The Saboteurs by Clive Cussler (top 10 best books of all time .TXT) 📗

smug self-satisfaction. The job was almost completed, and despite a few minor glitches, mostly the interference of Isaac Bell, it had gone well. Otto Dreissen had just arrived with Court Talbot. They’d linked up in Colón and were motored out to sea for the rendezvous.

Two other men in the room—other than the steward, who was smoking, and Dreissen’s ever-present servant, Heinz Kohl—were both in the Imperial German Navy. One was the captain of the support ship, named for Otto Dreissen’s daughter, Dagna. The second was Max Grosse, the captain of the airship Cologne. Grosse had the distinction of commanding the first transatlantic flight, as well as being the man with the most hours aloft in Essenwerks’s airships. A former pilot for Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin, Grosse had switched companies when he learned of the vast superiority of Essenwerks’s dirigibles. There was a fifth man there, also dressed as a civilian, but he was addressed as “Major.”

He nonchalantly draped one leg over the other as he slouched deeper into one of the chairs around the ten-seat oak table. “It is too early, just yet, for the champagne. Two more mines should still be placed, since we were provided a surplus. While not necessary according to our calculations, they will boost the shock wave that will dislodge the spillway from the rest of the Gatun Dam.”

“English, please,” Talbot reminded him.

“Sorry, Court,” the Major said, grinning. “Too much German in my English.”

Talbot frowned. He was being mocked for a linguistic mistake that had almost blown both their covers. “Go to hell.”

The Major gave him a dead-eyed stare. “When this is over, I would very much like the opportunity to prove that you are not as tough as you think you are.”

Talbot shot to his feet. “Let’s do it right now.”

Dreissen said, “Enough.” Then he noticed the Major had pulled a Luger pistol from beneath his coat. “Put that away.”

As a precaution to protect his employer, Heinz Kohl had also pulled his weapon, a revolver, he kept secreted in the small of his back.

The two naval officers were astute enough to step back. There was no clear chain of command, at present, and though Dreissen was a civilian, he owned the airship the German Navy had been testing for the past few months under a lease agreement. The American was just a mercenary in their eyes but he had been vital to their operation. The Major outranked the two Captains, but he was Army—Sektion IIIb, to be exact.

That was the intelligence arm of the German General Staff—spies. No traditional soldier or sailor worth his salt held anything but contempt for those in the espionage business. It was within the purview of liars, thieves, and assassins, not a place for an upright gentleman of noble character. Which is why it came as no surprise the Major was quick to escalate a simple clash of egos by brandishing a pistol.

“I said enough,” Dreissen repeated. “You two want to fight it out, do it on your own time.”

“Of course, Herr Dreissen,” the Major said with a sugary smile and holstered his gun. Talbot sat down without saying anything.

Dreissen turned his attention to the two military men. “I’m concerned that time is running out. Roosevelt will be here in a couple days, and we have two more charges we can plant. While I understand they are supplemental mines not necessary for our success, I would still like the extra insurance they represent. The weather has delayed too many of our flights, and I can’t chance not completing the task tonight. Captain Grosse, I understand you fly with only one mine at a time. Can the Cologne carry two?”

Grosse stroked his mustache, an exact copy of the Kaiser’s. “We have the lifting capacity, yes, but the ship’s controls will be sluggish. If there is even the slightest breeze, I fear we can’t navigate her inside the valley.”

“So, it’s risky but feasible?”

“Ja.”

“How about it, Mr. Talbot?” Dreissen asked. “Can your boat handle two of our mines?”

Talbot shook his head. “Weight’s no problem, it’s the room. The working deck of my boat just isn’t big enough for two.” Dreissen tried to speak, but the newly minted mercenary overrode him. “But we’ve got ourselves a good camp out there, with a log dock strong enough to hold the extra mine. You lower them down one at a time. First onto the boat, second the dock. We head out and set the first one, then use our winch to lift aboard the second.”

The airship commander looked thoughtful for a moment. “If the weather conditions are favorable, that would work. The boat and the dock will be side by side?”

“Yes. You wouldn’t have to maneuver at all, just maintain a hover. Me and my men can guide the mines using the ropes you’ve tied to them aboard the ship, like always.”

Dreissen was relieved. He’d gambled big and it was about to pay off. Germany was about to gain a great deal of prestige and a stronger financial position with the Argentine government, thanks to his scheme. And soon, the expansionist Roosevelt would be dead, and Woodrow Wilson would likely be reelected in a few years. Foreign affairs did not interest him, meaning Germany’s future plans would face little challenge from the United States.

As for himself, he figured his exile to the backwaters of the world was at an end. He would return to Germany and accept a place in the Kaiser’s inner circle of advisers, steering weapons contracts to the family business. And, he thought, it might actually be enjoyable living at home with his wife and daughters, for a change, and maybe it was time to try for a son.

No matter what, Dreissen knew, he would find a way to enjoy the fruits of his ambition.

He roused himself from his musings. “Court, what about after the last charge has been placed?”

“I’m not going to risk Bell figuring out my role with the Viboras. His amnesia was a godsend, but if he remembers anything,