Carsten saw the gulls wheel through the air over the ocean waves, crying to him for scaring off their food. The seas rolled furiously, promising hard fishing for the birds regardless of the boat cutting through. His eyes lifted to the platinum sky. The dim morning promised a storm. It was good they would reach the shores of France in little more than an hour. A storm could set them off course, leaving them in danger of wallowing for days.

Behind him, the captain searched the east with binoculars. Carsten offered him a cigarette, but was refused. The captain conducted himself in his usual quiet manner, but was all business right then. A man on watch stood by the gun a step below the bridge. The others scanned the horizon thoroughly. If they ran into the enemy, this would be the likely place. Carsten only hoped their luck held out.

Carsten lit up, needing a smoke to cut the tension. He tapped his finger on the gray iron rail. He eyed the horizon and grew restless. He expected the sight of land any moment, but it refused to show itself. Perhaps it was already there, but the gray fog prevented them from detecting it. Scrubbing a hand over his beard, he sighed. It would only take longer if he insisted on waiting. Besides, the weather coat grew uncomfortable, heavy with salt and dampness. Carsten abandoned his post and shuffled toward the hatch. Giving his smoke to one of the boys, he spun around and mounted the ladder. Waist-deep in the hatch, a crewman called out. They'd spotted land. Carsten smiled to himself and continued below. He slid down the rest of the way, slamming his feet on the deck. He smiled at the captain's second in command.

"We're on the coast," Carsten said, pulling the hat from his golden head.

The man smiled back. "We'll arrive in no time."

Carsten ducked through the hatch, intent on the curtain as a murmur rose among the crew. He hesitated. The women were quiet, probably sleeping. He placed his hand holding the hat on the paneling and the other on the heavy canvas and tugged the barrier slowly aside. Noreen sat in the corner, propped against the wall, with her hand draped over Claire, whose head rested in her lap. They looked wretched but peaceful. He hated to wake them, even from a fitful slumber.

Carsten's eyes slid over Claire's sleeping form. He recalled the night he took her out under the pretense of seeing a film. He frowned slightly, noticing the state of her dress. She'd bought it for their date. Another time or another place, it would have been worth her while. A smile twitched the corners of his lips. He guessed he was in fact interested, but the rift between them made it unfeasible. He wouldn't entertain the idea under the present circumstances, although the smooth contours of her bare limbs made the choice seem unreasonable

"Enjoying the view?" Aunt asked.

Carsten's eyes went to hers, and she held his gaze and made her warning clear. She could try to protect her cub as she liked, but the cub would do as she pleased. He had seen that play out often enough.

Claire sighed as she woke to her aunt's voice. She brushed her hair aside and rose on her arm, gathering her senses.

"The watch has sighted land," Carsten said, with a warning behind his words. "We'll be in France in a couple of hours."

Claire looked more tired than before she'd gone to sleep. She exhausted so easily in the prison the sub provided; he hoped her listlessness wouldn't be a problem on the rest of the trip.

"Finally," Noreen said. Her face softened.

"Where do we go from here?" Claire asked.

"From France, we go to Germany," Carsten answered, appearing sinister when he spoke the name of his home country. "Berlin."

The women were stunned by his answer.

"How about some breakfast?" He'd offered them two measly meals a day since they'd embarked. Now that they'd reached their landing point, he offered their last guaranteed meal. "I'll see what I can get." He didn't wait for their response and ducked out of the passage through the hatch.

As he passed through the control room, the watch went below with the captain. The captain stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"We're going to dive to periscope depth to avoid any patrols," the captain explained. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, sealed envelope. A German eagle mark crossed the seam where the flap sealed. He made sure to present it clearly. Carsten accepted the letter. "I was instructed to give this to you when we reached land. It's probably your orders for France."

"Danke, Käpitan," Carsten said.

"Nein," the captain said. "Thank you for the easy assignment. It was a rest my men needed."

"Unfortunately," Carsten smirked. "We've let many Allied freighters through the line to bring this man to Germany. I can only hope it'll all be worthwhile and we haven't cost ourselves more than we can collect. I fear you'll only find harder work ahead."

The captain nodded. He ordered his men to their positions.

Carsten glanced at the letter in his hand. He tucked it into his pocket and made his way to the galley. Once there, he requested meals for the women and left the cook to fulfill the order. He went to the toilet, hoping to find some privacy in which to read the message. A crewman was washing up in the tight compartment when Carsten banged his fist on the door. The man looked at him and Carsten jerked his head to signal him out.

While he waited, Carsten peered down the dim row of bunks to where Mr. Healey hid. The man had barely moved from that section of the submarine. Surprisingly, he'd kept his mouth shut since their little tussle, only speaking when necessary. His eyes discerned the man's shadowy form leaning forward from the bunk he'd claimed since arriving. He'd long since discarded his suit jacket and tie. The top of his shirt hung open and a dark beard bloomed on his jaw. He read some book he'd acquired, ignorant of Carsten's presence, as he tried to find better light.

