The Peregrine Omnibus, Volume Two (101 page)

“Akemi, can you manage?” Käthe asked.

“Yes. I think so.” Akemi pushed away and grabbed hold of the ladder. She began climbing, a small trickle of blood reappearing at her nose. When she was slightly less than halfway up, Imelda began ascending. Käthe went last and by the time she reached the top, allowing Sun Koh to reach out and help pull her inside, she was shivering with both exhaustion and cold.

The Heir to Atlantis wrapped a towel around her shoulders and she smiled gratefully, her teeth chattering. She saw that Imelda was drinking from a cup of coffee and that a thin man who had a professorial air about him was examining Akemi. Käthe glanced towards the cockpit, her eyes widening when she saw the slip of a girl seated at the controls.

“That is Elsa Mayen,” Sun Koh said. “And this is Arthur Grin. They are allies of mine… and I’m hoping the three of you will be, as well.”

“Of course we are,” Käthe said, accepting a cup of steaming java from the man she idolized. “We would follow you to the gates of hell.”

“I hope it won’t come to that,” Sun Koh responded, his eyes boring into hers, reminding her of the hours of physical passion they’d shared. “But I plan to win this war for the Axis. Your Fuehrer considers me a threat to his own power and wants me dead… but I’m not going to allow that to stop me from doing what’s right for our people.”

Käthe blinked at his words but she didn’t try to argue them. She could believe that Hitler would fear Sun Koh’s return. She’d seen signs of his paranoia before. “What do you have in mind?”

“I want to destroy Washington, D.C.”

* * *

The Peregrine stared at the unusual plane that was now receding into the distance. He’d thought about trying to stop The Furies from boarding it somehow but he was afraid his pistols were too waterlogged to fire and he didn’t dare risk losing the Knife of Elohim by throwing it from that distance.

“Who was that?” Fritz asked. The poor thing looked like a half-drowned rat. He was too underfed to be able to swim for very long, particularly in such choppy waters.

“If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say it was a man named Sun Koh. He’s the one I’m after. Have you heard of him?”

Fritz looked thoughtfully towards the floating wreckage of the Valkyrie. A few screams were coming from that direction, as the dying and wounded voiced their pain. “I think so… I used to read stories about him.”

“Well, he’s no hero… at least not for people who don’t fit his profile of the perfect Aryan.”

“I can’t keep going,” Fritz said and The Peregrine turned to face him.

“I can carry you for awhile.”

“You shouldn’t put yourself at risk for me.”

The Peregrine started to reassure him when he felt something strange inside his head, like a tickle. It started off so soft that he almost thought he was imagining it but then it got more intense. He must have looked as confused as he felt because Fritz was staring at him. “It’s okay,” he said. “I think… I think someone’s coming for us. We just have to hang in here.”

Fritz said nothing, obviously assuming that the masked man was simply trying to give him false hope.

The Peregrine reached inside his own soaking wet clothing and pulled out the actual Fourth Nail. He handed it to Fritz. “Take this. It’s what Mueller wanted. It’ll give you the strength you need.”

Fritz took it and moaned as the energy rushed through him. He felt that his sins—both real and imagined—were being swept away. He began to cry, for the joy of being born again, beautiful in the eyes of god. “Thank you,” he stammered. “Thank you so much.”

The Peregrine treaded water, smiling to himself. “No problem. You hang on to that for awhile, okay?”

Fritz nodded and held the nail close to his chest. Off in the distance, a vessel could be seen, slowing closing in on their position. It looked like a deep-sea fishing ship and as it got closer, The Peregrine could see that the name of the vessel was painted on the side of its hull:
The Ocean Avenger
.

The tickling sensation in The Peregrine’s brain had settled into something more familiar: the telltale mental call of an old, dear friend.

The Ocean Avenger
came towards them, slowing its progress. Several sailors leaned over the railing, throwing down ropes to the two drenched figures below. The handsome face of Ascott Keane joined the sailors in peering down at The Peregrine. Dressed in a dark jacket and well-tailored suit, the detective looked wildly out of place on the fishing vessel.

“Ascott, I could kiss you,” The Peregrine said, climbing onboard.

