Chapter 5

Gordon waved a gun motioning Chip to take a seat. "Question time, Commander. You've known Lee Crane for quite a while. When did you first meet?"

"First day at Annapolis, we roomed together."

Gordon nodded. "Tell me, what sneaky trick did you play on Lee during an inspection in your plebe year?"

"That was years ago, how am I supposed to recall something ..." A sly grin appeared on Chip's face. "Do you mean the time I 'borrowed' a buckle of Lee's during a surprise inspection? It got him a fistful of demerits."

The agent lowered his gun. "Some friend you were."

"Hey, he barely ever got any dings. I was tired of walking off so many of mine. He wasn't mad, well, not too mad. You're sure about me. Don't I get to ask any questions?"

"You got my picture, on a secure connection, right? But okay, ask away."

Chip thought long and hard. Lee was always reticent about the ops he'd been involved in. Nevertheless, supposedly, he'd worked with this man…. "Does the name Maria Papadakis mean anything to you? And Monte Carlo?"

"Don't you mean Maria Michaelides and the Cote d'Azur? Ah, the advantages of a few days off …."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Chip smiled. Lee had regaled his XO with a story of a beautiful Greek girl, a sparkling French beach and a stolen weekend vacation. Obviously, Gordon knew the details.

"Okay, we're even. Anything else you want to know?"

"Did Lee teach you that trick about dropping something to signal an all clear?

"No, I managed to pick that one up all by myself. And I didn't even need any superspy training."

Gordon burst out laughing. "Lee told me how much you dislike ONI. I hope that doesn't mean we can't work together."

"If you want to play 007, that's fine with me. It's a necessary evil. I just want the agency to leave Lee alone."

"Call me Art. It's Chip, right? And I'm going out on a limb to say the other two are Pat and Ski."

"I see the skipper has bragged about the crew to you. Kowalski and Patterson - both good men to have your back when things get rough."

Gordon put away his weapon and sat down on one of the two beds. Good thing, Chip thought, he'd gotten a photograph of the guy; he had the height, broad shoulders and light skin of every other man in Bitberg. His dark brown hair and hazel eyes fit in well in this part of the world. Chip concluded that if somebody was needed to look like Mr. Average in half of Europe, Agent Gordon got the call. He was a person who could blend into any crowd.

"I only got in six hours before you did yesterday, had to tie up some loose ends. I checked in with the Frankfurt Consulate to see if Crane had told his contact anything. I was hoping Lee noticed something unusual, but the contact assured me Lee didn't foresee any trouble. He felt that the professor was imagining things and his writings were just memoirs. I spoke to the polizei kriminalrat, what we call a police detective, who is handling the missing person report. No cab driver admits to picking up a passenger at von Kempner's residence."

"Doesn't that sound strange to you? The professor told me he watched Lee drive off in the cab he'd called. What about the taxi company? Shouldn't they have a record of incoming calls requesting a taxi? Don't the drivers keep a trip log?"

Gordon spread his hands. "In the big cities like Berlin or Frankfurt they would, but here, well, the best way to describe it would be to call the drivers independent contractors. They own the car and pay for a special license. The drivers all use the same dispatcher, unless one of them gets to the phone first and takes the fare. The cabbies pay a monthly fee to the company for use of the phone and mechanics, etcetera. The company also owns some cabs themselves. I wouldn't put it past anyone to allow an unlicensed driver to use a cab now and then. They would never admit it to the polizei, they could lose their license. I'm afraid it's looking like a dead end unless the professor gave you a description before he died."

"You know about him passing away?"

"Yes, Admiral Johnson told me you planned on speaking to von Kempner as soon as you arrived. I figured he would speak more freely with you, and my talents would be better suited elsewhere. I did see them taking the body away."

Chip relied on his gut feeling, sensing he could trust Gordon. "No, he didn't say anything except watching the taxi drive away and no one appearing to follow."

"I'm sure Admiral Nelson briefed you that my main assignment is to look for any enemy activity. If it's okay with you, I think I'm better suited checking on my sources and doing the covert work. You and your men can move about more openly. People saw you at the professor's house. I assume Pat and Ski are talking to people downstairs right now. Keep pushing about the taxi driver, they might respond to Americans looking for a missing friend rather than answering the polizei. A little bribe might get you some answers. You're better off using euros if you're greasing palms. American money is harder to explain."

