Thunder Point by Jack Higgins Read Free Book Online Page B

room.”
    “Garth, I’ve got a problem, I thought you might be able to help. I’ve found a U-boat.”
    “You’ve what?”
    “An honest-to-God U-boat, out here in the Virgins, on a reef about eighty feet down. One-eighty was the number on the conning tower. It’s a type seven.”
    Travers’ own excitement was extreme. “I’m not going to ask you if you’ve been drinking. But why on earth has no one discovered it before?”
    “Garth, there are hundreds of wrecks in these waters; we don’t know the half of it. This is in a bad place, very dangerous. No one goes there. It’s half on a ledge which was protected by an overhang, or I miss my guess. There’s a lot of fresh damage to the cliff face. We’ve just had a hurricane.”
    “So what condition is she in?”
    “There was a gash in the hull and I managed to get in the control room. I found a briefcase in there, a watertight job in aluminium.”
    “With a Kriegsmarine insignia engraved in the top right-hand corner?”
    “That’s right!”
    “Standard issue, fireproof and waterproof, all that sort of thing. What did you say the number was, one-eighty? Hang on a minute and I’ll look it up. I’ve got a book on one of my shelves that lists every U-boat commissioned by the Kriegsmarine during the War and what happened to them.”
    “Okay.”
    Baker waited patiently until Travers returned. “We’ve got a problem, old son, you’re certain this was a type seven?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Well the problem is that one-eighty was a type nine, dispatched to Japan from France in August forty-four with technical supplies. She went down in the Bay of Biscay.”
    “Is that so?” Baker said. “Well how does this grab you? I found the personal diary of a Korvettenkapitän Paul Friemel in that briefcase and the final entry is dated May twenty-eighth, nineteen forty-five.”
    “But V.E. day in Europe was May the eighth,” Travers said.
    “Exactly, so what have we got here? A German submarine with a false number that goes down in the Virgins three weeks after the end of the bloody war.”
    “It certainly is intriguing,” Travers said.
    “You haven’t heard the best bit, old buddy. Remember all those stories about Martin Bormann having escaped from Berlin?”
    “Of course I do.”
    “Well I can’t read German, but I sure can read his name and it’s right here in the diary, and another little bombshell for you. So is the Duke of Windsor’s.”
    Travers loosened his tie and took a deep breath. “Henry, old son, I must see that diary.”
    “Yes, that’s what I thought,” Baker said. “There’s the British Airways overnight flight leaving Antigua around eight this evening our time. I should be able to make it. Last time I used it we got into London Gatwick at nine o’clock in the morning. Maybe you could give me a late breakfast.”
    “I’ll be looking forward to that,” Travers said and replaced the receiver.
     
     
    The Professional Association of Diving Instructors, of which Henry was a certificated member, has strict regulations about flying after diving. He checked his book of rules and discovered that he should wait at least four hours after a single no-decompression dive at eighty feet. That gave him plenty of leeway, especially if he didn’t fly down to Antigua until the afternoon, which was exactly what he intended.
    First he rang British Airways in San Juan. Yes, they had space in the first-class cabin on BA flight 252 leaving Antigua at 20.10 hours. He made the booking and gave them one of his Gold Card numbers. Next he rang Carib Aviation in Antigua, an air-taxi firm he’d used before. Yes, they were happy to accept the charter. They’d send up one of their Partenavias early afternoon to St. Thomas. If they left for the return trip to Antigua at four-thirty, they’d be there by six at the latest.
    He sat back, thinking about it. He’d book a water taxi across to Charlotte Amalie, the main town on St. Thomas. Forty minutes, that’s all