Loch

Prologue

“Officer on deck!” The men inside the control room of the UB-85 came to attention and snapped precise salutes at the sublieutenant’s sharp command.

“Carry on.” Captain Günther Krech moved a few paces into the room and halted, looking around at the cramped space.

With quick replies of, “Aye, Sir,” the men returned to work.

Inside the periscope well, Sublieutanant Lars Westmann turned back to the periscope and peered into it. He scanned back and forth, and then again, and again, until Krech suspected the man was stalling.

“Do you see any targets out there, Oberleutnant?” Krech asked.

Now, Westmann turned to face him.

“Nothing yet, Kapitänleutnant. We just surfaced.”

Krech nodded, unable to hide his grimace. They needed prizes, and needed them soon.

The North Channel of the Irish Sea, less than twenty kilometers wide, had long been a favorite site for buccaneers seeking to prey on shipping between Ireland and the main British isle. Now, in the midst of the Great War, a new threat patrolled these waters.

The U-boat, German’s greatest weapon against the might of the British navy, had made these waters deadlier than ever. Just this month, U-boats had sunk nearly 280,000 tons of Allied shipping, gaining much-needed supplies.

Krech’s boat had sunk none, her full complement of ten torpedoes still waiting to be unleashed. That needed to change.

Westmann approached slowly, casting nervous glances from side to side. Sensing his second in command sought a private audience, Krech moved out of the control room. With the roar of the UB-85s engines to contend with, he didn’t have to go far in order to be out of earshot of his crew.

“Permission to speak, Kapitänleutnant?” Westmann asked, his voice hoarse and his brow lined with worry.

Krech nodded. He already knew what the man was going to say.

“We have been out here for two weeks, and have met with no success. We can’t stay much longer.”

“I am aware of that. We have time, still.”

“Precious little.” Westmann cleared his throat. “The prize the agent gave you yesterday, if it is as valuable as you believe, surely that will suffice?”

Krech shook his head. “It’s more complicated than that. We must take at least one prize before we return.” He stared down at Westmann until the underliuetanant nodded. “Take her up top and we’ll have a look.”

Krech stood atop the conning tower, peering out at the moonlit horizon through a pair of binoculars. Down below, Westmann, flanked by two junior officers, stood on the deck, also searching for targets.

The early morning breeze tugged at Krech’s uniform. The sea gently rocked the ship. Dawn was not far off. Surely he’d soon see the telltale column of smoke that announced a ship’s approach.

Without warning, a loud crash pierced the quiet morning. It rocked UB-85, sending the crewmen tumbling to the deck. Krech managed to remain standing, looking all around to see what they had hit. His first thought was an iceberg, but that made no sense. It was the wrong place and wrong time of the year for such an obstacle.

“What did we hit?” he shouted.

As if in reply, another crash shook the boat.

And then he saw it.

A dark hump sliced through the water, circling away from UB-85, then changed directions. Krech watched as it shot forward, impossibly fast, once again on a collision course with the boat.

“It’s going to ram us!” he called, moments before the third collision, the hardest yet, sent him tumbling to the deck.

“Is it a whale?” one of the officers cried.

“I don’t know what it is,” Westmann replied. “But we can’t take many more of those collisions.” He took out his sidearm and the other two followed suit.

Kneeling atop the conning tower, Krech pressed his binoculars to his face and searched for the creature. He spotted it, thirty meters away, turning for another run. Could it be a whale? The dark hump rising from the water looked wrong. And then, for the briefest of seconds, the creature raised its head.

Krech’s binoculars slipped from limp fingers and clattered to the deck. Everything the agent had told him came rushing back.

“It’s true,” he whispered. “He wasn’t lying.”

Against the crackle of small arms fire, the creature smashed into the ship again. The impact sent the sailors flying. And then the deck tilted wildly to starboard as the monster flung its massive bulk up onto the deck.

Clouds had drifted across the face of the moon. Krech could make out few details in the darkness. He heard a loud, metallic wrenching, and fired his sidearm in the direction of the sound. In the brief, faint light of muzzle flashes, he caught a glimpse of dark skin and the mangled remains of UB-85’s gun mount.

“This beast might sink us,” he whispered. He had to make sure the treasure was safe.

For a brief, irrational second, he wondered if he could return the treasure to the creature. But that was absurd.

But is it any more absurd than the guardian of the treasure following us out into the open sea?

He could ponder the improbability of it all after it was over, if they lived through it. Right now, he had to get down below.

His crewmen had regained their feet and emptied their pistols into the massive beast. Krech did the same.

The creature, whatever it was, let out a reptilian hiss and slid its bulk back into the water.

“Do you think it’s gone?” Westmann asked.

“I don’t know,” Krech said. “We should get out of here. Come on.”

He slid down into the hatch, followed by the other officers. All around, sailors cast confused glances in his direction.

“Kapitänleutnant,” Westmann called, “the hatch will not close.”

“What do you mean?”

“That… thing damaged it. We can’t dive.”

Krech’s guts twisted into an icy knot. “And unless we can repair it, we’ll take on water in anything other than the smoothest seas.”

“Kapitänleutnant, what is happening out there?” one of the midshipmen shouted.

Before Krech could reply, something tore through the fabric of the hull. He had a moment to register the sight of shiny, black fangs penetrating the steel skin of UB-85 and then water began streaming in. The men shouted in surprise, and then the beast bit into the ship again, this time ripping long narrow gouges in the steel.

We are all going to die.

With his crew’s cries of alarm ringing in his ears, Krech turned and ran for his quarters. They might not survive this night, but he would preserve the treasure.