"The fait accompli—the payoff," Pitt explained. "It seems that Admiral Heibert here was conspicuous by his absence at the Nuremberg War Trials. His name is right up there next to Martin Bormann on the wanted war criminals list. A real sweetheart this one. While Eichmann was burning the Jews, Heibert was emptying the POW camps by driving Allied prisoners into the holds of old merchant vessels and setting them adrift in the North Sea, trusting to British and American bombers to do the Nazis' own dirty work. In spite of the fact that he had disappeared at the end of the war, he knew what was in store if he stayed in Germany. He was convicted in absentia by the International Military Tribunal at Nuremberg and sentenced to death. It's a pity he wasn't hung before now, still it's better late than never."

Pitt had played his last card. There was nothing left for him but to hope, he could stall no more.

"Well there you have it. A few facts, a few educated guesses. The story's a bit sketchy I admit. The Germans could only radio a brief outline of the information they had in their files. The exact details may never become known. No matter, you're a dead man Heibert."

Von Till looked at Pitt in cold speculation. "Pay no attention to the major, Darius. His whole make-believe tale is nothing but the clever stall of a desperate man—"

Von Till paused, listening. At first the sound was faint—it seemed like an eerie thumping. Then Pitt recognized it as the heavy tread of hobnail boots moving closer along the wooden deck. The mist was back, and its moist atmosphere cloaked any shape or form, while at the same time it amplified the approaching footsteps into a kettledrum beat. It sounded as though the unseen noisemaker was lifting his feet and dropping them with much more force than necessary. Then a ghostly and faceless figure, dressed in the uniform of von Till's bodyguards, grew out of the mist. Barely discernible, the figure stopped several feet back and clicked his heels.

"The Queen Jocasta has dropped anchor, sir." The voice spoke in a low guttural tone.

"You idiot!" von Till snapped, angry at the interruption. "Return to your post."

"No more delays," Darius snarled. "Just one bullet in the major's groin so he can linger in agony." The Luger's muzzle fell to Pitt's lower torso.

"Whatever's fair," Pitt said quietly. He had a strange expressionless stare that was more disturbing to von Till than any show of fear ever could have been.