The sound of the key card being used brought the ONI agent to his feet, his drawn gun pointing towards the door. Two startled crewmen looked at the barrel of the Sig Sauer as they stopped dead, turning their heads towards Morton for answers.

"It's okay, come on in. Our spook friend is naturally cautious. Agent Gordon, this is Patterson and Kowalski. Close the door, guys, and have a seat."

Pat and Ski warily sat down on the side of the bed, keeping a close eye on the gun.

"Sorry, it comes with the territory." Gordon put the gun away. "Glad to meet you, gentlemen." He quickly filled them in on his conversation with Chip about a possible plan of action.

"We don't want to attract attention by meeting, so call if you get something solid. Just be careful what you say on the phone. You're equipped with a scramble device but I have found out the hard way nothing is completely secure. I surmise you are scanning for the GPS on Lee's cell?"

"If the phone is turned on we'll track it, don't worry. Admiral Nelson has come up with a handheld device so we can travel by foot."Chip asked abruptly, "What's your take on this, Art?"

Gordon shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I've put out a couple of feelers, haven't turned up anything. Got a few more sources to squeeze. Right now I'm not thinking it's a random kidnapping of a tourist, especially with the emptying of the hotel room, and no ransom demand." He stood up and made for the exit. "Good luck and be careful. We don't know who we're dealing with yet." He slipped out the door, closing it softly behind him.

"Well, Mr. Morton, he didn't have much information so I guess it's up to us."

"Looks like it, Ski. Did you have much luck with any of the staff?"

"Some, it's making it easy since almost everybody speaks some English. Guess that's a bonus for being soclose to the base. Anyway, one of the cleaning ladies said the guy who picked up the skipper's stuff looked like one that had been hanging around the hotel a month ago when a VIP had checked in, but she's not sure."

"I wouldn't think Bitburg drew in anyone important."

"Sometimes visitors at Sprang would stay off-base, they like the peace and quiet. You know it's only a fifteen-minute trip. She also remembered about three months ago an Australian scientist visited the professor and stayed at this hotel. She's pretty sure this same guy showed up on the floor a couple of times."

"She recalls someone from three months ago?"

Patterson laughed. "Seems the Australian look like a younger Mel Gibson complete with a sexy accent. Karla, that's her name, said he just looked out of place, hanging around on the floor. He wasn't a guest as far as she knew."

"Funny no one else mentioned him."

"Well, Mr. Morton, waitresses wouldn't be paying attention, they get non-guests eating all the time. Unless the guy was acting suspicious hanging around the front desk, the clerk would just think he was waiting for a guest."

"You're right, Pat, but he made a mistake hanging around the rooms. Look at the description we have and then look around outside on the sidewalk, Mr. Middle-age Average."

"So, when we go from here, sir?"

"Time to pay the taxi company a visit. We'll keep it nice and friendly, just looking for our missing friend."

Leaving their rooms, they stopped at the front desk to get directions to the taxi company, Chip was handed an envelope by the clerk.

"I was just going to send this up to your room, Herr Morton. It's from the landespolizei; excuse me, our state police. I hope it has some news about your friend."

"Danke."

Chip waited until he got into the car before opening the letter and laughed as he read a short note.

"It seems Art had a word with the detective and got us permits to carry concealed weapons. Our German friend wishes us luck during target practice and asks us to please be careful. He dislikes all the paperwork when someone is 'accidentally' shot.' He stuck the note in an inside pocket. "It's nice to have local backup."

They reached the taxi company without difficulty but were disappointed to find only two drivers and a female dispatcher.

"Guten Tag, gentlemen. May I help you?"

"We would like to speak to your drivers, if possible."

The dispatcher looked alarmed. "Did a cab hit your car? We are not responsible; each man has his own insurance."

"Nein, nein, our friend is missing and we are trying to retrace his steps. We believe one of your men picked up our companion at Professor von Kempner's house."

The two drivers had been eavesdropping on the conversation between the dispatcher and Chip.The taller of the two, a real Nordic type, spoke up.

"Heinrich likes to pick up fares from the professor's house; he has the hots for Frau Mueller." The two laughed.

Shaking her head, the woman added, "He would not like to hear you say that, Josef." Turning back to Chip, she said, "Herr Schmidt usually is our dispatcher but he also drives from time to time. He needed to take some time off for health reasons. I'm just filling in until he returns; my husband owns the garage next door plus this business."

