Knight's Cross (The Shipwreck Adventures Book 3) Read online

  OTHER TITLES BY CHRISTINE KLING

  SHIPWRECK ADVENTURE SERIES

  Circle of Bones

  Dragon’s Triangle

  SEYCHELLE SULLIVAN SERIES

  Surface Tension

  Cross Current

  Bitter End

  Wreckers’ Key

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2015 Christine Kling

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503944633

  ISBN-10: 1503944638

  Cover design by Jason Blackburn

  To Wayne who showed me I don’t have to be alone to write

  CONTENTS

  MAP

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER EIGHTY

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

  EPILOGUE

  CHARACTERS

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  I enjoy using real historical ships as the basis for the Shipwreck Adventure series. For each book, I look for a ship that went missing but whose wreck has never been found. Since no one knows for certain what happened to the ship and her men, I get to let my imagination take over. In each case I try to show the utmost respect for the real men whose lives were lost when their ship went down.

  Just as in Circle of Bones I created an imagined ending for the real French submarine the Surcouf, and in Dragon’s Triangle I envisaged what might have happened to the American submarine the USS Bonefish, here in Knight’s Cross I’ve conceived a unique ending for the HMS Upholder.

  To this day, the HMS Upholder holds the record for the most tonnage sunk of any British submarine. I have attempted to tell her known story as close to true as possible. Lieutenant Commander David Wanklyn was the real skipper of the Upholder, and I have tried to portray him as accurately as possible. Captain Robert “Tug” Wilson was a British commando with the Special Boats Unit who did go on that final patrol aboard the Upholder. Tug was the last man to see the captain and crew of the Upholder before they disappeared. On April 11, 1942, Upholder followed orders to patrol east of Djerba Island. Orders were later sent for Upholder to form a patrol line with HMS Thrasher, but those orders were never acknowledged, and she was never heard from again.

  The story of the Siege of Malta in 1942 is an amazing tale of the courage and tenacity of the Maltese people and the sailors in the Royal Navy’s Tenth Submarine Flotilla, who together saved Malta from falling into the hands of their enemy. I encourage my readers to learn more about this incredible chapter of world history.

  —Christine Kling, June 2015

  Aboard the Ferryboat

  Approaching Rhodes Harbor

  April 9, 2014

  Riley leaned over the side of the boat, holding her diamond engagement ring at arm’s length, and imagined dropping it. The ring was just bits of metal and rock—if you took away all the sentiment. And sentiment seemed to have gone AWOL from her life lately.

  The cabin door creaked open behind her. When she turned to look, the wind blew her hair into her face, blinding her.

  “Riley?”

  His voice calling her name still fired up that warm tingle at the back of her neck. She pushed the strands of hair out of her eyes. Cole stood in the open doorway, holding his forearm in front of his face as a windbreak.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  The Mediterranean wind called the meltemi had started to fill in that morning just as the ferryboat pulled away from the dock. The weather had driven all the other tourists inside as soon as they’d cleared Marmaris Bay, but Riley loved the feel of the wind and spray on her cheeks.

  She slipped the ring into the pocket of her jeans. “It’s beautiful out here.” Reaching out, she took Cole’s hand and said, “Come with me.” The heavy door shut behind him. She grabbed the railing with one hand and pulled him against her back with the other, pressing the two of them forward into the wind.

  When she turned her head to look at him, she couldn’t help but laugh at his pout. “You won’t melt in a little spray.”

  He pulled his hand back. “Riley, cut it out.” He flattened himself against the side of the cabin, swiveling his head to look fore and aft.

  “Cole, it’s okay. We’ve got the deck all to ourselves.” She pressed her body up against his and slid her hand behind his neck. “I
miss being alone at sea with you.”

  “You don’t get it.” His eyes were focused on something over her shoulder. “I’m telling you, I’m not crazy. I know what I saw. The threat is real.”

  She ran her fingers over the stubble on his cheek. “Okay,” she said. “I want to believe it, but it’s not logical. They said he couldn’t possibly have survived. That was all a long time ago.”

  “I want you to believe me, not what the authorities said.”

  Riley struggled to find the right words. What he claimed to have seen was impossible. Her military training, her very nature, got in the way when it came to acting on faith.

