Free The Heirs of Babylon by Glen Cook Page A

leaves."

    "Babies. But I like the home-brewing method better."

    Kurt thought this was too near bringing up Karen's
    pregnancy. He and Hans were getting on remarkably well.
    No point in chafing old wounds.

    Guilt knifed across his thoughts. Karen had been out of

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    mind for several days. Bad. A husband should think of his
    wife often. Briefly, he wondered if she had begun her trip
    to Norway yet. Probably. It was easy enough. She could
    walk north through Jutland, take a fishing boat across the
    Skagerrak. It was done all the time. ... He hurt.
    Homesickness was worse than seasickness, took longer to
    heal.

    "Almost time for our reliefs," he said. "Think I'll work on my track for the Bay of Biscay."

    "What's the hurry? You've got till tomorrow night."

    "Maybe. But I want to be ready." The charts were the only excuse he could think of for going away.

    Kurt's timing played him false. As he approached the
    chart table, Gregor whispered, "Beck wants to see you
    after watch." Intense bitterness momentarily marred his features.

    Heart in throat when the watch was done, Kurt went
    down to officers' country. His hands were clammy and
    shook as if he suffered Haber's disorder. Why would Beck
    call for him? He had nothing to do with anything. . . .

    Beck's "Come" when Kurt knocked was a ghost of the ghost his voice had always been. "Sir, you shouldn't be sitting up. . . ." Nor should he have been talking—though his speech was confined to a whisper—through such a
    savaged throat.

    "You found me." It was an almost inaudible statement.
    "You kept me alive. I thank you. But why? I'd've thought you partial to those who prefer me dead."

    "Sir?" As pretended disbelief Kurt's gasp rang entirely false. Certainly, Beck sensed it.

    "I know more than you think. I knew Franck, or
    someone like him, would appear wherever we refueled.
    There were just three stopping places under consideration
    when we left Kiel, and they were sure to know them all."
    He coughed lightly. "I have my own sources, who predict-ed the attack. But Franck had done his homework too."
    Beck's face turned sour. "He knew just the way to goad me. . . . There's a man in Personnel at Gibraltar who'll be sorry."

    Silently, Kurt wondered where Beck was leading.

    "Why did you save me, Ranke?"

    "Sir?" He was still uncertain himself. "I don't know.
    You were hurt. It didn't matter who you were. . . ." He shut up.

    Beck coughed again, said, "No need for fear. I want
    frank talk. Anyway, I've grown accustomed to dislike. So,

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    you would've done it for anyone? It wasn't a matter of
    loyalty?" He seemed disappointed by Kurt's nod.

    "Ranke, I've been watching you. Nothing personal, un-
    derstand, but Leading Quartermaster's an important posi-
    tion. Your knowledge makes you essential to ship's oper-
    ations. I've come to think you're a very well-educated,
    ignorant young man."

    Kurt frowned.

    "No insult intended. What I mean is, you've plenty of
    book learning, but aren't very world-wise. Will you keep
    confidential what's said here?"

    Kurt nodded, though he could conceive of no secrets
    Beck would willingly impart.

    "Good. Have you heard of an organization fighting
    High Command?"

    Kurt honestly had not. He said as much.

    "That's why I say you're not world-wise. There've been a lot of rumors about it lately. And the organization
    exists. It's very small, very secret, with an excellent es-
    pionage system in Gibraltar, the Littoral, and elsewhere.
    Rumor and subtle sabotage are its weapons. It's based in
    Norway, somewhere in Telemark . . ." Kurt's startlement must have shown. Beck asked, "Ring a bell?"

    "Just surprised me, sir. I know people who went to
    Telemark."

    "Yes, don't you?" Beck's gaze was piercing. He coughed again, grimaced. "This organization's too small to hamper High Command, yet its very existence has created a policy
    crisis at Gibraltar. The Political Office in particular has split over what action to take. One party demands