"Can you give us his address? It's very important we speak to him."

"He's out of town, getting some special treatments, but should be back day after tomorrow. I can have him call you if he knows anything. We did have the polizei asking if any of our cabs were missing or had an accident. We are all accounted for. Why do you think Schmidt could help you?"

"We're not sure, we would like to speak to everyone. Since he is off ill, maybe he wasn't questioned by the authorities. We thought maybe our friend got picked up and then changed his mind. I'm not sure what the police had asked." Chip put on his boyish charm, the smile that always got him the extra helping of dessert from his grandmother. "Please, we are desperate to find our friend. Who knows what could have happened to him. He could be hurt or sick."

The puppy dog expression apparently did the trick. "Don't you fret, young man, I'll make sure all of our people speak to you. Three more are due back within the next 15 to 20 minutes. I'll get you some coffee while you're waiting, but you can start with those two over there."

"Danke," Chip replied and turned up the wattage on the smile. "We appreciate your help."

The Seaview men walked over to the drivers and with great politeness started asking them questions. Both men had worked that afternoon but were sure neither took the call to von Kempner's house. The younger of the two stated he picked up two American ladies from the hotel around 11 and spent the day driving them around sightseeing and shopping here and the next town over. He returned around 8 PM. The size of the tip he received made the day stick in his head.

The other driver, the one who had mentioned Heinrich, had been busy the whole day but also denied receiving a summons to the Professor's house. He had driven Frau Mueller a couple of times when the professor's old junker wouldn't start. He couldn't remember anyone getting a call in the past week but, of course, he was in and out a lot.

The woman returned with coffee and cookies. "It was the 24th that you are interested in, wasn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am, between 5 and 6 PM."

"Please, my name is Eva. We don't keep track of the fares for each driver since we are just a central dispatch but each driver is required to sign in each day. I have the sheet here so you can make sure you don't miss anyone."

"Danke, Eva. This is excellent coffee."

"And wonderful cookies," Ski added, figuring a little extra flattery wouldn't hurt.

The phone rang and Eva returned to business, sending out the younger driver. In the meantime, Pat had taken his coffee and wandered next door to the garage where a teenage boy was helping the middle-aged man who had just slid under a car. Keeping his distance so as to not disturb the workers, Patterson watched the boy hand the mechanic the tools as he worked under the automobile. He must've called for something not in the box as the youngster took off towards the back room. The other man yelled for a screwdriver and impatiently reached out his hand. Pat hurried over and grabbed what he hoped was the correct size, squatted down and placed it in the man's hand. Another demand came and Pat said a silent thank you to his high school German teacher as he handed over the tool.

By this time, the teenager had returned and started apologizing to the American. The mechanic, hearing the two voices, slipped out from under the car. He was angry with his helper and mortified that a stranger had been helping him. Pat assured him it was no problem; he had worked during high school at his uncle's garage and still enjoyed tinkering with cars. It took a while to get that all out, groping for the right words in his rusty Germanic vocabulary. By the polite grins on their faces he realized he needn't have bothered, both spoke English.

The mechanic turned out to be the garage owner and Eva's husband and the teenage boy was their son. Wiping off his hand the owner shook Patterson's while at the same time sending his son under the car to retrieve the tools left behind.

"You have car trouble? I'm a very good mechanic."

"Nein, my companions are next-door. We are looking for a missing friend and hope one of the taxi drivers can help us locate him."

"I see my wife is taking good care of you. I can use a coffee break myself." Turning to his son who was sliding out from under the car, he instructed him to fill up the tank and take the car out for a brief test drive. Pat laughed as the boy jumped to his feet, anxious to get behind the wheel of the vehicle. In his rush, the teenager dropped the screwdriver and it rolled towards Pat's feet. He bent down and froze as he started to straighten up. Pat couldn't believe his eyes. He thrust the tool into the startled man's hand, and hurried back to Chip and Ski.

In the short time that passed with him next-door, two taxis had returned and Morton was beginning to question the cabbies. Wanting to be sure, Pat checked out their cabs before speaking to the XO.

"Excuse me, Mr. Morton. But can I see you for a minute?"

Chip looked at the rate, wondering what was so important to interrupt him. He told Ski to continue with the two men and walked over to where Patterson stood next to the two vehicles.

"Okay Pat, you look like you hit the jackpot. What is it?"

