The third boat turned and raced for shore.
Ronnie took careful aim and fired another rocket. It streaked toward the last attacker and blew the craft out of the water. A body flew into the air and splashed into the waves. What was left of the boat sank in seconds. As they passed over the spot there was nothing to see but fragments of fiberglass and a slick of burning oil floating on the surface.
Carter throttled down and headed for Mar del Plata. He kept one hand on the helm and looked around. Everything seemed lit with bright light.
The railings of the boat were splintered and broken. The metal fish locker was holed and pocked from multiple hits. The deck was torn up in gouges where rounds had struck or ricocheted. All the glass was shot away from the wheelhouse and it was in bad shape. Only the corner posts still held the roof on.
No one was wounded. That qualified as a minor miracle.
"I don't think the guy that owns this boat is going to be happy," Lamont said. "What do we tell him?"
"Pirates. We tell him pirates." Selena brushed hair away from her forehead. She looked angry.
"Pirates off Argentina?"
"Why not? They seem to be everywhere else. Why not here?"
"We'll compensate him," Nick said. "We'll buy him a new boat. I've got ten grand right here." He patted a money belt strapped around his waist. "Hell, its government money."
"We were lucky." Lamont cleared his MP-5 and placed it back in the case.
"Yeah, Lamont, it's been your lucky day."
They entered the harbor by the southern breakwater, past a tall statue of Christ waiting with open arms to welcome sailors home. It was a comforting sight. They headed for the dock.
A non-descript man in a tan straw hat stood fishing on the end of the pier. He watched the battered red and white boat ease into the dock and a black man jump off and tie her down against the fenders hanging alongside. The fisherman noted the destroyed wheelhouse and bullet-scarred sides. He watched the four people on board begin unloading their gear. The owner of the boat appeared and started shouting and waving his hands in the air.
The fisherman picked up his rod and sauntered past the curious onlookers beginning to gather. When he reached the street he stopped and turned back to look at the scene, then took out a phone and placed a call to Washington.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
The boat owner was hysterical.
"Selena, talk to him," Nick said. A crowd was forming. It didn't look friendly. There was a lot of muttering.
She began speaking to him.
"Sir, calm down. It's not our fault. Pirates came after us. They must have thought they could take your boat from us. We had to fight them off. But we will pay to fix her. Please, be calm. We'll pay. There's no need to be upset."
Nick took cash from his money belt and held it in front of the man. His eyes bugged as he saw the wad of hundred dollar bills. Maybe more American dollars than his boat was worth.
Lamont and Ronnie watched the crowd. It was a lot of money, out in the open. A siren announced the approach of the local policia.
"Give him five thousand dollars," Selena said. "He may want more. I'm going to call for help." She took out her cell phone and punched in the number for the Argentine Major.
An hour later and eight thousand dollars lighter, plus five hundred for the Chief of Police and five hundred more for the Major, they were allowed to leave the pier. Maybe it was because of Selena's fluent Spanish, or maybe the fact that the Major couldn't stop ogling her breasts.
Breasts or not, he made it clear they had overstayed their welcome.
Back in the house the team was ready to move out. They sat around the table with cups of strong Argentine coffee, looking at the pouch Lamont had salvaged from the U-Boat. Carter unsealed the oilskin packet, expecting seawater to pour out. Inside was a slim, brown book. The pouch had held up. The book was dry. He opened the hard bound cover. A name was written across the flyleaf in black ink.
Obergruppenfuhrer Dieter Reinhardt.
Nick turned the page. The writing was in German.
"It's a journal." Selena pointed at the first entry. It was dated in the European style, 30-4-41. April 30, 1941.
"Can you read it?" Nick thought about how she'd looked standing on the deck of the boat just before they were attacked, the sun shining off her hair and the metal of her MP-5.
"Yes." She scanned the entry. "It's the diary of an SS General."
"What was an SS General doing on that sub?" Lamont sipped his coffee.
"Probably escaping to Argentina," Carter said. "A lot of the SS made it out of Germany at the end and came down here. What does the first entry say, Selena?"
"It's a description of his initiation into a secret SS order headed by Heinrich Himmler."
"The chief of the SS?"
"Yes. Listen to this. This is in the spring of 1941. Walpurgis Night, May Eve."
"The witches' night."
"Yes."
30-4-41
Tonight I was initiated into the Council, the greatest honor of my life. I knelt before the Reichsfuhrer in the holy circle. The Knights of the Grand Council looked on. Heydrich was there, and Eicke, Frank, Dietrich, Muller, Nebe, Lorenz.
The blood offering was exchanged. I swore my oath, kneeling before Grand Master Himmler and my peers. While I knelt, Heydrich invoked the power of the Spear, chanting in the old language. Heydrich spoke the words, but it was the Reichsfuhrer himself who touched my shoulders with the most sacred talisman, the Holy Lance of Vienna, to seal the oath.
"The Vienna Lance? Wasn't that captured by Patton in 1945?"
"Yes. It's back in Vienna now. I wonder why Himmler had it? Hitler grabbed it when he entered Austria. He took it to Nuremberg." Selena pointed at the page. "That list of names is a who's who of the SS. Eicke commanded Dachau. Heydrich was number two after Himmler. The Czechs called him the 'Butcher of Prague'."
"What's this Council he's talking about?" Ronnie added sugar to his coffee.
"Himmler created a Nazi round table modeled on the legends of King Arthur, called the Grand Council of Knights. There were twelve plus Himmler, all senior SS Generals. They met in Himmler's castle."
"How do you know this stuff? Nazi Knights?" Nick tugged on his ear.
"Just something else I know."
He remembered his wise ass comment about her knowing everything.
Selena looked at him and took pity. She decided to explain.
"I was researching Indo-European languages. Studying the evolution of archaic languages into modern ones. Himmler and the Nazis used language as one of the tests in all that pseudo-scientific nonsense about the 'Master Race'. I came across a discussion of Himmler and his so-called Council. He advocated a return to the old German religion. He was supposed to have conducted secret ceremonies in archaic German, but nobody knows what those were."
She turned a page.
20-1-42
We met today in the Wannsee district to discuss the Jewish question. The conference was led by Heydrich. He was inspiring, pointing out that the conference would resolve fundamental questions of organization, transportation and coordination of efforts between all of us to achieve the final solution.
Our aim must be to cleanse the Fatherland and all the territories the German people will occupy in the future of the corrupting stain of the Jews.
It was decided to accelerate the transportation of the Jews to the East, where facilities for work and reeducation are available and they can receive special treatment.
"He's talking about the death camps!" Lamont set his cup down. "Special treatment was Nazi speak for the gas chambers."
"There's a list of the people who were there," Selena said. "SS big shots and Nazi Party officials. He says the notes were taken by Adolph Eichmann."