  “It’s too open out here,” he said. “They might be watching.”

  They. “Cole—”

  “You stay out here. You’re probably safest if you keep well away from me.” He pushed her off him, and, with his head still swiveling to look up and down the deck, he headed for the door.

  He didn’t even look back before he went inside.

  Riley stood there, one hand holding her hair out of her face, and stared at the closed door. She couldn’t bear the thought of going back inside the cabin with all those chattering tourists. For some reason, Cole felt safer in a crowd. One more thing they didn’t agree on.

  Riley turned and walked forward, toward the open foredeck. When she reached the forward railing, she watched the crew working one deck beneath hers, readying the big dock lines. Already she could feel the wind easing. They’d entered the lee of the island. The ferry was a big catamaran, and, with her speed, they’d crossed from Marmaris to Rhodes in an hour.

  Her brother, Michael, would have been able to tell her in a second how fast the cat had been traveling. They’d learned to sail together as kids, at whatever foreign diplomatic post their father had been assigned to. Michael had been a whiz at navigation—a true math prodigy. And he’d always been able to explain things so that she could understand.

  Mikey, she thought, I wish you’d lived long enough to help me to figure out Cole. She closed her eyes and listened for her dead brother’s voice. All she heard was the dull roar of the boat’s engines.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw the port appear as the ferry rounded the point. After a month in Turkey, a person could get jaded about one more set of ruins, but the ancient walled city of Rhodes, with its medieval saw-toothed turrets and white-domed mosque and minaret, looked magical—like a place where King Arthur’s knights would lunch with Aladdin.

  The city held something even more potent than magic for Riley, though. She was meeting her best friend, Hazel, there—seeing her for the first time in more than a year.

  When the ferry entered the inner harbor, the captain made for an empty dock, where a small group of people clustered together along the seawall. It was easy to pick Hazel out of the crowd, since she was the only black-skinned person in the bunch. And, being Hazel, she was dressed in her best resort wear, which in this case amounted to high-heeled white sandals and a skintight tropical-print dress that revealed her generous cleavage and clung to her curves like it was glued to her skin. Few of the men in the crowd were watching the approaching ferry.

  Riley leaned over the rail and waved. Hazel jumped up and down and swung the straw hat off her head. Riley grinned and waved harder. Relief flowed down her arm, and she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.

  Hazel would know what to do. She always did.

  All week, Riley had been looking forward to this day trip to Rhodes. After the latest setback in the boatyard, she’d hoped this getaway would cheer Cole up. He was understandably frustrated. He’d ordered his dream boat to be built in Turkey over a year ago, while the two of them sailed her boat, Bonefish, from the Philippines to the Med. Things had been great while they were sailing together, but once they’d arrived in Turkey, the problems and boatyard delays had started. Cole had already sold his old boat, the Bonhomme Richard, in Manila, and most of his possessions were in a shipping container in the corner of the boatyard. The new eighty-three-foot exploration vessel, the EV Shadow Chaser II, was now more than six weeks past the contract delivery date, and the longer he was boatless, the more Cole seemed lost, adrift.

  But she knew it wasn’t only the problems with his dream boat.

  Cole Thatcher, the man she had, a mere six months ago, agreed to marry, now appeared to be losing his mind.

  Aboard the Ferryboat

  Approaching Rhodes Harbor

  April 9, 2014

  He crouched down behind one of the big canister life rafts on the top deck, but it did not provide much wind protection. He pushed up the collar of his black raincoat and held it closed at his throat. Icy tentacles of wind found their way up his sleeves, around his bare ankles. His tolerance for cold had diminished significantly after the accident. That was what he called it. The accident. Even though it was no accident at all.

  He’d heard her voice just a few minutes before, but since she stood on the deck directly under him, he couldn’t make out the words, nor could he see her. She was talking to a man. The tone of their voices sounded angry. That pleased him. Then the door had opened and closed beneath him.

  Should he risk leaning over the edge to see if she was still there? It would be very unlikely she would see him. Most people never look up. But then again, she wasn’t most people.

  He glanced ahead to check the distance to the island’s harbor, and he saw her on the foredeck, elbows leaning on the side railing, her face in profile, auburn hair whipping in all directions in the wind. She was wearing a red jacket that came only to her waist, and her tight blue jeans showed off the curve of her ass. The hair was longer, but other than that, the years had not left any marks on her. She still had that compact, athletic body, the smooth, suntanned skin, the aura of strength in one so small.

