A handful of sailors worked at the controls, and she avoided their gazes. If possible, the engine room would be the best place for the mine. Surely the diesel oil would amplify the mine’s explosion. At the very least, the engines would be damaged, making it easier for the Royal Navy to chase down the U-boat.
If she couldn’t find a place to hide her suitcase in the engine room, she’d leave it on her bunk in the aft torpedo room and hope the mine’s explosion set off a torpedo as well.
Cilla passed between long banks of engines as high as her head. On each side, the engine housing rounded down toward the hull.
Toward the end of the engine room, she glanced around her shoulder. About fifty feet behind her, the sailors had their backs to her, absorbed in their duties.
No time to think. She pressed up on her toes, swung the suitcase with the mine over the top of the engine, and let it slide down toward the hull.
Cringing, she waited.
No explosion. No thump of suitcase down to the deck. It must have wedged in place.
A long breath flowed out. Cilla proceeded through the electric motor room and through another round hatch into the aft torpedo room, where she tossed her remaining suitcase onto a cot in case Kraus went that way.
She glanced at her watch. Only a few minutes until Lachlan’s fake sabotage.
As Cilla rushed back the way she came, she allowed memories of him to flood her mind—his smile, his embrace, his enchanting brogue. At least she’d never see the return of cold, hard fury onto his beloved face. Of disappointment and betrayal.
Cilla shook herself and climbed the ladder up through theconning tower. The performance of her life awaited her, and she summoned up cheer and confidence.
Sailors and officers crowded both platforms. On the top platform, Kraus stood by the railing in his army officer’s cap and greatcoat, and men parted ways to allow her through, greeting her with enthusiasm.
The first smile of the evening shone on Kraus’s round face. “A few more minutes, ja?”
“Ja.” Cilla gripped the railing in her gloved hands. The silhouette of Dunnet Head rose to the southeast. To the northeast, the dark mounds of the Orkney Islands sheltered the waters of Scapa Flow.
On such a clear night, the explosions on the blockship should be visible from their vantage point.
“Your men knew how to use our explosives?” Kraus said with a note of disbelief.
“They are very clever, and I trained them well.” She gave an exasperated sigh. “I do wish you’d trusted my abilities and hadn’t sent Jericho. And I do wish I could have been there tonight as I requested. I should have been. But the plan is solid, and Joshua and his friends are dedicated to our cause. I’m confident in them. I—I’ll miss them.” She allowed her true grief to warble in her voice.
She’d miss Commander Yardley and Gwen, even Imogene. She’d miss Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie and Neil.
Most of all, she’d miss Lachlan.
Her breath snatched away. Right now, he hated her.
She raised a perky smile for Kraus’s benefit.
Everything she’d done tonight, from making Lachlan despise her to evading her friends at the lighthouse to planting the mine, was for them.
She might not have done the right thing, but she’d done the only thing.
****
Never in his life had Lachlan Mackenzie acted without thought or plan. Now, without either, he raced at full speed in the fast motorboat to the coordinates Cilla had provided. Even if false, the coordinates hit the center of the arc of possible positions, as good a starting point as any.
At Dunnet Head, he’d commandeered Yardley’s staff car and careened down to Brough. At the pier, he’d ordered the boat’s crew to start the motor—and then ordered them to shore, overriding their mighty objections by pulling rank and absolving them of all blame. He told them he was going on a rescue mission, but a dangerous one. He refused to risk their lives.
Lachlan swept his gaze across the waters and gripped the wheel.
He had no idea what he was going to do. As a transport vessel, the motorboat had no weapons, and Lachlan’s revolver was no match for a U-boat’s machine guns.
Regardless, he unbuttoned his greatcoat for easier access to his revolver.
His only hope was to reach Cilla before she boarded the submarine. Maybe if Kraus observed the sabotage, he’d radio that news to Hamburg even in Cilla’s absence. Maybe Kraus would simply assume she’d been delayed. Maybe the Royal Navy would sink the U-boat before doubts of her loyalty could be raised. Maybe that would be enough to spare the van der Zee family and the secrecy of the Double Cross program.
