight to keep water from pouring in.
Soon he was caught in a foamy current that was sucking him in to the soaring rockface. He immediately began to row in the opposite direction, but it was too late. For a terrifying moment, it looked like he would be slammed against the sides of the cliffs. Then he saw a flash of blue light, and the cliffs opened up to reveal a hidden cove between two jagged peaks. There, in the back of the cove, was the tunnel.
The entrance to the tunnel was marked by two blue lights. All he needed to do was clear the narrow passage. But the dinghy missed the entrance and bounced off a rock, throwing Andros over the side into the water. Never a good swimmer, Andros struggled before the water pulled him under.
When he surfaced, gasping for breath, the dinghy was adrift in the middle of the cove, and he had managed somehow to reach the shallow, sandy fringe. His panic subsided.
He had dragged himself across the sand near the mouth of the tunnel when he heard a shout in German. A dazzling white searchlight from the hill stabbed the water behind him, and the dinghy was caught in a flurry of machine-gun fire.
Andros pressed his back against the rock and held his breath in the shadows beneath the beam of light. The entire cove was awash with light, and Andros was aware of the crunch of jackboots and the sound of voices growing louder on the hill above. The talk, from what Andros could gather, was whether to salvage the dinghy or let it sink.
“Didn’t see anybody inside,” said one of the German sentries. “Probably lost its moorings in Garitsa Bay and drifted down, that’s all. No need to make a fuss over nothing.”
“We should check it out just the same,” said another sentry.
This exchange was followed by the click of heels and fading footsteps.
Andros quickly searched the ground for something that could float and found an oar from the dinghy. He was about to enter the tunnel when he saw a disturbance in the current. The shadowy silhouettes of two harpooners rushed out past him toward the dinghy. They were unaware of him plastered against the rocks.
The sentries in the tower must have called the divers, Andros thought, and he realized now was the time to act, before they returned.
He paused to make sure no more divers were coming and then slipped into the water. Holding the oar in front of him with outstretched arms, Andros kicked his legs just beneath the surface and propelled himself down the long tunnel, helped by a favorable current.
A few dark minutes later, he floated into a vast cavern. A horseshoe-shaped stone quay had been hewn out of the rock. Nestled in its half-moon bay was a German U-boat. Its legend was not a number, like U-505 or U-515, but a name: Nausicaa.
Andros treaded as best he could beneath the shadow of its gray hull, surveying the surroundings. A lone sentry paced the other end of the loading bay. A buzzer sounded, and the sentry stepped behind a wall of crates and out of view. Quickly but quietly, Andros climbed out of the water and hid behind the other side of the crates just as the sentry returned.
The German must have heard something, because he began to approach the water. Andros snatched a harpoon gun leaning against the cave wall and aimed it at the sentry. “Stop right where you are,” he ordered.
The sentry stopped cold, and at that moment the loading-bay phone rang.
“You’ll tell them nothing,” Andros warned, hoping the German understood English. He repeated his words in Greek, adding, “I’ll pin you to the wall if your voice so much as shakes. Now, drop your gun and pick up the phone.”
The sentry did as he was told and walked over to the phone. He looked at Andros and picked up the receiver. “No,” he said. “Nothing to report.” He hung up.
Andros ordered him to sprawl on the floor, facedown. “There’s a girl here somewhere, isn’t there? A very lovely girl.”
“Fraulein Vasilis?”
“That’s right. You tell me where she is, and you can live.”
“The cell block one level below us, but you’ll never find her.”
“Thanks.” Andros smacked the back of the guard’s head with the butt of the harpoon gun. Not enough to kill him, but enough to give him a generous headache when he woke up later.
Andros dragged the unconscious German behind the crates, tied him up, and stripped off his uniform. He had just buttoned the pants and was about to step into the nearest corridor when a voice said, “Stop right there.”
Andros turned. From the top of the submarine’s conning tower, the Nausicaa ’s chief engineer had popped up out of the hatch and was pointing a gun at him. Before Andros could open his mouth, he heard the click of machine pistols and found himself surrounded by von Berg’s SS guards. Andros then realized the engineer had called the guards from inside the U-boat.
The engineer told the guards, “Inform General von Berg we have a prisoner.”
117
As SS guards escorted him through the labyrinth that crisscrossed beneath the palace, Andros was both awed and angered by the extent of von Berg’s facility. They turned and went along one particularly dark, menacing tunnel that felt oddly familiar. Andros shivered in the cold, damp air. He was aware of voices drifting down from the other end.
Moving toward the voices, they passed through an archway and stepped onto some sort of balcony that overlooked a cavernous manufacturing facility. Stone steps led down to the floor, where a vast array of machinery, pumps, and piping hummed. Engineers in white lab coats swarmed like mice around the banks of instruments under the direction of von Berg.
“Logic never interfered with the Fuhrer’s decisions before, Myers,” von Berg was telling a short man in Kriegsmarine uniform. “So a demonstration of the power of Flammenschwert may be in order. I want the device loaded onto the Nausicaa immediately.”
“So soon?” replied Myers. “But the detonation devices have yet to be tested.”
“Circumstance has necessitated a change in plans. Now that the Allies no doubt are aware of this facility, they will seek to destroy it. No matter; it has served its purposes. The important thing is to keep the Flammenschwert mobile, out of their reach. That’s your job. As for this complex here, whatever we have accomplished we can duplicate in Germany, if necessary, and on a much larger scale.”
“ Zu Befehl, Herr Oberstgruppenfuhrer.”
Von Berg dismissed the Nausicaa ’s commanding officer and was about to resume his work. Then somebody pointed toward the balcony, and the Baron looked up to see Andros. “Ah, Herr Andros!” he exclaimed. “You keep crashing my parties.”
Andros felt the jab of a Schmeisser at his back and descended the narrow steps along the wall. When he reached the floor, von Berg regarded him with genuine admiration.
“Your timing, I must tell you, Herr Andros, is quite extraordinary. You are witnessing a great moment in the history of the Thousand-Year Reich.”
“Am I?” Andros took in the vast network of pumps and pipes. “Centrifuges, von Berg?”
“One thousand exactly,” von Berg replied. “For enriching uranium hexafluoride gas.”
“And I thought you were processing groundnuts from Brazil.” Andros hoped to catch von Berg off guard with the extent of the intelligence he-and presumably the Allies-already had gathered.
“I see you’ve learned much on your little field trip, Herr Andros,” von Berg replied, unfazed. “Unfortunately, natural uranium contains less than one percent of the isotope U-235. That’s why I built this conversion and centrifuge plant, to concentrate the U-235 isotope to about ninety percent for weapons-grade material.”