The 34th Degree

126

The Cherub was a few miles off the coast of Corfu as Erin Whyte watched the hillside and cove beneath the Achillion explode with columns of fire. She realized nobody could possibly survive that kind of destruction.

“It doesn’t look good,” she said softly as she peered through the periscope inside the conning tower.

“Let me see,” demanded a liberated Prestwick, who was standing next to her. His wrists were still raw from being tied up, so he grasped the handles of the scope gingerly as he pressed his spectacles to the glass. “Good show!” he exclaimed. “Those bombers hit the bull’s-eye.”

“No thanks to you,” remarked Erin, incensed at Prestwick’s utter disregard for Andros. “It was Chris who led us here.”

Prestwick kept his eyes glued to the periscope. “Thank you, Andros, wherever you are,” he said with a shudder. “Your father would have been proud of you. My God, would you look at that.”

Erin stepped aside as Captain Safire took a look for himself and removed his cap. “Aye, there’s nobody coming out of that alive.”

The radio operator climbed up the ladder from the control room and handed Safire a signal. “We just picked up a call from Sinon, sir.”

“That’s Andros!” Erin cried. “He’s alive!”

Safire read the signal. “Sinon says Flammenschwert has his fire and has run off with Nausicaa.”

“My God!” said Prestwick. “That means von Berg has escaped on his submarine and has an atomic bomb on board.”

Safire nodded. “I’ll see if we can break her back by air.” He spoke into the piping to the control room, paused to listen, and turned to Prestwick with a grim expression. “Our flyboys are long gone, hightailing it back to North Africa. Looks like the Luftwaffe is giving them a good chase.”

“Then it’s up to us,” said Erin. “How soon until we catch von Berg, Captain?”

“If his U-boat stays surfaced, she can do nineteen knots on her diesels,” Safire explained. “Best we can do submerged is seven knots on our electric motor, eight if we push her.”

“Then surface, for God’s sake!” said Prestwick.

Safire put his eyes to the scope and shook his head. “Not in the daylight, sir, not with enemy warships on the surface and fighters in the skies.”

The prospect of von Berg getting away alarmed Erin. If the Baron managed to disappear beneath the Mediterranean, they’d never find him. “If von Berg did submerge,” she asked Safire, “how long could he stay underwater before surfacing?”

“Eight months,” Safire replied, still looking through the periscope. “And he’d have enough fuel for almost seventeen thousand miles.”

Prestwick gasped. “That means von Berg could conceivably cross the Atlantic for New York City, park his submarine somewhere in the Hudson, and blow the city off the face of the planet. Captain, we can’t take a chance and let him submerge.”

“Sir?” asked Safire.

“That submarine must not reach open waters,” said Prestwick. “We must sink her at whatever the cost.”

“Sink her?” cried Erin. “But what about Chris?”

“Whatever the cost, Captain Whyte,” Prestwick repeated.

“You bastard.”

Safire raised his hand to silence them. “I see her now, pulling away from the island.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” demanded Prestwick, loosening his tie.

Erin turned to Safire. “Don’t do it,” she said.

“We can stop the Nausicaa without sinking her.”

“We can’t afford to lose the element of surprise,” said Prestwick. “You’ll sink her or I’ll have you stripped of your command.”

Safire looked at Erin helplessly and shook his head at Prestwick. He spoke into the intercom to address the crew. “Action stations. Torpedo crews, prepare for attack.”