Rotterdam,
March 28th, 1927
As Thomas de Vries wandered down to the docks, he could not help but remember the events from the past two weeks passed him by.
If only the fop had not ducked....if only. Following the King's message, the resistance had taken a major loss in prestige. Undecided moderates had mostly swung towards the side of the king, especially when he had announced a general amnesty and furthermore announced that there would be no extraordinary measures and no martial law.
Which in turn had led to one resistance cell in Eindhoven shooting up two cars of policemen, which had led to a further loss of public opinion when it became known the policemen were just headed for a trip to the countryside and not planning to arrest resistance members. An even greater hit in public opinion had happened when the churches of the Netherlands and of Belgiums, protestants and catholics alike, had spoken out against the resistance, preaching that murder was a sin and the killing of defenseless women and children (for apparently, the queen had been pregnant) was against God.
And when it became known that the King would keep his word with regards to an amnesty, most of the resistance cells had crumbled. Even his own resistance cell had taken a loss when one member announced that he had not "signed up for murder". Of course, said person was soon found drifting in the channel without a face and hands.
Still, the main problem of the resistance remained the same. There was just not enough popular support for an insurrection. Which left the resistance with a more precarious problem - either they would become even more radical, which would cost them public support - or they continued on and would eventually wither into nothingness. Still, Thomas had come up with one last plan - and his friend Marteen was currently busy with procuring the necessary ingredients.
He entered the harbour pub, the meeting place they had earlier agreed on. He was about to sit down on the corner table when he noticed two men in grey trenchcoats. Something about them made his hair rise. Trying not to attract any attention, he left the pub. As soon as he was out, he sprinted about 100 yards and then pressed himself against the corner of the next alley. Sure enough, two dark figures emerged from the pub. And a second later, the tell-tale whistle of a police officer could be heard. Answered immediately with the sound of galloping horses.
Thomas cursed. There was no real way out now - except one. Discarding his clothes, he took a deep breath and jumped into the water. The water was cold and dirty, but the former Dutch navy frogman had no trouble adjusting. Unlike the police, which had not prepared itself for this possibility and was still busy searching for him on land.
After a half-hour swim, he reached a motor boat moored near the pier and borded it. The lock on the cabin door was no obstacle for him. Finding some spare clothes left by the owner, he considered his options while drying himself and dressing. Somebody else must have talked - but not somebody from the inner circle. Otherwise there would have been more policemen already waiting for him.
He spent a few minutes guessing the identity of the snitch before coming back to his real problem - what was he to do? He could not go back, at least not immediately. Nor could he stay on board the boat, for sooner or later they would search it and of course the owner could come back anytime.
Which left only one way to go. After darkening the cabin, he cut loose the rope and under cover of darkness, allowed the launch to be carried outwards to sea by the drift.
A few hours later, dawn was breaking and Tomas was about to turn north, hoping to make landfall. Then he remembered that the German Marines were conducting fleet maneuvers up north of Rotterdam and that would not be an option. Nor would simply returning to any other port - for the German e-boat flotillas were conducting searches on any ship - and besides, he did not have the papers to satisfy the harbormaster.
Which left only one option. Starting the motor, he turned the ship towards Great Britain.
German Destroyer ZD-14 Borkum
It was a beatiful day, especially for newly promoted Kapitän zur See Karl Dönitz, as he led his four Destroyers on their usual patrol. The new ZD-class destroyers were a marvel in his eyes - well armed, capable of reaching speeds up to 38 knots and able to cruise for over 5000 nautical miles. Unlike many of his colleagues of the U-Bootwaffe, he had transferred to the Überwasserstreitkräfte, when it became clear that this would be the fastest way to make a career out of it. With the new U-boots being commissioned, he wondered if it had been the right move, but the years had been kind to him. He had made Korvettenkapitän commanding an old V-116 class destroyer, then becoming an instructor at the Torpedoschule in Flensburg, before being promoted to Fregattenkapitän and XO of a destroyer squadron. And when the new destroyers entered service, he had been on the list for commanding a full squadron, the colloquially-called Islands squadron, for each of the new ZD class destroyers in it was named after an Island.
He had drilled the men - many of them new recruits - hard and run his squadron as if they already were at war. War was inevitable in his opinion, if not against Britain, then against Poland or the Dominion. It was this mindset that made him both despise Sänger (for being a spineless pacifist) and like him, for he knew that the expansion of the Navy was primarily due to him. So there he was, making a high-speed run with four of his twelve destroyers (the other being maintained, refueled, restocked or just training elsewhere) and critically noting how the captains of the
Baltrum,
Norderney and
Sylt were keeping up.
Satisfied, he was about to give the order to slow to standard speed when he received word that a small boat had been sighted.
Strange, he thought. Usually small boats did not venture into the shipping lanes - and if they did, it was by mistake. "Signal to the other ships - well done and return to base. Slow to one-third speed, alter course....."
As the destroyer slowed down and easily matched the speed of the boat, he noticed through his binoculars that the skipper of the boat had donned a rain coat obscuring his face, although it was excellent weather. And what was even more alarming was that the boat - a dutch one, registered in Rotterdam - was heading for Britain.
"Keep a machine gun trained on him. 1WO, you speak dutch, don't you? Ask him where he is heading."
As the two ships came closer, the WO walked out of the bridge and exchanged words with the unknown skipper. After this was done, he came back in and reported that the boat was just of course. Dönitz frowned. "That doesn't make sense. None of that makes sense. Tell him we'll take him in tow." The WO nodded and ducked back out. Words were exchanged and then a gunshot rang out. Silence followed.
When Dönitz walked out to the Conning tower, he noticed that the WO was white as a sheet. "He's killed himself, Herr Kapitän." Dönitz nodded grimly. "Board the ship. Then report we have intercepted an agent headed for Britain."
Wilhelmshaven
April 3rd, 1927
Evening
As Reichskanzler Sänger watched the anker being hauled up, he was wondering about the last week. The recent revelation about the prime suspect in the shooting of the Queen being intercepted while trying to escape to Britain had been withheld and not become public knowledge yet. After all, Sänger already had his fair share of bad news regarding Britain to break to the public, but so far he had managed to withhold most of that from the public as well. The Kaiser had agreed to his plan and would keep quiet during the trip - and that was all Sänger could stop from keeping him from outright accusing the British from trying to murder his son.
The trip itself to Britain was rife with Symbolism as well. He traveled on the first battlecruiser the German Navy had, hoping it would signal to the British that the German Empire meant business. A newer ship had been turned down by him, fearing the British press would paint it as a sign of arrogance, by flaunting the larger German ships in service in the face of the British. After all, his briefcase contained many a troubling fact if he should choose to use it - but with the recent British attempts at diplomacy Sänger feared that it would rather be a question of "when" instead of "if". In many regards, this was a hail-mary pass and he deeply hoped the British would be willing to compromise. Otherwise.....
"Hey". He was stopped from his musing by the sound of Natasha's voice. "Hey." Taking her arm, he proceeded to make small talk until the sun set and they were asked to join the captain for dinner.
The trip would be a short one - the SMS
von der Tann would arrive in British waters soon.