“Of course.” Nordstrum smiled at the child. “I understand.”
There were now eleven minutes to go until the charges were set to blow. Then pandemonium would reign across the ship. Nordstrum made his way back on deck. He looked around. He didn’t see any sign of Lund or any of the Hirden, though he definitely had the feeling he was being watched. The ferry had now reached full speed, around thirteen knots, and was approaching the center of the lake, its two coal-fired engines chugging and chugging. On each side, the shore was less than a mile away, hopefully close enough for help to reach them. He walked toward the rear on the main deck. A few of the stouter souls were braving the breeze on deck. In the sun, and protected from the wind by the top deck and wheelhouse, he saw Natalie and her grandfather on the benches, just as he had urged her to be. She sat bundled up in her purple wool wrap, a scarf around her hair. No hat this time. It made him smile.
It was 10:38. Seven minutes. He took a last look around. A lifeboat station was positioned directly across from them.
Now was the time.
He went up and sat himself in the vacant chair next to her. “Natalie, don’t be alarmed.”
“Knut?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “I mean, Kurt. What are you doing here? You said you had to be in—”
“Natalie, please, you and your grandfather must listen to me carefully.” Nordstrum moved closer and spoke in a voice that was low, but direct, careful not to be overheard and start a panic. “You must remain by this lifeboat. In a minute or two there will be an explosion. I’ve come onboard to help you.”
“An explosion?” She looked at him, disbelief written on her face. “What are you talking about, Kurt?”
“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you remain precisely here. In a couple of minutes the ship will dramatically pitch forward.”
“Pitch forward?” She stared at him, a mix of consternation and rising horror in her eyes. “How do you possibly know this? You…? You are responsible for this? You put a bomb onboard? Why…? Look around, people are going to be—”
“I know precisely what’s going to happen, Natalie.” He put his hand on her arm with a quick glance at his watch. “All that matters is when I give you the signal, you and your grandfather both hold on as tightly as you can to the seats in front of you. I’ll help you to the boat. With any luck—”
“With any luck, what?” She cut him off. Her look sliced to his heart. “We must warn everyone. Who are you, Kurt…?”
“Natalie—”
Suddenly he heard his name shouted from behind. “Nordstrum!”
It was Lund.
He looked at Natalie with a mixture of inevitability and regret and opened his jacket, placing his hand around his Colt. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I only meant the best for you.”
“My God!” Her eyes widened as she saw the gun.
He lifted his other hand from her and stood up.
The Hirden captain had his gun pointed at him from across the deck. A few people gasped. “Kurt Nordstrum. Nice to finally see you again. You must know I’ve looked forward to this moment for a long time. Since I first knew that you had come back. I believe I owe you something, for the death of Lieutenant Oleg Rand, a true patriot. Move away from Fraulein Ritter, if you please. I’m sure you wish her no harm. And don’t do anything foolish. Put your hands in the air.”
He did take a step away, out of the row of seats to near the gunwales. But he kept his hands by his sides.
“Why are you on this boat?” Lund kept his gun extended, stepping forward. “Something is planned, I know. Tell me what is going on. Tell me now, or you’ll be with your father sooner than you think.”
“He says there’s some kind of bomb on board.” August Ritter stood up. “He says it will explode. Any minute.”
“Papa, no, be quiet!” Natalie stood up as well.
“A bomb!” Lund’s face went ashen.
“It’s too late,” Nordstrum said to him. He gave a final glance to his watch. “Your precious cargo…” He smiled. “In a minute it will be at the bottom of the lake. There’s nothing you can do.”
Lund took out his whistle and blew four sharp peals of alarm. Gasps could be heard from the passengers nearby. Two of his fellow Hirden ran toward him.
“Natalie, hold tightly to your grandfather,” Nordstrum said to her. His watch read 10:45. “Now.” He lunged to grab hold of her.
Lund, believing his prey was trying to escape, squeezed off two rounds.
Just as the explosion rocked the ship.
It was muffled, more like a rumble from below. Toward the bow. But like an earthquake, it sent a ripple from fore to aft. The boat pitched forward with a violent wave. People were hurled about—one falling with a shout from the top deck into the icy water, others flung across the floorboards or into the walls. Or into the lake as well. The ship came to a sudden stop. There was shouting everywhere: wails of anguish, panic. People lunging to grasp hold of their loved ones. One of the Hirden was pitched into the water. The other, Nordstrum took care of with a blow to the body and a forearm to the side of his head.
Lund fell back against the gunwales, a crate toppling from the top deck and pinning him, likely snapping a leg, his gun slipping out of his hand.
Nordstrum took hold of Natalie, who yelled for her grandfather. The old man had fallen; he’d hit his head against the seats in front of him. He was dazed, but he seemed all right.
Pandemonium was everywhere. Alarms, horns, passengers screaming names. “Claus, where are you?” The ferry listed forward. “Inge, Inge, are you all right?” Several of the troops guarding the heavy water drums were either tossed into the freezing lake or crushed by the weight of the shifting rail cars.
“Wait over here.” Nordstrum took Natalie by the hand and helped her and her grandfather to the lifeboat station across the deck. He put their hands on the railing. “Hold on. I promise I’ll be back.”
Then with a grinding, metallic roar that sounded more like solid metal being sheared apart, the two open rail cars carrying the heavy water drums broke free from their hooks and chains and crashed through the loading door, teetering over the front of the ship. One by one, the drums marked POTASH LYE—but which contained the most valuable cargo of the German war machine—toppled into the lake, soldiers who were still on the platform trying futilely to save them. Screaming, many were dragged into the water with them. A moment later, with a loud groan, the pitch of the ship increased a bit more now that the now-empty rail cars were gone, dragging the soldiers who only a minute before had stood guard over them so ceremoniously into the water screaming for their lives or crushing them under their weight.
A surge of validation soared through Nordstrum.
It was done.
The cargo was destroyed.