Shadow Divers Shadow Divers by Robert Kurson

Author:Robert Kurson
Language: rus
Format: mobi
Tags: Non-Fiction, Adventure, Science
ISBN: 9781588362490
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2004-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

By Chatterton’s calculation, it should take no more than a week to receive the answer. For his part, Kohler continued to rampage through historical texts, learning the patrols of America-bound U-boats. In these pursuits—Chatterton with the knife, Kohler with the books—each was answering to more than a mystery. Each believed that once the U-boat was identified, he had a responsibility to the families of the fallen soldiers and to history to explain why the U-boat was in American waters, how it had slipped through history’s cracks, and how it had met its end. And if there was a Mrs. Horenburg, she deserved to know why her husband lay buried off the New Jersey coast and why no one in the world knew that he was there.

A week passed without reply. Then another week. Chatterton sat beside his phone willing it to ring. He checked between the pages of junk-mail flyers for the pale blue of an airmail envelope. A month passed without a reply. He wrote to his sources again. Each told him the same thing: There’s been some confusion—we’re still working on it. Just after Christmas, nearly two months after his initial inquiry, Chatterton’s phone rang. It was a U-boat enthusiast with whom Chatterton had recently become acquainted. The man had news.

“The knife is a dead end, Mr. Chatterton. You have to go back to the wreck.”

“What do you mean it’s a dead end?”

“There was only one man in the U-boat service named Horenburg. And he never served in the western Atlantic.”

“What U-boats did he serve on?”

“He doesn’t remember.”

For a moment Chatterton could not speak. Only the sound of telephone static convinced him that the man was still on the line. Finally, he choked out the question.

“Horenburg is alive?”

“He’s alive,” the man said.

“He survived the sinking?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What did Horenburg say?”

“He said it’s a dead end.”

“What’s a dead end?”

“The knife. He doesn’t remember the knife.”

“What else did he say?”

“Forget it, Mr. Chatterton. You should move on.”

“Wait a minute. I would like to talk to Horenburg—”

“That’s impossible. He talks to nobody.”

“Please. Tell him I’d like to speak to him. This is everything to me. If this is his knife I’d like to return it to him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk.”

“Can you at least tell me what U-boat he was on?”

“He doesn’t recall anything. You need to go on from here. I’m sorry I can’t help you further. I must go. Good-bye.”

Chatterton sat stunned, unable to hang up. Horenburg is alive? He doesn’t remember the knife? He talks to nobody? Chatterton held the phone to his ear, oblivious to the phone company’s recorded warnings while he processed the impossible: A knife with a crewman’s name—the best artifact I have ever found—and it’s a dead end?

For the next several days, Chatterton thought obsessively of Horenburg. The man had survived the war, lived into old age, and was in a position to announce the answer to the mystery. Yet he wouldn’t talk. Why not? What reason could he have for not at

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