· 7 June 1939 ·
U-BOAT 33, AT SEA
Let me see if I understand your wildly improbable little tale correctly, Herr McIver,” the German SS officer said as he took a seat at the wardroom table. His glasses had steamed up while Hobbes had been talking, but Hobbes could feel those froggy eyes staring. At least he hadn’t summoned Dr. Moeller and his nasty little scalpel, Hobbes thought with some relief. “Ready?” Willy asked.
“As you wish, Colonel.”
“You’ve been a lighthouse keeper all your life.”
“Correct.”
“A lifelong resident of this insignificant little island.”
“Sadly, yes.”
“Hmm. But, recently, you grew bored and became involved in more—how did you say it—more exciting activities. Such as spying, I believe. Care for a smoke?” Willy asked, taking a yellow cigarette from the pack and then shoving it across the table. “No? You don’t smoke? I find it calms the nerves a bit.” He pulled a gold cigarette lighter emblazoned with the SS black enameled death’s-head insignia from his pocket. “You seem nervous, Mr. McIver.”
“Wouldn’t you be nervous?” Hobbes asked, his eyes averted from Willy’s for a moment, considering every possible aspect of what he was doing. His plan was brazen, and for that it might work. But the little Nazi was clever. Hobbes knew he’d have to be careful. And lucky.
Steiner said, “I suppose I would be. So. You are the ring-leader of something called the ‘Greybeard Spies.’ You monitor all German naval activity in your vicinity. Warships. U-boats, that sort of thing. You were on just such a mission tonight when we had our little accident.”
“Indeed I was.”
“And now, because of some government mix-up or other, you’re being thrown out of your lighthouse. You wish to come over to the side of Germany. You are willing to betray all of your colleagues, lead us directly to them, in fact, in return for money.”
“It wasn’t a mix-up. My country has betrayed me! Thrown my family to the wolves! Taken my home from me! It’s not just that I need the money, though I do, it’s that those fools in London deserve to lose this war!”
“And that’s your story.”
“That’s the truth.”
“I see,” Willy said, getting to his feet. “I see. How unfortunate there is no proof.” He walked over to the door, shaking his head, and pulled it open. “Ingo! Kommen Sie hier, bitte! ”
In an instant, Ingo, who’d been standing guard outside, appeared in the doorway. Willy quickly whispered something in his ear, which sent Ingo running, then shut the door and returned to the table. His face was a mask, hiding whatever he was feeling.
“What are you doing?” Hobbes asked, trying to hide his own nervousness behind Willy’s blue cloud of cigarette smoke. “What was all that about?” He sensed this was not going well at all. His plan, which had seemed so simple, now seemed wildly improbable, even to him. Hearing his own lies played back to him by Willy, they sounded ludicrous. How could he have been so foolish? Was Willy having him taken away to be shot? Or worse, summoning Dr. Moeller and his scalpel to take over the interrogation?
“Relax, Angus. It will only be a moment.” Willy sat back and smoked quietly, regarding the Englishman through a blue haze.
But the moments stretched out, and Hobbes could not relax. He felt a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead as he tried to imagine what he might do if the doctor appeared at the door with his gleaming scalpel at the ready. It would be impossible to overpower both of them. Even if he did, where could he run to?
“Hullo, Papa!”
His mouth dropped open. Katie! The man had sent for Katie! “Are you mad?” Hobbes said, lunging across the table for Steiner.
Willy snapped his fingers and Ingo immediately cocked the submachine gun. “Ingo, please ask Mr. McIver to be seated and shut up,” he said, and Hobbes fell back in his chair, his eyes on Kate. How could he have been so stupid as to allow the child to accompany him on the cross-channel trip? But it had seemed such a lovely moonlit evening, such a—
“You will remain silent throughout my questions, do you understand?” Willy said to Hobbes. “Please. I merely wish to ask the child a few questions and then she’ll be returned to your cabin unharmed. I advise you to keep silent during this, Angus. It is, believe me, your last and only hope.”
Hobbes sat back feeling drained and defeated. He’d miscalculated badly, that much was obvious. Willy was far shrewder than he’d imagined. And now look where he’d got them. Poor Kate. He’d never forgive himself for what he’d done.