"Look sir, the front of the cabs."

Chip followed Pat's finger to where he pointed.

"BIT BK 726 and BIT AH 869, don't you see, sir. Look at our car; SPA AF 477. The car at the garage is BIT AH 901. The professor was telling you a license plate number."

Pat's excited voice drew Eva and her husband Richard's attention and they joined Chip, who quickly turned to them with a question.

"The license plates, they all begin with BIT?"

"Yes, cars registered in each town begin with their initials, depending on the size of the town or city it could be one or more initials. Hamburg is an H, and Munich an M, while in Bitburg we use BIT."

"Our rental is SPR."

"Yes, the rental agency has several offices in Berlin and Hamburg and some other places. But since you could turn your car in another office you wouldn't necessarily have SPR."

"But there's no rental office here, so no BIT?"

"No, that's why the taxi business does so well."

"Danke, you have been very helpful, Eva. I have one more favor. Do you have the license plate numbers for all the cars that work out of your building?"

Once again, the phone started ringing but this time Eva ignored it and one of the drivers answered. He had just hung up when it rang again and once more before he was able to walk away. Soon all three cabs pulled out in different directions to pick up their fares. Eva had returned with the ledger containing the drivers' information. There were currently fifteen men using the dispatch office. It took only a few minutes to find BIT AH 992 listed under Heinrich Schmidt. Finally, a solid lead. He had to be the driver that picked up Lee at the professor's. Von Kempner unconsciously committed the plate to memory as he watched the taxi drive away.

"You think Schmidt is involved in the disappearance of your friend?"

Chip was in a bind. Both Eva and Richard appeared to be friendly and honest, how could he be sure they were not involved?

Richard spoke up. "I thought there was something fishy about his going off for these special treatments. He doesn't take fares very often but other drivers have been complaining he chooses some of the best calls for himself. We don't get many important people. Occasionally Professor von Kempner would have a visitor, some scientist or government person visit. And we have another retired professor, a mathematician; former colleagues from all over the world come to see him, along with some of his past students. My niece helps out when he has company and she's always telling me about these brilliant men. Schmidt seemed to assign himself to these two places a lot. I thought it was because he liked to practice speaking in different languages."

"This man Schmidt, he has a talent for languages?"

"Yes, sir, Herr Schmidt speaks at least six that I know of. He boasts about it. German and English of course, plus Russian, Chinese, French and some mid-eastern one, never really asked him what it was. One more thing I just recall. Around three years ago a fare of Heinrich's was mugged; I believe he was seriously injured. It stands out in my mind because it was strange his wallet hadn't been stolen but his briefcase was. This man was a student of Herr Klink. The polizei came around to question Schmidt."

"Let me guess, Herr Schmidt wasn't here, another medical emergency?"

"Yes, said the stress of the event brought on a relapse. He was gone for a week, I believe."

Chip was even more positive Schmidt was their man. Eva wrote down the man's address and phone number, and both promised not to say anything to him when he returned to work. They thanked the owners and return to the hotel where Chip placed a call to the Detective Brenner who had so graciously provided the gun permits.

"Very well, Herr Morton. I will check into Herr Schmidt's background. A quick examination shows no criminal activity on our computer, but we will continue to investigate him. I plan to question his neighbors, can always use the ruse of a security check for a government job. Perhaps our mutual friend Herr Gordon can also investigate with his employers."

Morton thanked him and disconnected the phone.

"What next, sir? This guy won't be back for almost two days." Ski was anxious to do something to help the skipper.

"The police promised to send a copy of Schmidt's photo off his driver's license. We can show it to Karla and the night clerk to make sure he's the same man. Until then, we'll go back to the base and radio Seaview from the flying sub. The admiral's waiting for an update and I'm sure he'll have questions. I'll put a call in to Admiral Johnson to have him check on Schmidt. It'll be safer if they contact Gordon. When we return, the photo should be waiting for us. We need that to speak to Frau Mueller again. She might remember seeing Schmidt loitering around the professor's place. The more ammo we have on him, the better it will be when we finally 'talk' to him."

Patterson and Kowalski both knew what was going to happen during that talk if Morton's tone and expression meant anything.

Once aboard FS 1, and after speaking to Johnson to request a deep background check, Chip raised Seaview without any difficulty. He was quickly patched through to the admiral, who was asleep in his cabin.

