The cabin light still burned brightly when Claire woke in the early morning. The last thing she remembered was trying to figure a way out of the dire predicament. They must have fallen asleep, exhausted by the affair. Claire lifted her head and focused on the room. The yacht rolled on the waves in an eerie silence. She guessed they'd stopped.

"Aunt Noreen," Claire whispered. "Aunt Noreen."

Aunt startled awake, drawing a deep, long breath through her nose. She touched her forehead, disoriented before settling her sleepy eyes on Claire.

"Oh, good Lord, I was hoping it was only a nightmare," Aunt grumbled. "What's going on?"

"I don't know. The engines have stopped."

Claire and her aunt rose from the bed, surveying their room. All was quiet on board. Claire went to one of the portholes and saw the dark gray sky beyond. She climbed back onto her perch from the night before. The ship dipped and a black ocean stretched on forever.

"What do you see?"

"Nothing," Claire shook her head. "Empty as Eddie's charm."

Aunt chuckled quietly. "At least you're keeping your sense of humor."

Claire flashed her aunt a bright smile.

The door vibrated with several hard raps, which startled both women. Claire climbed down when she heard the lock slide. She sat on the edge of the bed and waited while Aunt backed away.

When the door opened, they thought they would surely see Carsten or his handler. Instead, their friends from the night before stood there. From their grubby faces they glared at the women. Brandishing the rifles again, they shouted something indecipherable.

Claire rose to her feet while her aunt stepped in front of her protectively. The men shouted again and pointed up the passage.

"I think they want us to leave," Claire said.

"Oh, well-it can't be any worse up there than it is in here," Aunt said tentatively.

The women exited the cabin, keeping watch on the crewmen's weapons. One of the men stepped ahead while the other followed. The tailing crewman kept the muzzle of his rifle pressed into Claire's back. They moved down the hall like herded cattle.

"Hey, take it easy, would ya?" Claire rounded on the man harrying her.

"That will be enough, Matrose." Carsten appeared on the ladder. He ducked below the deck from above to observe their approach. The man with the rifle backed away under his icy glare. "Good morning, ladies. I trust you slept well." Carsten switched moods, flashing a startlingly sincere smile and sparkling eyes.

"You don't look like you did," Claire said. His smile couldn't hide his weariness.

"Someone had to keep an eye on things," Carsten replied. "But don't get any ideas. I am still quite fit. Now, please come join us on deck. It's a lovely morning."

Aunt led the way, not speaking a word. She set her mouth in a tight line, probably biting her tongue.

Carsten led the group onto the deck in the dusky light of predawn. The yacht lights blazed and the ship bucked on the choppy seas. A biting wind blew in from the west.

Claire hugged herself; she wasn't dressed to be out on the spring ocean. She rubbed some warmth into her arms, scanning the nothingness that surrounded them. She turned. Off the starboard side loomed a hulking nightmare that nearly dwarfed the yacht. Aunt gasped and Claire leapt to her side. The women clasped hands and gawked at the iron leviathan.

"Impressive, isn't she?" Carsten stepped to the gunwale with his hands behind his back. He proudly regarded the black phantom. "One of the wolf pack your country desperately hunts for, but never seems capable of finding." He flashed his grin at them. "I have taken the liberty of having your things brought on board."

Claire gaped at the great tower bearing the terrorizing symbol of Germany's leadership. She barely heard a word Carsten said because of the blood rushing in her ears. The slap of the waves brought her back to the moment. Her eyes scanned the unbelievable length of the submarine. They strapped the yacht to its side, running ramshackle planks between for boarding.

"This is really happening," Aunt whispered. Her brows knitted tight.

"Good morning, everybody!" Father's voice contrasted her gloom.

He walked toward them, refreshed and dressed in a new suit. The man who had once provided her with everything now held it all back, not even granting a change of clothes or a coat. He stepped past them to where Carsten stood, taking no notice of the women or anyone else. He held his arms high and wide, as though he would wrap them around the tower of the bobbing beast.

"Things are going beautifully." Father smiled.

"Do not celebrate yet," Carsten said. "When you are safely on German soil, then you can celebrate."

"Wise," Father said. "Very wise advice."

The yacht captain emerged next, surrounded by his crew who had brought them out to sea. He and Carsten silently acknowledged each other.

"It is time," Carsten said. He jutted his chin over his shoulder at their destination.

"You expect us to go on that?" Claire said, finding her voice.

Her father faced her. He rubbed his hands together and blew out a tempering breath. Going to her, he placed his hands on her shoulders.

"You're welcome to stay on the yacht," he said, lifting his brows while feigning gentleness. "But you may find that a volatile decision." He patted her arms. "It's up to you."

The men laughed and Claire recalled what he'd told them in his office the night before. They meant to sink the yacht to complete the illusion of a torpedo attack. If she decided to stay, she would no longer be a kink in his plan.

Father pivoted away her before she answered.

The U-boat captain appeared on his bridge. He waved his hand at Carsten.

"If you are ready," Carsten said.

They abandoned the smaller vessel in turn. Carsten and the captain escorted the Healeys over the rickety planks. The rest of the crew followed once their human cargo stood safely on the narrow deck of the submarine. Single file they all climbed the tower to enter the vessel. The planks which they used to cross were discarded like tinder. Claire froze in terror, with no escape, but the gruff voice of their captor roused her back into motion. She wiped her eyes. Father already climbed the ladder down into the glorified tin can. Claire took up Aunt's hand and continued as ordered, not wishing to draw the spy's pistol out of hiding.

They crested the top and Claire peered down into the darkness. A heavily bearded man wearing a thick wool sweater eyed her and her aunt. In another time and place, he'd have been a less threatening if not roguish image of a sea captain. Carsten lingered on the lower turret, running his hand over the deck gun before joining them at the hatch.

"Congratulations, Herr Reiniger," the U-boat captain said. His grin was so broad, it split his graying beard. His blue eyes sparkled. "It'll be no wonder if you make it to the top of command with such excellent work."

"You flatter me, Kapitän," Carsten smiled back. "I'm merely following orders."

"I'm just happy you brought my men back." The captain laughed.

The submarine chugged away from the abandoned vessel. Carsten stood in the round tower and scowled at the yacht as it bobbed on the waves. The silence of the ocean surrounded him, peaceful despite the war.

The calm abruptly changed as an explosion rocked the yacht. The smaller vessel rolled and a great plume of smoke and fire erupted from the bow through a suspicious hole. It came back to list on its side.

"Let's get below," the captain suggested. "That smoke will bring the destroyers straight to us."

Carsten nodded and followed the captain below, securing the hatch behind him. The U-boat chugged toward the eastern horizon, sinking lower and lower until it slipped beneath the waves.