The 34th Degree

83

I t was after blackout when the Mercedes arrived in Piraeus and drove down to the docks. Straight ahead was the Turtle Dove, guarded by a dozen SS, who blocked the quay with their two Kubelwagen.

Andros was alarmed and asked, “Where’s my family?”

“Safely stowed aboard,” Eliot reassured him. “No need to worry. I’ll handle this.”

Jeffrey stopped the car, and a young SS captain walked up with his pistol. When the German saw the green piping of Eliot’s uniform, he stepped back in fear and clicked his heels. “Standartenfuhrer. An unexpected privilege. How may I help you?”

“Keep your eyes open,” Eliot replied in perfect German. “There is devilry afoot tonight, and we expect something to go down before dawn. Nobody but nobody is to enter that ship without your inspection.”

“ Zu Befehl, Standartenfuhrer.” The SS captain motioned one of the Kubelwagen to back away and allow the Mercedes through.

“Carry on,” said Eliot, and they proceeded down the quay toward the dock where the Independence was moored.

Jeffrey stopped the car, and Andros got out, joining the other stevedores in carrying the last consignments aboard the ship. The ship’s engines rumbled as Andros quickly made his way to the bridge.

Tsatsos was ecstatic. “You made it!”

“How much longer can we wait?” Andros asked, hoping against hope that somehow Aphrodite would arrive shortly.

“We can’t wait any longer,” said Karapis, the first mate. “The port authority has cleared us. It’s now or never. If they decide to inspect, they’ll discover you.”

Andros looked at the nervous faces of the crew and realized that too many other lives were at stake besides Aphrodite’s. Who was he to say that his beloved was more important than them or their loved ones? Or the men who would soon embark on the greatest invasion in human history?

“All right, then,” Andros said angrily. “Let’s go.”

Tsatsos shouted the orders, and slowly, the Independence moved out to sea.

Andros reached into his stevedore’s shirt and drew out the film negative he had stolen from von Berg’s safe. When von Berg noticed it was missing, Aphrodite would bear the brunt of his wrath. Andros wished he could sneak back to the Vasilis estate and put it back in the Baron’s safe.

But it was too late to turn back now.

Tsatsos got off the radio and turned to him, his face aglow from the compass, and exclaimed, “By God, Christos, we did it!”

But the words rang hollow in Andros’s ears. Three days ago he had come to Athens in the hope that he could once and for all exorcise the demons of his past. All he had managed to do, however, was destroy any future happiness he and Aphrodite might have shared if the war ever came to an end.

He looked back helplessly at the shrinking harbor, worried sick about her. Any hope he had of saving her was vanishing before his eyes. A gnawing sense of hopelessness and despair began to haunt him, the same emptiness he’d felt two days before when he stood at his father’s grave. Aphrodite seemed forever beyond his grasp.

Finally, he said, “I’ve failed, Tsatsos.”