The toilet door popped open and the crewman inside exited, excusing himself respectfully. Carsten waited for the man to go. He ducked inside the toilet and shut the door. He pulled the letter from his pocket and studied it. The only mark on the outside came in the form of an eagle seal to mark it unopened.

Carsten checked the round window in the door and threw the lever to bar the entrance. He leaned against the bare bulkhead and slipped his finger under the seam. The sub dove gently beneath the surface. His eyes darted to the window as he opened the letter. A crewman moved along the passage outside. He unfolded the letter and read.

According to the code at the bottom, the message came from his commanding officer, Oberstleutnant Albrecht Focke. Carsten read the document solemnly. They planned to send them through his commander's outpost as he'd assumed they would. He would make his first contact in Orléans and his next when they reached Köln. He read the names: Gustave Adelais for Orléans and Friedrich Kohl for Köln. He'd worked closely with those men before, the latter being his mentor, and thus he was assured at the ease of moving the cargo into Germany. After that, the orders warned of recent intelligence regarding a bombing plot from the Allies. The plot put Köln at risk. As yet they'd received no confirmation and no counter plot. They more than likely had had trouble discerning whether the information was old or new, as the city was a favorite spot of the Allies to visit. His orders told him to carry forth, despite uncertainty.

Carsten refolded the letter and pocketed it. He took out a piece of gum and chewed it. When he opened the door and started toward the control room, the cook waved his lanky arm to call him back. Carsten was thankful for the speed of the order and gave the women their food before he resumed his post on the nearby stool.

"Aren't you eating?" Aunt asked.

"Already ate," Carsten said, resting his head against the paneling behind him. He chewed his gum gloomily. "You ladies enjoy."

By late morning, the U-boat ran up the coast where they found the harbor and slowly slid toward the bunker at Lorient. The women stood on the bridge with Mr. Healey and the captain. Below, members of the crew scrambled in preparation of the docking. A watch stood on deck for the same reason. One of them sang a low, mournful song, peering at the shore.

Healey still didn't speak. He wore a grim countenance as the sub entered its pen. His appearance was made all the more wolfish for the beard he had grown and his eyes sparkled at the sight of the Nazi flag hanging on the far inside bunker. The garish symbol was easy to see in a number of other places as well.

Carsten shifted his observation to the same object with determined focus. The bunker docks were lined with men in uniform, holding out a hand in salute and staring ahead. Carsten raised his hand in return, deeply frowning as he fell back into the job. The sub had afforded him relative relaxation, with nowhere for his guests to go. That would change now. He wished he had taken the time to change out of the submariner's uniform and into a decent suit. He hated appearing in front of the brass in such a poor state.

"Oh, Aunt," Claire whispered, gaining Carsten's attention. She grasped her aunt's arm and pulled her face into the woman's shoulder. "What will we do?"

Carsten flatly absorbed the moment settling on them. Noreen paled, her face resembling the mask of tragedy. Her niece shut her eyes to the occupation forces, scared by the truth they presented. Noreen glanced at him with matronly indictment. He smiled reassuringly.

The sub came to a full stop. Carsten's attention went to the men who lined the dock in anticipation of their arrival. The flotilla commander was flanked by two dark-suited men. His eyes scanned the others standing with them. He recognized one as Abwehr, like himself, but the others he didn't know. He guessed they were SS. The secret police had stuck their nose into Abwehr operations for some time-naturally mistrustful of anything not their own. Carsten's jaw tightened at the idea. He guarded his emotions and casually stepped to his charges, but let them see the urgency reflected in his eyes, that they mind their manners for their own sakes.

"The men with the commander of this installation," Carsten began. "I must warn you-there could be SS among them. You will need to be on your guard. Do not say anything against the regime or you will assure your internment in a work camp. No matter what you may think, I would not like to see that happen."

"They would be perfectly suited to a camp," Healey said. "Much easier for them to work hard than keep their mouths shut."

Carsten smiled, but the smile didn't touch his icy eyes.

"Come on, honey," Aunt said to her niece. "We've gotta be brave. You can do it. You've lived through a submarine ride from hell. I doubt this'll be much worse. Besides, you'll have dry land under your feet now."

Claire lifted her face, scowling at the crowd backed by a platinum gray sky, "They're going to kill us. I don't know why they don't do it now and get it over with. You Nazis do enjoy your torture." The last was aimed at Carsten and the swipe struck him back into sternness.

"Don't encourage them," Aunt said, wrapping her arm around Claire's shoulders.

"Best behavior," Carsten said to Claire.

