Schaeffer looked around for help. None of his crew spoke Spanish. The Argentinian didn’t speak a word of German. Eventually, they found a common tongue—French. The officer welcomed Schaeffer to Argentina and then delivered the bad news. They must disembark all passengers and cargo before daybreak. The crew and their gear could remain. But all civilians must leave immediately. Buses and delivery trucks were on standby to take them to their next destination.
Schaeffer didn’t question the officer about where they were being taken nor why the coming daylight was an issue. He simply gave orders to his crew, and the disembarkation began. He supervised every aspect of removing the passengers first and then the cargo.
His excitement began to build as he realized his fellow countrymen, as well as himself, had escaped the inevitable destruction of the Reich. Now each of them could forge a new path for their lives. One that enabled them to be the master of their own fate and free to pursue any dream they chose without being under the thumb of the Berlin politicians.
Once the boat was emptied, Schaeffer took a moment to address his crew. He was proud of the German sailors he’d worked with in the past. He considered them the most formidable group of warriors in the Reich’s armed forces. He continued to say goodbye to the bearded, weather-worn faces of the men he’d had the pleasure to command for two years.
A spontaneous demonstration arose from his crew. They cheered their commander as he began to board the cargo transportation flatboat to catch one of the buses.
“Halt!” a man’s voice screamed from an approaching boat. “Verlasse dein U-boot nicht!” Do not leave your U-boat.
Schaeffer stood with his hands at his sides, holding nothing more than a duffel containing a few personal belongings. The boat pulled alongside, and a man dressed in a dark suit approached the bow. As he drew closer, Schaeffer was able to see his face clearly. It was Franz Oberg, the second-in-command of the WVHA, the economic and administrative offices of the SS.
“Sieg heil, Obergruppenführer!”
“You have done well, Commander Schaeffer. However, there is still work to be done. You are to return with your crew to Hamburg to assist further with the war effort.”
“Sir, it was my understanding that—” When Oberg snapped at him, he knew he’d pushed his luck to the point of insolence.
Schaeffer pursed his lips and accepted his fate. As Oberg dressed him down for questioning his authority, Schaeffer’s eyes darted from Oberg to the woman who stood slightly behind him. She was young and attractive, but certainly wasn’t a Nazi party official or military officer. He furrowed his brow as he wondered why she’d accompanied the Obergruppenführer to greet U-977.
For an awkward moment, nobody spoke, as it was expected Schaeffer would return inside the submarine to prepare for the return journey. Then, unexpectedly, he was addressed by the woman standing behind Oberg.
“Commander, travel safe. Remember, we will rise from the ashes.”
Schaeffer would never know the mysterious woman who spoke to him was Brit Jorgensen, mistress of Himmler. She’d insisted upon coming to Mar del Plata to meet the submarine commander who was to return to Hamburg to retrieve the father of her children.
Chapter Forty-Seven
ASTARSA Shipyard
Mar del Plata
Buenos Aires Province
South Atlantic Coast of Argentina
Present Day, July
A century ago, the ASTARSA shipyard at Mar del Plata was a leader in naval and metallurgic workers. The first ship ever built in Argentina in excess of one thousand tons was built at ASTARSA. Soon, the company expanded to the construction of diesel and steam locomotives. Then the Great Depression in the United States brought the world economy to a severe slowdown, and ASTARSA was relegated to making repairs on the boats and locomotives it had built in years past.
That changed in 1946 when it was sold to an industrial machinery company funded by an Austrian conglomerate known as Knight Gruppe AG. With Juan Peron’s rise to power in late 1945, the economic conditions in Argentina started to improve. The government divested itself of the shipyard property and sold it to a wholly owned subsidiary of Knight Gruppe.
The turnaround was gradual at first, but as the decade of the seventies arrived, ASTARSA found itself gaining lucrative contracts with General Motors, Union Pacific, and Cabot Industries, a U.S.-based shipbuilder.
By the eighties, the increased activity of the Argentine merchant navy produced an opening for ASTARSA, which expanded its operations and soon became one of the largest employers in Mar del Plata. Large container vessels who brought goods and freight into Argentina frequently used ASTARSA to offload the containers before making their ships available for repairs. One of those ships, the Tigris, was scheduled to arrive that morning.
Ordinarily, the arrival of a container ship didn’t draw any attention from ASTARSA executives above the title of dock foreman. This day was different. The president of ASTARSA, wearing his customary khaki pants, white fur-lined parka, and L.L.Bean boots, strolled along the dock where the Tigris was tied off. He was escorted across the gangway onto the ship by two members of the ASTARSA management team together with his own private security detail.
Once on board, he instructed the ASTARSA executives to stay behind while he entered the cargo hold of the container ship. With the assistance of his security personnel’s flashlights, they located the container that matched the serial numbers and description he’d received by courier.
“Open it,” he instructed, handing over the keys to the heavy-duty padlocks that secured the doors. These had arrived via the same courier who delivered the container’s details. The lock was opened and the doors were pulled slightly ajar.
“Sir, would you
