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“We land and see if Willi and I can talk some sense to Alois.”

“You want to land? Christ, there’s fifty of them and three of us. And who the hell is Alois?”

“Her skipper, Alois Schneider. We’re old friends.”

“You can stay airborne if you want,” Grüner said. “That would make more sense, anyway. But von Dattenberg is right: Unless we can somehow stop it, U-234 is going to leave here, maybe within the hour.”

—

The Storch landed first. By the time it had, Cronley decided that he could do nothing useful staying in the air except notify Colonel Habanzo where they had located U-234, and that she appeared to be about to set sail.

Then he pushed the nose of the Cub down and landed.

He saw that Grüner and von Dattenberg were out of the Storch and walking toward the submarine, and that a group of people—a large group, most of the men carrying Schmeisser submachine guns—were walking toward them.

He got out of the Cub and took the Thompson from the backseat.

I don’t think that either Grüner or von Dattenberg has any kind of a weapon.

I guess that makes me Wyatt Earp, or maybe Gary Cooper in High Noon.

When the Thompson again slid off the shoulder of his jacket, he decided to carry it with the butt against his hip.

And then he moved the lever to FIRE and racked back the bolt.

He trotted as fast as he could through the snow to catch up with Grüner and von Dattenberg.

He heard a crunching noise and looked around. The left gear of the Storch had broken through the ice. The airplane was now sitting crookedly.

Damn it!

When he looked at von Dattenberg and Grüner walking toward the U-boat, he now saw that the large group from the submarine was being led by four men in the black uniforms of the SS. The one in front, the only one without a Schmeisser, was wearing a black, ankle-length leather overcoat.

What the hell is that all about?

That’s not cold-weather gear.

He had an epiphany.

That’s to impress the sailors on the submarine! To dazzle them with the all-powerful SS!

Another man caught up with the SS.

“Wie geht’s, Alois?” von Dattenberg asked.

“What are you doing here, Willi?” Schneider asked.

&nb

sp; “I’ll do the questioning!” the man in the black leather overcoat snapped.

“I’m here, Willi and I are here, to keep you from making a very serious mistake,” von Dattenberg said.

“I said I will ask the questions!” the man in the black overcoat again snapped.

“You must be Lang,” Cronley suddenly heard himself saying in German. “Former Sturmbannführer Horst Lang.”

Where the hell is this coming from? Cronley thought.