Crush Depth

“Ilse, I think you better come to my stateroom.”

They walked down the passage together, leaving Montgomery to supervise unloading the cargo from the minisub. It seems he decided to leave it to me to tell Ilse she was “dead.” Montgomery’s warped sense of humor hasn’t mellowed any.

They came to Jeffrey’s cabin and went inside. Jeffrey was slightly embarrassed that he hadn’t made the bed.

“Why are you in the captain’s stateroom?”

Everything began to sink in. Jeffrey felt delight and affection and other emotions he couldn’t name. He also felt anger — no, rage, real rage that he’d been lied to by Wilson.

“I’m captain of Challenger now.”

“That’s wonderful!” Ilse gave Jeffrey a hug, a friendly hug of congratulations. Jeffrey pressed Ilse close and soaked in her body heat and felt her softness and smelled her hair — he also noticed the unmistakable reek of diesel, lingering on her from being in the Foxtrot. Ilse broke away.

“Why would they say I was dead? Oh… I think I know why. Jeffrey, after you and I were split up at the Pentagon, someone from Naval Intelligence told me the Axis is after me.”

“And your death was staged,” Jeffrey stated, explaining it to himself out loud. “It was all an act, to get the enemy off your tail.”

“Nobody told me a thing about it,” Ilse said. “I sure hope it works.”

“Lord, it’s good to see you again.”

Ilse gave Jeffrey a light kiss on the lips, but there was something too sisterly about it. There was nothing erotic, no inviting passion.

“How do you like my uniform?” she said.

“You’re passing as a lieutenant?”

Ilse looked insulted. “I am a lieutenant. I have a commission in the Free South African Navy.”

Jeffrey hesitated, pleased and happy for her, but also disturbed by her distance. “You always wanted something like this, didn’t you, Ilse? Official recognition, being a genuine part of things in other people’s eyes?”

“Obviously the admirals had a bunch of stuff in motion that they didn’t tell us about.”

“That puts it mildly.”

“I’m sorry I was cross with you at the Pentagon. I had time to think things over while I was training in the Aleutians.”

The Aleutians? Jeffrey didn’t like Ilse’s tone and the look on her face. His heart began to pound and he felt crestfallen.

“Jeffrey, I decided things between us weren’t working.”

“But—”

“No. Let me speak. I can’t get serious with someone unless I think that I could love them permanently. Not now, not anymore, not with this war. I’ve had too much hurt already, and my own feelings need to come first.”

“But I thought—”

“No. Just listen. You and I are from completely different worlds, on different continents. If we ever do win this war, I’ll go home to South Africa, to help rebuild. You’re a U.S. naval officer first and foremost. You’ll want to continue your career, as an American.… You’re good at what you do, Jeffrey. I’ve seen the way you come alive under fire, how there’s a drive and purpose in you when the bullets and torpedoes fly, and it keeps you from inner peace in quieter times…. I want to have children someday. I want, I need, the father of my children to be someone stable and sensible, not a man who loves the smell of gunsmoke and has something close to a death wish in him in battle.”

Jeffrey stood there, living a different sort of waking nightmare. Ilse had come back, only to reject him. The worst of it was, everything she said made sense.

“Now I need to go. I need to hit the head and freshen up. We shouldn’t even be in here alone together like this. People could talk. I’m a naval officer too now, for the duration of the war, and I’m a member of this crew, and you’re my captain…. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

TWENTY-THREE

Wilson glared at Jeffrey. “How dare you come in here and speak to me like this?”

“Sir, you lied to me. You told me someone whom you knew I cared about was dead. You let me suffer for days, and you knew all along that Ilse Reebeck was alive.”

“Yes, I knew. And no, I didn’t tell you. Your behavior right now is perfect proof of why.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“See that dressing mirror? Look at yourself.”

Jeffrey’s face was red and his fists were balled and his posture was antagonistic.

“What do you see?”

“I’m angry. I have every right to be. You violated the code of honor between naval officers, sir. You lied to me.”

Wilson took off his reading glasses. “Do you want to know what I see when I look at you right now, Captain Fuller? I see someone who can’t control his emotions when he needs to. I see someone who cannot grasp the larger picture. I see a commander who if he keeps this up is going to stay in that rank for however much longer he survives.”

Jeffrey balled his fists tighter, and dug in his feet. Anger helped — it filled the hollow aching in his heart. He knew it wasn’t smart, showing such anger to Commodore Wilson, and Jeffrey fought to calm down. He saw it was too late — he’d really set off Wilson this time.

Wilson lectured him sternly. “For once, will you please look at things from the whole navy’s point of view? Do you think I’m some kind of sadist? Do you think I kept the truth from you for the fun of it? And goddamn it to hell, do you think it was easy for me to see your grief and have to keep quiet?”

“No, Commodore, I’m sorry. I just don’t get it.”

“Captain, Captain, Captain. The Axis had to believe that Ilse Reebeck was dead. We owe that much to her for what she’s done for us already. We owe it to ourselves because her skills have become irreplaceable to this vessel, including her intimate knowledge of Jan ter Horst’s mind.”

This hurt Jeffrey a lot, hearing ter Horst’s name, Ilse Reebeck’s lover for two years. Jeffrey remembered that that love affair had ended only because of the war, when ter Horst betrayed Ilse’s family. The same Ilse dumped Jeffrey, after barely two months, of her own accord. The worst of it was, Wilson had no idea what Ilse had just said to Jeffrey. “So you set me up.”

“Yes, if you want to be that crude about it, I did. Commander Fuller, you have the world’s worst poker face and you’re an absolutely terrible liar. These traits make you an ideal leader in undersea combat, because the crew respects and trusts you implicitly, and inside our own hull the enemy cannot read your face. But if you had known while we were still in New London that Miss Reebeck was really alive, there is no way you could have behaved convincingly as if she were dead.”

“But—”

“Be quiet. We have no idea how badly New London is penetrated by spies.”

“Okay. Okay… Then why didn’t you tell me after we’d sailed?”

“Christ, do I have to spell it out for you at every step? I already told you there was the constant danger we might suffer a mechanical casualty, or be damaged in combat, and need to do an emergency blow and abandon ship and be picked up by God knows what neutral ship or Russian spy trawler.”

“I—”

“Miss Reebeck would still have been safe, and she could’ve done for another American submarine what she