“That won’t be necessary,” Keane replied. “A simple thank you will more than suffice.”

“How did you find me?”

“Your wife contacted me and from there… well, to put it quite simply, it was magic.”

* * *

A few moments later, Fritz was bundled up in a heavy towel. He was sipping some warm chicken soup and looking as content as a fat cat, glad to be in the interior of the fishing vessel.

The Peregrine stood nearby, running a towel through his dripping hair. Keane was at his side, speaking in hushed tones. “I wish I could drop everything and help you but I’m in the middle of a case. It was all I could do to come and help you today… when I saw a vision that implied you might die unless I came to pull you out of the ocean, I had to put everything else on hold.”

“It’s okay. That’s one reason why I didn’t call you to begin with. I know how busy you are. Same with Leonid and the others.”

Keane looked pensive, rubbing his chin with the slender fingers of his right hand. “Still, you shouldn’t continue alone on this. Sun Koh is far too dangerous an enemy… and if he’s allied with those Furies you told me about, he’s doubly dangerous.”

“I suppose I could ask Evleyn to come with me,” Max said, shaking his head to indicate what he thought of that. “She’s really capable… but I hate to put her at risk like that. Especially now that we have a son.”

Keane nodded in understanding. He had no family himself but he could well imagine how difficult that would make an ongoing war against crime. “I will do what I can for you. Perhaps I can give you some clue about where Sun Koh can be found… your own vision let you know that Washington, D.C. is a target but that doesn’t mean that you should just camp out there waiting for him.”

“Anything you could do would be great,” The Peregrine said. He looked around the room, noting that the crew seemed perfectly at ease being around a masked man. “Do you own this ship?”

“I do. The captain was helped by me a few years ago and as payment, he gave me a share in the ownership of his boat.”

“If there’s a radio, I’d like to try and get a message to Evelyn. I want to let her know that I’m hale and hearty.”

“Feel free. The captain can show you where it’s located.” Keane placed a hand on The Peregrine’s arm as the vigilante started to move away. “May I ask what your plans are for The Fourth Nail?”

“I’d forgotten about it in the excitement of getting rescued, actually.” The Peregrine pulled out the nail from a pocket. He’d retrieved it from Fritz shortly after they’d been pulled from the sea. “I thought about returning it to Rush Randall… but the guy seemed like an arrogant jerk. I’m not sure he deserves it.”

“If you’re thinking of keeping it, you should put it someplace very secure. There will be people looking for it. I guarantee that you weren’t the first to trace it to Randall’s headquarters.”

The Peregrine handed the nail to Keane, who took it with some reluctance. “Would you…?”

“If you wish. It wouldn’t be the first artifact like this I’ve keep watch over.”

“Thanks.” The Peregrine clasped Keane on the shoulder and moved towards the captain. Keane watched him go, wondering if Max had any idea about the enormity of the responsibility he’d just placed upon him.

* * *

As night fell, Wilhelm Mueller managed to pull himself atop a scrap of metal debris from the Valkyrie. He was shivering from the cold and his eyes burned from the saltwater. He had lost his monocle on the long tumble through the sky but it was the least of his concerns. He had lost his crew, his vessel and his chance at spiritual redemption. Now all he had left was his life… and that was not worth very much at present. A shark’s fin cut through the water, circling the makeshift raft on which Mueller lay sprawled. The sharks had begun appearing hours ago, making quick work of many of the survivors. Mueller himself had stabbed one of the beasts in the eye with his dagger, losing the weapon when the shark swam away, bleeding profusely. From the churning of the water that had followed, Mueller assumed the ocean predator had become food for his brethren, which pleased him somewhat.

Stretching out on his back, Mueller looked up at the nighttime sky and wondered how long he could survive out here. Would help eventually arrive? And if it did, what was the likelihood that it would be anyone who wouldn’t simply throw him into a dank cell, treating him as a prisoner of war?

The water to his left suddenly began stirring and Mueller raised his head to peer into the gloom. He assumed the sharks were on another feeding frenzy but he wasn’t sure what they could be feasting upon.