"Good news about your lead, it's inconvenient this character isn't around so you could question him immediately. I wish we could be sure he's going to return, that he hasn't taken off for good."

"I can't guarantee it, Admiral, but Richard and Eva both said he has taken time off for these so-called medical treatments four times before. When they thought it through, all those times connected when he had one of his special fares."

"Definitely not the mastermind, but someone who passes on information to his boss plus a little surveillance of select VIPs. With his language skills, he's a very valuable asset."

"I wonder how much he knows and can he tell us where Lee is?"

"I believe you'll find he knows just so much, maybe one or two others he can give up - if he is properly persuaded. This is sounding more and more like a very well organized bunch of criminals."

"No one knows too much, and their leader remains safely anonymous."

"I'm afraid you are correct, Mr. Morton. You'll just have to make him talk, then work your way up the chain. It's Lee's only chance. Keep in contact with me. Seaview will be running on the surface from 2100 to 2200 Zulu time each night, so you can contact us on your cell. I'll speak with Admiral Johnson and light a fire under him to get the information. He's more concerned about terrorist activity than finding Lee," Nelson said grimly.

"Aye, sir. I'm meeting with Otto Benner, the police detective, tomorrow morning after breakfast. He's sure he'll have some information for us by then. I plan to take Kowalski and Patterson to the Frankford consulate to speak with Lee's contact. Ski and Pat can show the photo around the area, someone might remember seeing him. It's a long shot, but there's not much else to do until we can question Schmidt."

"Good idea, Mr. Morton. We will be waiting for your next report."

Nelson had a short but loud conversation with Admiral Johnson, making sure he got his point across. It looked like Crane had accidentally stumbled onto an illegal information gathering organization. Stealing scientific discoveries could make any company rich, not to mention nations willing to purchase these advances to make their military stronger.

If Lee was aware of any such Intel from the professor's manuscript, he would hold out as long as possible, even if his life depended on it, to prevent the wrong people from gaining access. Or possibly, if whoever kidnapped him did it for the knowledge Lee had regarding Seaview, the admiral knew his captain wouldn't think twice about sacrificing himself to protect Seaview's secrets. But a man can only withstand so much before he cracks. And as much as Lee tried to deny it, he was human and had a breaking point. No one would fault him, no one but himself if he revealed any classified information.

Hang on, Lee. Wherever you are, hang on, son, help is coming.

Admiral Nelson, now wide-awake, left his cabin. If her captain was unable to do the late night walkabout that Crane was famous for, it might instill confidence in the crew to see a familiar routine continue. Maybe Nelson could urge the boat to an extra knot or two.

His first stop was to the galley for a cup of java, it was going to be a long day. Might as well start it off with a strong jolt of caffeine.

He visited the engineering, circuitry, and missile rooms, where everything was running smoothly as usual. His last stop was the con where Lieutenant Maxwell had the watch.

"Everything running alright, Mr. Maxwell?"

"Yes, sir. The weather forecast calls for calm for the next 48 hours. We should be able to stay on course without any trouble. I just checked our position. We're two hours ahead of schedule. It's almost like the boat knows how urgent it is to get to our destination."

The admiral wasn't surprised. With the surreal attachment Lee had with his gray lady, Nelson wouldn't be amazed by anything Seaview would do for her captain. He poured himself another cup of coffee from the ever-present carafe in the observation deck and stood by the window staring out, unable to see much in the deep dark sea. Suddenly the lights came on, illuminating the area. He turned and nodded his thanks to Maxwell before returning his attention to the water. Would Lee ever be standing here again? Could Chip find him before too much damage was done to his often-abused body? Or were they all deluding themselves that Captain Crane was still alive?

He placed his palm on the herculite window as if Seaview could answer his questions. Nelson didn't know how long he stood like that, but eventually he became aware of Mr. Maxwell standing next to him.

"Sir, maybe you should try to get some rest. There is nothing that needs your attention right now. And if I may respectfully point out, once we reach Germany you're going to need to be at the top of your game, sir."

"It's just so damn hard, Cam, not being able to do anything."

"Maybe not right now, Admiral, but pretty soon. We haven't failed yet in our rescues of Captain Crane, and we won't this time either."

Nelson, smiling, turned to regard the young officer. If - when - they got Lee back, it was men like this, young, determined, officers, and enlisted, who would make the difference in any situation.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Carry on."

"Aye, aye, sir."