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his faithful Alsatian.
     
    The guard at the top of the gangway had glanced at the tall man's document and handed it to an officer supervising the boarding of the wounded.
    The officer took his time reading the letter. Finally, he said, "Herr Koch thinks highly of you."
    Erich Koch was the murderous Gauleiter who had refused to evacuate East Prussia while preparing his own escape on a ship carrying looted treasure.
    "I like to think that I have earned his respect."
    The officer hailed a ship's steward and explained the situation. The steward shrugged and led the way along the crowded promenade deck, and then down three levels. He opened the door to a cabin that contained two bunks and a sink. The room was too small for the three of them to enter at the same time.
    "Not exactly the F ü hrer suite," the steward said. "But you're lucky to have it. The head is four doors down."
    The tall man glanced around the cabin. "This will do. Now, see if you can get us some food."
    A flush came to the steward's cheeks. He was tired of being ordered about by VIPs traveling in relative comfort while ordinary mortals had to suffer. But something in the tall man's cold blue eyes warned him not to argue. He returned within fifteen minutes with two bowls of hot vegetable soup and chunks of hard bread.
    The two men devoured their food in silence. The professor fin ished first and put his bowl aside. His eyes were glazed with exhaustion, but his mind was still alert.
    "What is this ship?" he said.
    The tall man scraped the bottom of his bowl with the last of his bread, then lit up a cigarette. "Welcome to the Wilhelm Gustloff, the pride of Germany's Strength Through Joy movement."
    The movement was an ongoing propaganda stunt to demonstrate the benefits of National Socialism to German workers. Kovacs glanced around at the spartan accommodations. "I don't see much strength or joy."
    "Nonetheless, the Gustloff will again one day transport happy German laborers and party faithful to sunny Italy."
    "I can hardly wait. You haven't told me where we're going."
    "Far beyond the reach of the Red Army. Your work is too important to fall into Russian hands. The Reich will take good care you.
    "It looks as if the Reich is having trouble taking care of its own people."
    "A temporary setback. Your welfare is my utmost priority."
    "I'm not concerned about my welfare." Kovacs hadn't seen his wife and young son for months. Only their infrequent letters had kept hope alive.
    "Your family?" The tall man regarded him with a steady gaze. "Have no worry. This will soon be over. I suggest you get some sleep. No, that's an order."
    He stretched out on the bunk, hands clasped behind his head, and shut his eyes. Kovacs was not deceived. His companion seldom slept and could snap fully awake at the slightest provocation.
    Kovacs examined the man's face. He could have been in his early twenties, although he looked older. He had the long head and craggy profile portrayed in propaganda posters as the Aryan ideal.
    Kovacs shuddered, remembering the cold-blooded way the Russian soldier had been dispatched. The past few days had been a blur. The tall man had arrived at the lab during a snowstorm and produced a document authorizing the release of Dr. Kovacs. He had introduced himself only as Karl, and told Kovacs to gather his belongings. Then came the madcap dash across the frozen countryside and the narrow escapes from Russian patrols. Now this miserable ship.
    The food had made Kovacs drowsy. His eyelids drooped, and he drifted off into a deep sleep.
     
     
    While the professor slept, a squad of military police swept the Gustloff insearch of deserters. The ship was cleared for departure, and a harbor pilot came aboard. At around one in the afternoon, the deckhands cast off the mooring lines. Four tugs came alongside and began to pull the ship away from the dock.
    A fleet of small boats, loaded mostly with women and children, blocked the way. The ship stopped and took the