Free The Passenger by F. R. Tallis Page A

a transgression that might not be readily overlooked. They were defying Nature or Neptune or some other proprietary Personification and when the pointer on the manometer revolved, it measured not only depth, but increments of dread. The pounding of the diesels ceased, and it wasn’t until the maneuver was successfully completed that the tension in the atmosphere finally dissipated. Their hubris had gone unnoticed, or some kindly god had granted them yet another dispensation.
    Lorenz sat at the attack periscope in the conning tower, securing his position by clamping his thighs around either side of the shaft. He switched on the motor and tested the pedals, rotatingthe column and saddle to the right and left. His fingers found the elevation control, and he raised the periscope. Conditions were very favorable, the ‘stalk’ was traveling in the same direction as the sea, and the waves were washing over the hood from behind. He was able to keep the objective low in the water, reducing the chances of being spotted while simultaneously benefiting from a clear view. Falk was standing by the computer, lightly touching its dials and buttons as if he needed to reacquaint himself with their function. There was something superstitious about his redundant movements. He seemed to be performing a private ritual.
    The hatch in the deck that separated the conning tower from the control room was supposed to be closed during an underwater attack, but Lorenz always kept it open because he liked to feel in direct contact with the men below. He liked to hear Graf’s instructions and to monitor the steady flow of reports. As they drew closer to the convoy he called out, ‘Half speed ahead,’ ensuring that the size of the periscope’s wake would be reduced. A U-boat’s principle advantage was stealth. Without stealth, there was only vulnerability.
    Several cargo ships were now visible. Employing 6X magnification Lorenz examined each one in turn and selected his target. He then ordered another minor change of the submarine’s course. Reverting to 1X magnification he watched the two escorts sail past.
    â€˜Flood all tubes.’
    Another escort, flanking the convoy, was very close; however, U-330 was already inside the protective perimeter.
    â€˜Open torpedo outer doors. Course twenty. Bow left. Bearing sixty . . .’
    Falk began feeding the information into the computer. When he had finished he addressed Lorenz, ‘Tubes one and two ready to fire.’
    The electric motors seemed to hum more loudly. Lorenz could feel the release lever in his hand. The cargo ship was positionedperfectly in the crosshairs when, quite suddenly, it vanished, and Lorenz was gripping the periscope shaft tightly to prevent himself from falling off the saddle. The entire column had rotated forty-five degrees and stopped abruptly. Yet, he had not been conscious of applying any pressure to the pedals.
    â€˜Kaleun?’ Falk sounded worried. Was the flanking escort preparing to ram?
    The motor labored when Lorenz tried to correct the periscope. It felt as though the column was encountering some kind of resistance. When the cargo ship finally appeared in the viewfinder it had changed course slightly. ‘Damn!’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜We’ll have to start again.’ The automatic update system depended on the variables remaining constant.
    Lorenz revised the figures, and for the second time Falk declared, ‘Tubes one and two ready to fire.’ The cargo ship was back in the crosshairs, the detail of its superstructure clearly visible. Lorenz was hesitant, almost expecting the periscope to swivel around again. It had moved just as he was about to fire. The timing had been curiously precise and optimally disruptive. Indeed, it had felt more contrived than contingent, a purposeful interference, and, for an instant, it had seemed as if someone were snatching the periscope out of his hands, wresting control away