“Are you comfortable, child?” Willy asked softly. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I need to ask you some very important questions. If you tell me the truth, it will be a great help to your father.”
“I always tell the truth,” Kate said, covering a yawn with her little hand. Hobbes’s heart flew to her, watching her rub the sleep from her eyes with her tiny fists. Ingo had placed her in a chair directly opposite him. She was wearing a crew-man’s pullover as a nightgown and was wrapped in a blanket embroidered with dark red swastikas. The effect was startling, but at least she was warm.
“Good,” Willy said. “Now tell me, dear girl, what does your daddy do for a living?”
“He’s a birdwatcher.”
“A birdwatcher! How interesting! Here I thought he was a lighthouse keeper.” Willy shot a glance at Hobbes. “So, he watches birds all day, does he?”
“Oh, no. That’s just his hobby. His real job is a lighthouse keeper. We live in the lighthouse, too. It’s fun.”
“I see. What kind of birds does your daddy watch when he goes out? Mollymawks? Gooney birds?”
“Gooney birds?” Kate laughed. “Don’t be silly! He watches birds like you!”
“Like me?” Willy asked, and Hobbes had a hard time not smiling at the little German’s reaction.
“Sure! Birdwatching’s our secret name for Nazi-watching. You’re a Nazi, aren’t you? Papa’s hobby is keeping an eye on the Nazis. Mine, too, actually. You and Ingo are the first ones I’ve really talked to. Spying is fun. Why, I’m spying on you right now! Fun!”
“Yes, I see,” Willy said, rubbing his chin. “Fun.”
“Right. Sometimes it’s not fun. One time my brother and I didn’t see a single periwinkle all day. But every day we write down whatever we see or find out about you old Nazis and then we send it along to the King,” Kate said.
“The King,” said Willy.
“Or, somebody like that. I’m not really sure. We’re very angry with the King, you know. I’m sure Papa told you.”
“No, I didn’t know. Tell me about it, dear,”Willy said. “Why are you so angry?”
“Oh, it’s terrible! Some mean old people in London don’t think we should be birdwatchers anymore, so they are throwing us out of our house. We won’t have anywhere to live. I’ve never seen my father so upset. I’m sad, too. We don’t like the King anymore. We like you.”
Little Willy regarded Kate for a long moment as she favored him with the sweetest smile Hobbes had ever seen. Finally, he rose from the table and stood wiping his glasses, looking from father to daughter. “Ingo,” he said softly, “you may return Miss McIver to her cabin.”
“Good night, darling,” Hobbes said to her as Ingo lifted her from the chair. “Daddy will be there shortly.” He sat back breathing an inward sigh of relief. She’d confirmed his story in every detail. It had been the most amazing display of courage and grace he’d ever witnessed.
“A most convincing performance,” Willy said, smiling at Hobbes. “It’s a pity you have no physical proof of all this, however. No evidence. Yes, most unfortunate, I’m afraid to say. Ingo, will you ask Dr. Moeller to join us in the ward-room? Thank you.”
Ingo, with Kate in his arms, paused at the door, looked back at the Englishman and saw that all the color had drained from his face. The poor little English girl’s father plainly knew he had just received a death sentence. Or, rather, something much, much worse.
“Jawohl, mein herr,” Ingo said, “I will send Herr Doktor immediately.” He turned to leave, an expression of great sorrow on his face. Hobbes waved good-bye to Katie, thinking it was perhaps the last time he’d ever gaze at that sweet face. “Danke, Ingo,” Willy said. “Herr Doktor is a genius at extracting the truth when there is no actual proof of a story, Mr. McIver.”
“Did you show him the letter, Papa?” Kate said, as she was being carried out. “The letter?” Hobbes asked in a shaky voice. “What letter?”
“The one from that mean old minister in London, of course. The one you’re keeping for Nicky, Daddy,” the little girl said. “It’s in your pocket, remember?”
The letter! Of course! He had the official notice from London, the one that expelled Angus McIver and his family from the Greybeard Light. He had the physical proof the Nazi had demanded right here in his pocket! He withdrew it and slid it across the table. Then, he said a silent prayer.
“There’s your proof,” Hobbes said.
Kate had perhaps just saved his life.