Claire's owl eyes filled with tears. She licked her lips and held her silence, choosing not to argue with him over the point this time. Carsten only assumed she meant to comply. She wiped her eyes and sniffed. Despite the insight into her temperament otherwise, she looked as if she understood very well what she faced and would do as he had asked.

A pair of men lowered a gangway. The captain made his way toward it while the others followed. Carsten held out one hand to signal Healey and placed the other on Noreen's arm. When Healey was clear, he ushered both women toward the gangway. They moved quickly, stepping down the ladders and across the narrow deck. The captain waited for them at the plank. Carsten nodded. They saluted and passed.

Carsten allowed Healey to mount the exit first. Then he took up the rear. His eyes locked on Healey's back, though he marked every move the women made. They crested the top and walked a few steps along the dock. The flotilla commander joined them before they went any farther.

"Carroll Healey, I presume," the commander said.

"Yes," Healey replied stiffly.

"Kapitänleutnant Kuhnke, at your service. I trust you had a safe voyage," the commander said.

Carsten pushed between the women and saluted the commander. "Heil Hitler." He held the commander in his strong gaze. The man half-heartedly returned the gesture, looking unimpressed. "You trust well, sir. The Allies gave us little trouble."

The man's face displayed his doubt. Having been a sub commander previously and now the flotilla leader, it was a reasonable reaction.

Another man parted from the crowd to stand before him with the commander. He wore a soldier's uniform under a trench coat. His hat was crushed under his arm instead of covering his head of thick brown hair. He grinned and his gray eyes bulged, exceedingly pleased to see Carsten. "Hauptmann Reiniger, congratulations on your crossing. The information you sent has been most useful. I'm sure both Dönitz and Focke will express their pleasure as soon as you reach Köln. I wouldn't doubt a commendation is coming to add to your collection."

Carsten smiled. "I wouldn't expect praise for merely doing the job assigned me. I only hope the information is of use, Leutnant."

Carsten took careful note of the other men. They were proud men who wore their uniforms like second skins. Even without their telltale garments, their insidious and unsettling glances would have given them away. The Führer's pets appeared most interested in Carsten. He boldly matched their scrutiny, showing little fear of their interest. He needed to kill anything they might think to say before it left their tongues.

"Herr Healey," the man who'd just addressed Carsten said. "I am Leutnant Kappel. On behalf of my commander, I would like to extend my apologies for the means by which we extracted your family. Be assured that all is well and this was greatly worth the trouble. We have been tracking the transaction since you left Boston. It is making the usual channels and should be concluded in a few days."

"I could not be more assured, even if I brought it in a large suitcase myself."

Kappel smiled and nodded to Healey. His attention came to Noreen and Claire, but mostly to Claire.

"Is this your wife and daughter?"

Carsten stepped back, fighting a laugh. He saw Healey choke on the idea of being married to Noreen. Carsten rejoined the women, standing beside Noreen as the episode unfolded. He tilted his head and kept a tight-lipped smile.

"Uh, well-" Healey replied, attempting not to appear flustered by the assumption. "This is my sister-in-law, Noreen O'Shea of New York City, and this is my daughter, Claire. Miss O'Shea is my daughter's guardian, as I have little time away from the factory to care for her myself." He paused, noticeably darkening. "My wife will not be joining us."

"Welcome to France." Kappel smiled at Noreen and Claire.

The women stared back at him speechless. Carsten slipped his arm behind Noreen unseen and gently touched her back. She jolted to attention.

"Pleased to meet you." She forced a smile. "I must apologize. We're simply exhausted."

"Understandable, Frauen O'Shea."

Noreen raised her eyebrow at Carsten. Carsten was blank, which reminded her of his earlier warning back on the turret of the sub. They were being watched closely by those who could most do them harm. Noreen adjusted her jacket and touched her hair, seeming to swallow her irritation.

"Let us bring them to staff quarters," Kapitänleutnant Kuhnke suggested. "They can rest and clean up before the transport arrives. I am sure you are famished. It may not be much, but my cook has prepared us lunch."

Carsten stepped between the women and guided them along the dock toward the great concrete bunker. They had impressed him with how quietly they'd waited during the meeting. Perhaps he'd expressed the danger clearly enough.

"Well done," Carsten whispered from clenched teeth to the women.

"Come along, Herr Healey," Kappel said, indicating the way.

"Thank you," Healey said. He stepped forward assuredly, no worse for the harrowing trip, unlike his family.

Carsten peered over his shoulder. Healey came along with the other Abwehr agent, leaving behind the plain clothes SS who paced about the dock. A suspicious pair whispered to each other, casting eyes in his direction. Carsten wondered what they discussed and why. He needed to report the intrusion in Köln. In the meantime, he would guard the women from both themselves and his associates.