86 
Change of Plans Aboard the Admiral Uelzen

Barclay roused himself from the bunk where he had spent the fitful night. As he made his way forward the main deck buzzed with activity.

Commands and conversations in German surrounded him. The commander of the Admiral Uelzen had just ordered the periscope up.

As he thought, they were no doubt preparing for final rendezvous maneuvers off the Yorkshire coast. He walked toward his temporary colleague, the Prussian Wolfrik, who stood at the captain’s elbow, with a certain feeling of pride to observe in use the system of communication he had himself helped establish.

“Where are we?” asked Barclay in German.

“About three miles offshore, east by northeast,” replied Captain Dietz. “I’ll take it now, Corporal Ubel.”

He took the periscope from his officer, leaned heavily on the two horizontal bars, and peered into its lenses.

“What are the seas like?” asked Barclay.

“It has calmed down,” said Dietz, still looking through the glass.

“Good. Why haven’t we surfaced yet? By my watch it’s well past dawn. We need to get ashore. Has McCrogher been sent out for us?”

“We will remain in position here until the information comes we are waiting for,” now said Wolfrik.

“What information? If the seas have calmed, it’s time we were ashore.”

“We won’t be going ashore for some time,” said Wolfrik. His tone now took on the ring of command.

“Why in blazes not?” exclaimed Barclay. “I want off this tub and on solid ground. We should have been in contact with the lighthouse long before now.”

“We have been in contact with the lighthouse for several hours. As I said, they are relaying information to us. We have other business to attend to before we can—”

Before he could finish, the commander was interrupted.

“Signal coming through,” he barked. “Lieutenant Altman, take down new coordinates.”

He stood back and the young lieutenant replaced him at the periscope with pad and pencil.

“What coordinates are they talking about?” asked Barclay.

“The location of one of your nation’s battle cruisers.”

“What! A battle cruiser . . . what possible—”

“I told you, Barclay—Colonel Spengler is aboard the Dauntless, and our assignment is to eliminate him. To accomplish that, we have arranged a little trap.”

“I thought you were going to take him back to the Continent.”

“For what purpose? He is a traitor. He deserves but one thing. To that end, we will send him to the bottom of the Channel.”

“You can’t do that! He is just one man on an entire ship.”

“Look, Barclay, I have my orders,” insisted Wolfrik, growing impatient with the conversation. “They are to arrange for the sinking of the ship. Two other U-boats are on their way. When they are in place and we have relayed the information to them, but not before, then we will put in.”

“That wasn’t part of the bargain,” said Barclay. “I only agreed to get you across the Channel so that you could get your hands back on your defector. You can assassinate him for all I care, but not sink an entire ship.”

“This is war, you fool,” replied Wolfrik with an evil sneer. “Do you actually think a pawn like you can dictate events and tell Alliance intelligence how to do its job?”

“I will not be responsible for sending hundreds of innocent Englishmen to their deaths.”

“You and your conscience can deal with it any way you want.”

“I tell you, I won’t have their blood on my hands.”

“The blood is already on your hands,” Wolfrik spat back. “You betrayed your country long ago. It is a little late for you to turn soft. Events are in motion. You can’t stop them. My orders are to sink the Dauntless if it arrives before our sister vessels are in position. I am telling you one last time that this submarine is under my command, and that we will remain here monitoring signals from the lighthouse on the position of the Dauntless, whether it takes twenty-four, or even forty-eight hours. So make yourself comfortable, Barclay, and get out of our way.”

“If you sink it, why do you need to get ashore at all?” Barclay said with bitter sarcasm.

“I told you before, there is another matter we will then attend to.”

“You mean there is more?” said Barclay in disbelief.

Wolfrik laughed, beginning to enjoy the Englishman’s discomfort.

“You don’t think we would divulge all our plans to a known traitor. I told you, my colleague and I must get to London once the other U-boats are in place,” he said. “We need to get ashore and about our business.”

Wolfrik’s lips parted in an evil grin, then he laughed again.

“Barclay, you are unbelievably naive. I must say I misjudged you. Yes, there is more. You will personally take us to London. If you cause any further difficulties, we will leave you there for the authorities to find, along with your colleague, the young Halifax who has been so agreeable thus far. All the evidence will point to the two of you. They will shoot you both for what they discover you have done.”

“Evidence, what the blazes kind of evidence! What is it supposed to point to?” said Barclay, not believing a word of what he was hearing.

“To the assassination of Churchill and Prime Minister Asquith,” replied Wolfrik with another grin.

“What!”

“Just think—the name Hartwell Barclay will go down in English history books as the traitor and spy who snuck back into England on a German U-boat to carry out one of the most treasonous assassinations in the history of his country.”

“I won’t do it!”

“It doesn’t matter, Barclay,” laughed Wolfrik. “They will all think you did, and the evidence will be compelling.”

Barclay was too overwhelmed to say another word. He staggered backward as one stunned and crumbled onto a nearby stool.

“Come, come, Barclay,” laughed Wolfrik as if talking to a confused child, “don’t tell me you are going to become a patriot now, after you’ve given us so many of your country’s secrets. It is too late for your conscience to start worrying you. You’re a fool if you act surprised.”

Barclay said nothing. His betrayal had now returned to land upon his own head. He himself had become a pawn in the larger game which he had always persuaded himself was such a noble cause.