What he saw made him sit up quickly and grab his knife. It was a submarine, looking like some horrible metal-encased monster emerging from the depths. There were no markings on the ship, nothing to tell if it were an Allied or Axis vessel. Furthermore, it didn’t quite look like any submarine that Mueller was familiar with. It was a little too long and a bit too curved, giving it the general shape of a French crescent roll. Why anyone would design it in such a fashion was beyond him.

The hatch on top of the submarine opened with a clang and a man dressed in a plain gray jumpsuit emerged. He was of Oriental descent and large goggles covered his eyes. “If you wish to live, you will come onboard,” the man said in heavily accented but still fluent German.

“Are you part of the Japanese navy?”

The man’s lips turned downward into an expression of annoyance. “I am not Japanese. I am Korean.”

Mueller held his tongue. He thought all Orientals looked alike but given the choices presented him, he thought being polite might serve him better. He scrambled onto the submarine, moving like a crab until he reached the hatch. The man had disappeared within the ship by this time and Mueller threw himself into the opening, climbing down below. It stank to high heaven, as all submarines did. So much time spent in a cramped environment did terrible things to hygiene, Mueller had found.

Mueller found himself surrounded by a half dozen men, all dressed in identical gray jumpsuits that featured no ornamentation of any kind. The dim lighting did allow Mueller to note that the men appeared to be of all different ethnicities. In fact, one of the men was a Negro, which gave Mueller pause. What kind of ship would allow a black to serve on the crew?

“Welcome onboard,” a booming voice said from behind Mueller. The Nazi captain turned to see a barrel-chested man watching him closely. The man had a short, bristle-like white salt-and-pepper beard. He was dressed in a dark military-style uniform, though once again it bore no signs of national allegiance. Small black gloves covered the man’s hands but Mueller thought there were something odd about the fellow’s fingers, as if he were missing the small finger from each hand.

“I am Captain Wilhelm Mueller. May I ask what country you serve?”

“We serve no country,” the man replied, continuing to speak in German, though Mueller could tell that it was not his native tongue. “And I know who you are. You were in command of that airship that went belly-up.”

Mueller tightened his jaw. “Am I to understand that you control a rogue submarine?”

“Yes. You understand correctly. My name is Felipe Melo and you can swear allegiance to me or we will put a bullet in your brain and throw your body out to the sharks.”

Mueller stared at the man in amazement. “Allegiance? What would that mean? You want me to become a member of your crew?”

“I want to you help me complete our sacred mission. It’s a mission that you have an interest in as well. I want you to help me capture The Fourth Nail.”

CHAPTER IX

Devil’s Bargain

Mueller was invited to dine with Melo and his crew, an offer that he could not refuse. The food was surprisingly pleasant, if somewhat plain. The entire crew assembled in the mess hall and Mueller was seated to the captain’s right.

For the first few moments of dinner, there was no talking and the only noise to be heard over the din of the engines were the scrapings of silverware against plates. It was finally Melo was broke the relative silence, sitting back and belching before addressing Mueller.

“Are you familiar with The Knights Templar?” he asked, a line of questioning that left Mueller momentarily stunned.

“I know that the group existed for nearly two centuries and was officially endorsed by the Catholic Church, until King Philip IV of France began condemning them. He rounded up many of their orders and accused them of blasphemy. Pope Clement V disbanded the Order in 1312.”

Melo smiled broadly. “You are very well read, Mr. Mueller. You almost sound you’re reciting facts from a history book.”

“That’s basically what I’m doing. I only know of the Templars from school textbooks.”

“Well, the Templars are not dead. They continue to exist under a dozen or more names. My crew and I are affiliated with one such survivor organization. We travel the globe, collecting artifacts that can be brought together for the praise of almighty God. And if they have great monetary value, all the better.” Melo added this with a grin.

“And how did you get this submarine?” Mueller asked.

“The Order has ships and planes at its disposal. I served for several years in the navy of my birth country before I was recruited into The Order. Now I live at sea, traveling around the world in search of treasure. We had men watching the residence of Rush Randall—they saw The Peregrine leave with the nail and they observed him return to your airship. After that, I was dispatched to follow you. When your ship went down, we laid low until the time was right to rescue you.” Melo’s smile faded. “Since you don’t have the nail, I’m assuming that The Peregrine still has it?”