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#4
APR 15 |
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“Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea…”
William Dunn grimaced as he pulled another capacitor out of the Blue Tracer’s control panel and saw it was damaged. He tossed it onto a pile of discarded parts behind him and slid out from under the panel. He stood and dusted his hands. “We’ve got a mess on our hands here,” he noted.
“She’ll be right.” The Australian accent of Boomerang Jones rang through the cockpit. He was on top of the Tracer, replacing a section of the vehicle’s outer metal skin.
“I know it was impressive when we took that dive, but I think we’ll need to do some reinforcing work before we try it again.” Dunn shook his head as he looked around the cockpit of the Tracer. Access panels were pulled open and wires dangled free everywhere. The floor was covered with damaged capacitors and blown vacuum tubes.
“What a mess.” Dunn kicked a tube that skidded across the metal floor plating before sagging down into the pilot’s chair. “I think the last time I saw her in this bad condition was when we were building her.”
Jones chuckled. “No worries,” he said. He finished riveting a new plate into place, laid his gun down and leaned down through an open canopy. “We built her out beyond the black stump with nothing but that alien technology, and we can bring her back this time, too.”
“I know,” Dunn said. “And Lady Luck told me she’d pay for the replacement parts.”
“That she did and that she’s done,” Jones pointed out.
“But we could be out of commission for weeks,” Dunn said. “And the Nazis are free to wreak havoc on our ships.” He turned on the radio and smiled when he heard static bursting from the hidden speakers. “At least this still works,” he said. “Maybe we can have some music while we work.”
He walked across the room and started working to reconnect severed wires that had been damaged while Boomerang kept working on the outside. He hummed along with the song until it ended.
“Big news out of the north Atlantic,” the newscaster said after a quick introduction. “A convoy of supply ships bound for our brave Allied soldiers was attacked by what is suspected to be a new super Nazi U-boat! Eutonia Shipping president Wilhelm Wotan is heading to Washington with other shipping magnates to ask Congress for additional protection for ship–”
Dunn switched off the radio. “Keep working, Boomerang. I’ve got an appointment with Mr. Wotan.”
Wilhelm Wotan stood and walked around his desk with his hand extended as Dunn entered his office. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dunn,” Wotan said. Behind Dunn, Wotan’s secretary silently closed the door. “I’ve followed your adventures with the Blue Tracer with a great deal of interest. Please have a seat,” Wotan invited.
Dunn sat down while Wotan returned to his chair. “I heard that your sailors are talking about some sort of super German submarine,” Dunn said.
Wotan opened a cigar box and offered one to Dunn. When he declined, Wotan selected one for himself and snipped the ends off. “That’s what the newsreels are saying,” Wotan said, lighting his cigar. He took a puff. “I don’t know what it was. I just know that an entire convoy was wiped out with no survivors. We lost a lot of good people.”
Dunn nodded. “What do you think?”
Wotan smoked in silence for a second. He turned and stood, then opened a safe. “I haven’t shown this to anyone,” he said. He withdrew an envelope and handed it to Dunn. “I found it in my office on my desk one morning.”
Dunn opened the envelope and read the letter it contained. The swastika seal at the bottom left no doubt as to which side had sent it. “So they’re threatening your entire fleet unless you stop shipping arms and supplies,” Dunn said, returning the letter to the envelope and handing it to Wotan. Wotan quickly returned it to the locked safe. “What have you done to stop this?”
Wotan shrugged and returned to his seat. “Everything I can, but I’m very limited on what I can do. I like to think I’ve hired good, patriotic workers who want to see the Axis shattered. But I can’t rule out that there are some fifth columnists here in my facility. I’ve hinted to the supervisors to be more diligent, but even they have limits.” Wotan leaned forward with cigar smoke lazily curling upward. “I do everything I can to protect my workers. If the police found out about that letter, I’m worried that someone might attack this facility which could result in a large loss of life.”
Dunn nodded. “I understand your dilemma.” He thought a moment. “When do you have another shipment going out?”
Wotan pulled a calendar from his desk and studied it. “Three days,” he finally judged.
“We’ll be ready,” Dunn said, standing. “We’ll set out in the Tracer to be sure that those soldiers get those supplies.”
“Thank you,” Wotan said. Dunn was already leaving.
“How’s she looking?” Dunn asked. He stood in the warehouse, looking up at Boomerang, who was standing on a scaffold while welding plates back onto the Tracer.
“Fair dinkum,” Boomerang replied after turning off the torch and raising his protective mask.
“Good,” Dunn said. He slipped off his coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves. “We’ve got to have her ready in two days. Eutonia’s got another shipment going out the day after and we’re going to stop those ratzis from sinking any more.”
“Then what are we wasting time talking for?” Boomerang asked. He picked up a wrench and began tightening bolts on the Tracer’s hull while Dunn headed into the cabin to resume work on the Tracer’s control panels.
