Thorpe's Candle

RUN SILENT

“Ah, there you are.” Captain Schafer looked up smiling. “Please sit down, Mr. Knebel.”

Skyler stepped into the small, private dining room and took a place opposite Schafer. The two men were alone.

“Help yourself.” Schafer pointed to a bottle of Schloss Castel Muller Kabinett. “This is from the Mosel region. It’s slightly drier than wine from the Rhine. I hope you like it.”

Skyler poured the pale German wine into his glass and took a sip. “Refreshing.”

“I prefer their Auslese, but it would be a little too heavy with dinner.

“Are you from the Mosel region?”

“Actually Wiesbaden, near Frankfurt.” Schafer said. “My father was a diesel mechanic, my mother a nurse. And you?”

“Born in Munich, but we moved to Pretoria when I was a small boy. My father was a school teacher, my mother stayed home trying to keep us in line.”

“Both honorable positions in life, my friend.” Schafer smiled and gestured with his glass. “And today we sit across from one another pondering the world.”

“To pondering.” Skyler returned the toast.

The door opened and a young seaman entered carrying a tray. He placed a bowl of soup in front of each man and left.

“A hearty meal of potato soup.” Schafer motioned with his spoon for Skyler to start.

Skyler resisted wiping his forehead and hoped the captain would not notice his uneasiness. Maybe the conversation would stay casual and not delve into the Afrikaner Resistance Movement.

“Tell me about your group,” Schafer said between spoonfuls.

Skyler tasted the soup, buying time to collect his thoughts. “We have about five thousand members mostly in South Africa, but some in other parts of the world. We’re fortunate to have some wealthy contributors who are generous with their support, allowing us to carry out our work.”

“Which is?”

“In its simplest form, the preservation of the white race by any means, individually and collectively, as a people of God.”

“A holy war, then?”

Skyler sipped the wine. “We fight to safeguard the existence of our race, the sustenance of our children, the purity of our blood, and the freedom and independence of our people. We do it to fulfill the mission allotted to us by the Creator of the universe.” Skyler took another spoonful of soup. “This is delicious.”

“My mother used to make potato soup along with thick, crusty salt bread. I still don’t know why we all weren’t as big as elephants growing up on meals like this.” Schafer paused, giving Skyler a stern look. “So what do you plan to do with your Candle?”

“Cleansing.” Skyler smiled over the bowl at the captain. “Mass cleansing, of course.”

“And once you have… cleansed?”

“Then we take back our country.” He was about to go into his rehearsed speech on why whites are the superior race when the intercom on the wall squawked.

“Captain to the bridge!” the metallic voice called.

Schafer rose and pushed the talk-back button. “What is it? I’m eating.”

“We have contact, sir.”

“Our friend?”

“Yes.”

“All right, I’m coming.” The captain turned to Skyler. “Mr. Knebel, you must excuse me. We are about to rendezvous with another vessel and I am needed on the bridge. Continue enjoying your dinner.”

“I’d like to tag along if you don’t mind. I’m intrigued with your impressive ship and its complex inner workings.”

Schafer paused for a moment. “I’ll instruct my steward to keep our meals warm for us.” He opened the door for Skyler. “You might even find this entertaining.”

The private Gulfstream banked into the setting sun as it made its final approach to the small airport on the northern tip of San Andres Island, the main island in the Caribbean archipelago. It was remote—700 kilometers northwest of the Colombian mainland and 230 east of Nicaragua.

Pablo Escandoza gazed down on the slender, finger-shaped strip of land glistening like an emerald in the sunset. Coconut palms almost entirely covered its hilly terrain. The lights of the town of San Andres sparkled in the twilight as they passed beneath.

The town’s heritage dated back to 1527 when Spanish explorers settled there. Serving as a pirate stronghold for decades, the legendary Henry Morgan recognized its strategic location and established his base while waiting to sack gold-laden galleons bound for home. Escandoza often thought of himself as a pirate of the highest order.

“We’re getting closer to our final destination, William,” Escandoza said. “From San Andres, we travel by boat to a smaller island about an hour from here. I think you’ll find your new home nothing short of paradise.”

William Thorpe, his tired face showing the rigors of too little sleep and a constant dependency on prescription drugs, sat across from Escandoza. He turned and stared out the window.

The drug lord studied the 70-year-old scientist. Even in the chilly, dry air of the jet, the man’s shirt revealed sweat stains. Thorpe’s health had declined over the last month — he had lost a considerable amount of weight. Escandoza decided he would assign a physician to keep Thorpe alive long enough to complete the manufacture of the Candles. Once the process was documented and taught to the drug lord’s handpicked team of technicians, there would be no further need for the former member of Project Candle Power. Perhaps he would bury Dr. Thorpe right here on San Andres, Escandoza thought. He might even build a monument to the sad, little man responsible for changing the world forever.

Teresa Castillo sat on the circular couch in the back of the small jet. Her dark hair, shinning like polished ebony, fell around her shoulders as she crossed her tanned legs. She looked up from the London Financial Times, and smiled. “You’ll like the island, Dr. Thorpe. It’s beautiful.”

Her companion, a sixteen-year-old stripper from Rio de Janeiro named Krystal, stirred beside her. The girl had slept the entire flight from Colombia and now sat up stretching.

She was angelic, Escandoza thought, as he admired the teen’s tiny bare feet with nails screaming cherry red. “Teresa is right, it’s very beautiful.” He reluctantly turned his attention back to Thorpe. “The lab is almost complete, and the korium is scheduled for delivery a week from today. You have only to supervise the final preparations so we can begin production as soon as the Tiger Shark arrives.”

