The door was left open. No one seemed to be around. The Ford I had seen earlier had driven up and parked directly behind us. Trudi and the dough-faced driver, Freddy, had walked on past and were with the group. Everyone was huddling, out of view. I could hear their voices, dimly now, several yards away.
I knew this was my chance.
I crept out from under the tarp and crawled to the open doors. No one was on guard. Taking a breath, I lowered myself onto the ground, a mixture of pebbles and sand, careful not to make a sound.
A short ways away I could hear the Bauers and Curtis engaged in conversation. But they were no longer speaking English. It was German now. No more pretense.
We were at the shore. They clearly weren’t making any beer delivery.
I stole around the edge of the truck and caught sight of them around twenty yards away. Willi was pointing out to sea. It was dark, but the shore had to be right behind them. I could hear waves lapping up on the beach. I knew I had this one moment of opportunity to get away while everyone was distracted. Before they came back for their cargo. I could probably sneak away now, find my way back to the main road, and they would never know I was ever here. But what had I seen? What could I tell anyone was going on? Nothing. On one side of the truck, I spotted a wall of hedges and bushes I could easily hide behind. Behind me, I saw an old clapboard house, not a light on. And no other houses in sight. This was about as quiet and remote as it could be. Hugging my camera to my chest, I tiptoed over to the hedge and slipped behind it.
The night was moonless, completely dark. We were literally on a beach in a totally deserted location. Through the bushes, I could see Curtis and the other driver smoking. Willi Bauer took out his pipe. I checked my watch. 2:30 A.M. Why were we here? What was going on?
Then I remembered—whatever was happening, if my code held up, and so far it had, it would take place at three. In half an hour.
0300.
I waited.
Twenty minutes passed. I spent it crouched, observing, watching Willi Bauer and his group preparing, though I couldn’t tell what for. So far they still hadn’t unloaded the kegs. I was no longer even afraid. I had to see what was happening. The four of them were all the way down by the water now, which I could hear lapping onto the beach in small waves. They had a lantern affixed to a rope, which they lit, and occasionally swung back and forth as if signaling someone. Willi Bauer intermittently looked out through a pair of binoculars. Always staring out at the sea. Waiting.
I crept a little closer along the row of bushes, taking care not to make any noise against the pebbles. I snapped a photo or two, though I had no flash, and given the lack of light, I was doubtful anything would come out. There wasn’t even a moon.
All of a sudden, Willi shouted out. “There!”
He pointed out to sea. Everyone got up and looked. To my shock, far out in the darkness, I saw a light flashing back at them.
They all cheered.
Excited, Curtis swung the lantern back and forth. I saw what looked like a dark shape crest through the surface, black on black, like some long serpent rearing its head.
Until I realized it wasn’t a serpent.
“Mein Gott!” Trudi Bauer uttered in awe, her hand to her mouth.
It was a submarine.
A German sub, I had no doubt.
Far out in the water. But here … in American waters. Maybe a quarter mile offshore.
I stood there, watching, just as awestruck by the sight as they were.
And also at the fact, which was slowly dawning on me, that I was right. Right, since my very first suspicion.
The Bauers were spies. They were plotting something. Operation Prospero. And Curtis was part of their group.
I checked my watch. It was 0300.