Two days later the Tracer was ready. Thirty minutes before the Eutonia ship’s departure, Dunn and Boomerang were in the cabin, preparing the Tracer to head out. Dunn expertly worked the controls and the floor across the warehouse turned into a ramp leading downward into the bay’s water. At Dunn’s command, the Tracer slowly trundled down the ramp and entered its submarine mode.
Boomerang and Dunn steered the Tracer toward the Eutonia shipyard, surfacing a safe distance away to show that they were not enemy attackers. As expected, a Eutonia freighter was exiting the docks and slowly picking up speed.
“Ahoy, Eutonia Freighter!” Dunn called through the Tracer’s radio. “This is the Blue Tracer. We’re going to be providing escort duties for you while you travel today.”
“Glad to hear it, Blue Tracer,” crackled the reply from the speaker. “This is Captain Gerald Pass of the Eutonia freighter King Poseidon. We appreciate your assistance.”
“It’s our pleasure, Captain,” Dunn said. “We’ll keep your frequency clear and we’ll have our systems keeping an eye open for any jerry U-boats. Keep them flying!”
“Good hunting, Tracer,” Pass replied. “Over and out.”
Dunn replaced his microphone in its bracket and maneuvered the Tracer into a course that paralleled the freighter. “Might want to get some sleep, Boomerang,” Dunn advised. “I’ll take the first watch.”
Days passed with nothing to mark their passage but trading shifts with each other and occasional conversation with the crew aboard the Poseidon.
Dunn checked their course and returned to the deck of cards and game of Solitaire he was playing on a nearby flat surface while Boomerang snoozed in the back compartment. As he studied his five of hearts and the various possibilities before him, a buzzer started sounding from the control panel. Boomerang was quick to appear at his side. “What’s going on, mate?” he asked.
“Sonar systems picked something suspicious up,” Dunn said as he checked his controls. He flipped a switch and spotlights on the Tracer’s hull ignited, penetrating the black water around them.
Dunn flipped another switch on the radio. “Freighter Poseidon, this is Dunn aboard the Blue Tracer. We have an unusual contact. Be advised.”
“Understood, Tracer,” came the reply. “Sounding general alert now.”
“Tracer out.” Dunn turned off the radio and scanned the waters surrounding them.
“Bloody hell!” Boomerang shouted. “Look!” He pointed over Dunn’s shoulder at a murky shape in the distance. The red and white swastika on its tower identified it.
“That’s a Nazi U-boat, all right,” Dunn said. “Get ready.” Boomerang hurried to the weapons area and began arming torpedoes.
“I’m going to try and hail them first,” Dunn said. He picked up the radio and set it to an open frequency. “Attention, Nazi U-Boat,” he said. “This is the Blue Tracer. You are in restricted waters. You are ordered to heave to. This freighter is under our protection.”
Moments later the Tracer shuddered as a torpedo slammed into her side. “Damage report!” Dunn yelled.
“Hull buckling, but no leaks yet,” Boomerang replied. “Looks like you’ve got your answer as to whether they’re friend or foe.”
Dunn nodded and flipped a switch. Metal shields swiveled into place to protect the Tracer’s viewports. “Let’s extend them the same courtesy,” he said.
“Firing,” Boomerang replied.
Torpedoes streaked from the Tracer’s underside as the U-boat began to try a turn. The Tracer’s augmented torpedoes caught the enemy submarine amidships and tore through its hull like it was made of tissue paper. The Nazi’s superstructure couldn’t take the strain and it tore apart as the surviving crew frantically tried to surface.
“Good shot,” Dunn said. He cautiously opened the metal shields and the spotlights showed a trail of bubbles indicating where the destroyed sub had gone down. “Looks like Adolf can scratch one U-boat,” he said.
Boomerang let out a victory whoop and began studying damage indicators. “We need to surface,” he said. “Looks like that bang may have given us a little more damage than we’d thought.”
“On our way,” Dunn said. The Tracer safely surfaced beside the Poseidon. Dunn radioed the freighter to let them know that the danger was open while Boomerang climbed out onto the hull to inspect the damage. Both hoped that the remainder of the freighter’s journey would be a calm one.
Many miles away, X1, leader of the gang sinking freighters, thumped his desk in frustration after receiving a message from a spy planted aboard the King Poseidon. The Blue Tracer had ruined a perfect operation. He used Nazi submarines to sink freighters, then skilled divers looted the freighters and conveyed all weapons and goods to Axis forces for hefty fees.
He grabbed a cigar and lit it after snapping four matches from frustration. He threw the matchbook away and glared into the darkness. Wilhelm Wotan took another drag off his cigar and thought dark thoughts about how the Blue Tracer would have to be dealt with, and soon.
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