Cryptonomicon

"That you saw down in the batteries of U-553," Bischoff says. "You see, my friend, anyone else would say that you are simply a crazy jughead."

"The correct term is Jarhead."

"They would say, first of all, that U-553 sank many months before you claim to have seen it. Secondly, they would say that such a boat could not have been loaded with gold. But I believe that you saw it."

"So?"

Bischoff glances at the letter from Dönitz looking mildly seasick. "I must tell you something about the Wehrmacht of which I am ashamed, first."

"What? That they invaded Poland and France?"

"No.

"That they invaded Russia and Norway?"

"No, not that."

"That they bombed England and . . . "

"No, no, no," Bischoff says, the very model of forbearance. "Something you did not know about."

"What?"

"It seems that, while I have been sneaking around the Atlantic, doing my duty--the Führer has come up with a little incentive program."

"What do you mean?"

"It seems that duty and loyalty are not enough for certain high-ranking officers. That they will not carry out their orders to the fullest unless they receive . . . special awards."

"You mean, like medals?"

Bischoff is smiling nervously. "Some generals on the Eastern Front have been given estates in Russia. Very, very large estates."

"Oh."

"But not everyone can be bribed with land. Some people require a more liquid form of compensation."

"Booze?"

"No, I mean liquid in the financial sense. Something you can carry with you, and that is accepted in any whorehouse on the planet."

"Gold," says Shaftoe, quietly.

"Gold would suffice," Bischoff says. It has been a long time since he looked Shaftoe in the eye. He's staring out the window instead. His green eyes might be a little moist. He takes a deep breath, blinks, and gets the bitter irony under control before continuing: "Since Stalingrad, it has not gone well on the Eastern Front. Let us say that Ukrainian real estate is no longer worth what it used to be, if the deed to the land happens to be written in German and issued in Berlin."

"It's getting harder to bribe a general by promising him a chunk of Russian land," Shaftoe translates. "So Hitler needs lots of gold."

"Yes. Now, the Japanese have lots of gold--consider that they sacked China. As well as many other places. But they are lacking in certain things. They need wolframite. Mercury. Uranium."

"What's uranium?"

"Who the hell knows? The Japanese want it, we provide it. We provide them technology too--blueprints for new turbines. Enigma machines." At this point Bischoff breaks off and laughs, painfully and darkly, for a long time. When he gets it under control, he continues: "So we have been shipping them these things, in U-boats."

"And the Nips pay you in gold."

"Yes. It is a dark economy, hidden beneath the ocean, trading small but valuable items over vast distances. You got a glimpse of it."

"You knew this was going on but you didn't know about U-553," Shaftoe points out.

"Ah, Bobby, there are many, many things going on in the Third Reich that a mere U-boat captain does not know about. You are a soldier, you know this is true."

"Yes," Shaftoe says, recalling the peculiarities of Detachment 2702. He looks down at the letter. "Why is Dönitz telling you all of this now?"

"He is not telling me anything," Bischoff says reprovingly. "I have figured this out myself" He gnaws on a lip for a while. "Dönitz is making me a proposition."

"I thought you'd retired."

Bischoff considers it. "I have retired from killing people. But the other day I sailed a little sloop around the inlet."

"So?"

"So it seems that I have not retired from going down to the sea in ships." Bischoff heaves a sigh. "Unfortunately, all of the really interesting ships are owned by major governments."

Bischoff is getting a little spooky, so Shaftoe opts for a little change in the subject. "Hey, speaking of really interesting things..." and he tells the story of the Heavenly Apparition that he saw while he was walking down here.

Bischoff is delighted by the story, which revives the hunger for excitement that he has kept pickled in salt and alcohol ever since reaching Norrsbruck. "You are sure it was manmade?" he asks.

"It whined. Chunks of shit were falling out of it. But I've never seen a meteor so I don't know."

"How far away?"

"It crashed seven kilometers from where I was standing. So, ten clicks from here."

"But ten kilometers is nothing for an Eagle Scout and a Hitler Youth!"

"You weren't a Hitler Youth."

Bischoff broods over this for a moment. "Hitler--so embarrassing. I hoped that if I ignored him he would go away. Perhaps if I had joined the Hitler Youth, they would have given me a surface ship."

"Then you'd be dead."

"Right!" Bischoff's mood brightens considerably. "Ten kilometers is still nothing. Let's go!"

"It's already dark."

"We will follow the flames."

"They will have gone out."

"We will follow the trail of debris, like Hansel and Gretel."

"It didn't work for Hansel and Gretel. Didn't you even read the fucking story?"