  She turned to look aft, and he saw her full face. He turned aside. Then he opened his right hand and slowly, one by one, closed the fingers and squeezed the hand into a fist.

  On the top deck, a gate blocked him from going any farther forward. He didn’t need to get any closer. Besides, that was where the navigation-bridge windows were, and he didn’t want to be seen watching her. No witnesses. He had spent too many years living in the shadows to risk that.

  He had changed so much since the last time he had spoken to her. A new name to go with his new appearance—and a new life. Not a better one, but a life. For a long while he hadn’t been sure he would ever have even that.

  Years gone, years lost. Her fault. Whatever happened, he was glad he had crawled out of that hole. Glad he had found her. Once again, he closed the fingers of his right hand into a fist, only this time he held his fist up to his eye. He looked through the hole it formed—like a rifle scope. Her head in the center of the circle. His other hand squeezed an imaginary trigger. He saw her head jerk, the puff of red spume, the body falling limp to the deck. A thousand times he had imagined it.

  No, that would be too quick. He wanted to take his time. He stretched out the fingers of both hands and then formed fists. His strength was returning.

  He stood straight and the wind caught his coat, making it flap loudly round his legs. She couldn’t hear it. She wouldn’t look back. She never looked back.

  Her mistake.

  The Ferryboat Dock

  Rhodes Harbor

  April 9, 2014

  “Congratulations!” Hazel lifted her off the ground in a big bear hug, then held Riley’s neck in the crook of one arm while she threw the other around Cole. “I can’t believe this guy actually put a ring on it. Let me see!”

  Riley was thankful she had wriggled the ring back onto her finger as she’d walked down the gangway.

  “I’m so happy for you,” Hazel said and squeezed them again.

  Riley grinned at her friend, but Cole didn’t say a word. “So tell us more about what you’re doing in Greece,” Riley said. “Is it work or pleasure?”

  “A little of both,” Hazel said. “I have the pleasure this spring of hangin
g out in the Med with rich folk, trying to convince them to donate to the Kittridge Foundation. Crete, Capri, Cannes—the usual.”

  “Very cool.”

  “Look, it’s a bit of a walk to the museum from here,” Hazel said, “but there are no cars allowed in the Old Town, and I told Dr. G. we would meet her at eleven. I don’t want to be late.” In a second, she had turned businesslike and hustled them off toward the center of the old city.

  “I really appreciate you setting this up,” Cole said.

  “When it comes to the Knights,” Hazel said, “Dr. Günay is a world-class authority.”

  “Don’t tell me you share Cole’s obsession,” Riley said.

  “No, I met her at a conference on educating girls a couple of years ago in Istanbul. I was there representing the Foundation, and she was a guest speaker. She’s fascinating. I had to meet her afterward. You’ll understand.” Hazel pointed to an arched doorway through a wall. “This way.”

  At the pace Hazel set, they soon arrived at the Palace of the Grand Master, on a back street in Rhodes’s Old Town.

  “It doesn’t look like much from the outside,” she said, “but when I was here yesterday, I was blown away by the museum inside.” She pointed at another arched stone doorway. “Through here.”

  She led them across a huge stone inner courtyard to an unmarked wood door. Hazel knocked, and a short, heavyset, matronly lady squealed with delight when she opened the door.

  Hazel laughed. “This is my friend, Dr. Najat Günay.”

  The woman’s glasses magnified her sparkling eyes. Her childlike joie de vivre was startling and unexpected, given her profession and staid appearance.

  “Najat works for Heritage Malta,” Hazel continued, “but she’s here in Rhodes doing research. Najat, this is my best friend, Maggie Riley, and her fiancé, Cole Thatcher.”

  The woman shook Cole’s hand first. When she turned to Riley, she said, “Hazel has told me so much about you. I can’t believe a little thing like you was once a US Marine.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Seven years.”

  “And now you’re engaged to this fellow! You’re the lucky girl. He’s hot!” And then the renowned historian giggled like a schoolgirl, with her hand in front of her mouth.

  Cole flushed, and Riley could not help but laugh with her. “I agree.”