“Fine,” Thorpe said dryly. He returned to making notes in a binder he carried.

There was a slight bump as the Gulfstream touched down and rolled the length of the runway. It slowed and turned toward two cars parked along the tarmac. One was a black Mercedes limousine, the other a dark gray, windowless van. The jet taxied to a stop and the side door opened and swung down to form steps. Colonel Blackstone emerged from the van and approached the jet. He reached up and offered his hand to Teresa who ignored him as she stepped down onto the asphalt. Krystal accepted the colonel’s offer and smiled at the rugged-looking mercenary as she gingerly placed her spiked sandals on each step. Once the two women were together, they walked hand-in-hand to the big German-built car.

William Thorpe followed giving Blackstone only a momentary glance.

At last, Escandoza filled the entrance to the plane at the top of the steps. “Good evening, Colonel.”

“Teresa’s latest piece of candy?”

“Yes.” The two men shook hands once Escandoza stood on the tarmac. “I can only assume she is as delicious as she looks.” He turned and saluted his pilot. Then he started toward the limousine with Blackstone at his side. “What is the latest?”

“I have good news and a little surprise.”

Escandoza smiled, his white linen suit blowing in the brisk tropical breeze. “Don’t keep me in suspense.” He brushed the hair from his eyes.

“The Tiger Shark is underway, the korium safe and secure. That’s the good news.”

“And the surprise?”

“We have a special guest on board.”

“Not Rainer Knebel?”

“No. Unfortunately, Mr. Knebel was killed in a shootout at the last moment.”

“Then who?”

“Someone we both have wanted to meet for a long time.”

Escandoza stopped and stared at Blackstone. “Skyler?”

“He shot Knebel and is masquerading as the South African.”

“Really?” Escandoza chuckled.

“Captain Schafer recognized him right away but is taking no action unless we request it.”

“So Mr. Skyler has become a real annoyance.”

“Should I order the captain to eliminate him? Having Skyler alive is one more problem we don’t need.”

“We have no problems, Colonel, only opportunities. I’ve always believed that if you want to punish someone, really make them suffer, you need to know what they value.” A broad smile swept across the drug lord’s face. “And then you take it away.”

“Give me an electronic sweep.” Captain Schafer eased into his chair in the command center of the Tiger Shark.

Skyler stood behind him watching the sophisticated order in which the men went about their jobs. He felt a tinge of excitement being back on the bridge of a warship, realizing he had a bit of admiration for this privately owned pirate navy. As much as he detested Escandoza and what he stood for, the drug lord definitely knew how to put together an elite military force.

The electronics officer watched the frequency scanner readout. “The Carupano is four thousand yards off our port bow.”

“Good.” Schafer pressed the intercom. “Sonar, Conn.”

“Conn, sonar, aye.”

“Contacts?”

“Still just the one, sir.”

“All right, bring us to periscope depth.”

“Aye, sir,” came a reply from the first officer. “Periscope depth.”

“What is the Carupano?” Skyler asked.

“Our ticket home, Mr. Knebel. The Americans will be searching for a submarine racing at full steam across the Atlantic. What they won’t be looking for is an old Panamanian freighter plowing a labored course for South America.”

“I don’t understand,” Skyler said.

“I intend to bring the Tiger Shark up under the Carupano close enough to turn our combined sonar signature into a single blip as we ride piggyback to Colombia.” He emphasized by placing one palm of his hand over the other.

“Brilliant,” Skyler said, realizing that if Schafer could pull this off, there was a good chance the korium would make it to Escandoza. Now he must decide — sabotage the sub, stop the shipment, and in effect commit suicide, or let it complete its journey and take his chances confronting Escandoza head-on.

“Search periscope up,” Schafer ordered. The shiny tube rose into position and the captain pulled the focusing handles down making a rapid 360-degree sweep. “Dark skies, raining hard, not much to see.” He turned to Skyler. “A nasty day to be on the surface.” Schafer folded the handles. “Down scope.” As the mechanism lowered with a whoosh, he returned to his chair. “Take us to within a thousand yards.”

“Aye, sir,” said the first officer. “One thousand yards.”

Skyler watched as the helmsman adjusted his controls.

A few moments later the first officer called out, “One thousand yards, sir.”

“Up periscope,” Schafer ordered. Again, he unfolded the handles, making a quick sweep of the horizon. “There she is.” He pulled away from the eyepiece. “Video.”

Skyler and the first officer watched a large video monitor that was mounted above the plotting table as it blinked to life. A fuzzy black and white image appeared showing a turbulent sea covered with whitecaps. The Carupano was little more than a blurry form on the horizon, dark smoke flowing from its funnel.

“We have found our ride home, gentlemen.” Schafer grinned proudly. He turned back to the eyepiece making one last sweep of the horizon.

Skyler watched the video monitor as the gray ocean rolled by. “Captain, what was that? You passed something, a small object.”

Schafer seemed a bit annoyed as he panned the scope back in the opposite direction. “I see nothing.”

“There is something,” the first officer said. He took a step toward the screen and pointed.

Skyler watched as a bobbing, cone-shaped object came into focus.

“It’s probably nothing more than a piece of flotsam discarded from the Carupano,” the first officer said.

Schafer looked over at the video monitor then back through the scope. Suddenly he backed away, his mouth gaping. “Mother of God. It’s a—”

“A sonobuoy,” Skyler whispered.

“A goddamn sonobuoy!” the captain yelled.

“Captain!” screamed the electronics officer. “It just went active transmitting a burst on the Juliet-band!”

Schafer slammed the handles of the periscope closed. “Down scope! Crash dive!” His face paled as he turned to Skyler. “We’re fucked!”