The 34th Degree

110

Instead of retiring to the captain’s quarters, Andros made his way to the signals room. It had been converted into a makeshift darkroom. Erin was hunched over the developing tanks when he stepped inside. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him.

“You’re up,” she remarked in surprise, straightening under the safe lights. She was wearing a white polo sweater over a pair of denim overalls that the all-male crew had given her.

“Prestwick said you have something for me to see.”

She hesitated, a disappointed and curious expression crossing her face. She pointed and said, “In the tank.”

Andros looked at the image slowly materializing in the bath of fixing solution. The black-and-white picture of a castle by the sea was like something from a dream or a Hollywood studio set. “Looks like some sort of castle,” he observed.

“The Achillion,” said Erin, pulling the picture out of the solution. “It’s on the island of Corfu. Built in 1890 for Empress Elizabeth of Austria. Later became the summer home of Kaiser Wilhelm II. The Greek government confiscated it in 1914 and let the French turn it into a hospital a couple of years later. That’s what it still is, according to our data. Located about seven miles south of Corfu Town, on the east coast of the island.”

“What is its military significance?”

She clipped the photo to a clothesline to let it drip-dry. “Take a closer look,” she challenged. “See anything else?”

Andros reached for a magnifying glass and went over the photo. “There must be something here,” he insisted, “something important enough for the Jerries to shoot down one of our reconnaissance planes.” So far he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps he was looking in the wrong place. Perhaps what was important wasn’t at the palace at all but somewhere else…

Then it jumped into view-a thin line beneath the water.

Andros lowered the magnifying glass and looked at Erin. “A submarine wake!”

“Seems the Baron has tunneled a secret submarine station into the rock beneath the palace,” Erin explained. “Now, that’s a nifty trick.”

Andros traced the line from the water back to the cliffs beneath the Achillion. It looked like the submarine must have just gone inside the mountain beneath the palace-or come out and submerged. A chill ran up Andros’s spine. “This must be where von Berg has Aphrodite.”

“Among other things,” said Erin. “We’ll have a better look when we surface.”

“When we surface?” Andros gripped her arm. “We’re heading for Corfu?”

Her face darkened. “I thought you knew.”

“To rescue Aphrodite?” he asked anxiously.

She lowered her eyes. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean?” Andros tightened his grip until she winced in pain.

“My arm, Chris!”

He knew she could break his lock on her and strike him if she wanted to. But the pain in her eyes told him that her feelings for him were too strong. “Tell me,” he demanded.

She swallowed hard and said, “Churchill’s ordered an air strike on the island tonight.”

“What?” Andros released his grip and stood there in shock.

She rubbed her sore arm. “I’m sorry, Chris,” she said with genuine sadness. “I thought you knew.”

“Loose lips sink ships, Captain Whyte,” said a voice from behind them. “Or submarines.”

Andros turned to see Prestwick in the doorway. On either side of him was a junior officer, their pistols at the ready.

“You liar,” said Andros. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d be unreasonable, as you are now.”

“Aphrodite held up her end of the deal in Athens, Prestwick. And paid the price. We have to rescue her.”

“How do you propose to do that? Walk through the front gates of the Achillion?”

Andros pointed to the aerial blowup. “Through the back door.”

“Oh, you mean that submarine tunnel?” Prestwick raised an eyebrow. “Assuming you were able to infiltrate the underground fortress and elude detection by von Berg’s formidable SS guards, how would you manage to get out before the bombers blow it to kingdom come? Swim?”

“If I have to.”

“Then you would finally qualify for the Olympic pentathlon after all,” sneered Prestwick, and he shook his head. “Unfortunately, I can’t risk sending you in at this point. You know too much. Besides, if you’re caught, the air strike will lose its element of surprise.”

“You expect me to sit here and watch the Allies murder Aphrodite?”

“If it means saving the lives of millions, yes.”

“No!” Andros pulled out his father’s dagger.

Erin pleaded with him, “Don’t, Chris. He’s not worth it.”

“Poking holes in me isn’t going to save your beloved Aphrodite,” Prestwick added matter-of-factly. “I’m afraid that if you insist on being difficult, we’re going to have to confine you to the captain’s quarters until tomorrow morning, when this is all over. Gentlemen.”

The two officers raised their pistols.

Andros glanced at Erin, whose alarmed eyes begged him to go no further, then back to Prestwick and the officers. Finally, he sighed in defeat and slid the dagger behind his back.

“There,” said Prestwick. “Now you’re being reasonable. Excuse us, Captain.”

Prestwick moved behind him and, together with the officers, escorted him down the fore-and-aft passageway back to the captain’s quarters. They made him lie on the bunk and handcuffed him to the rail.

“You’ll stay here until after the air strike,” Prestwick said. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

He stepped out and closed the green curtain, leaving Andros alone in the compartment.