Dogfight

by Craig Simpson

  ‘You do, do you?’

  ‘Uh-huh. And I think Father would have approved.’

  Mr Larson smiled. ‘Yes, Finn, I do believe he would have.’

  ‘So we’re in then, are we?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, all right. I think after tonight’s little adventure you’ve both proved yourselves.’

  ‘Let’s make a toast then,’ said Loki. He raised his glass. ‘Here’s to kicking Fritz’s arse. Skål!’

  ‘Skål!’ we all cried. We downed our drinks in one. It burned my tongue and I felt like the skin lining my throat was being stripped. I coughed and spluttered. But it made me feel warm inside too.

  ‘So what do you want us to do?’ I asked. I felt ten feet tall and invincible.

  ‘Not so fast. There’s no rush … And don’t look so disappointed, Finn. There’ll be time enough. Although—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well …’ He paused and scratched the bristles on his chin. ‘Well, there is one mission I’ve been struggling to solve. One particular special operation. It’s important too.’

  ‘What?’ Loki and I said in unison.

  ‘Well, you already know about Bald Eagle. His work will be done in a week or so and the RAF will be flying in to pick him up. It’s absolutely vital he makes it back to London without delay.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘The pick-up will be in the same valley as he parachuted into. Now the lake’s frozen, a Lysander or similar small aircraft can land there. It’s safer than trying to use a seaplane landing in the fjord. There are simply too many patrols.’

  ‘So how can we help?’ asked Loki.

  ‘The pilots often miss the landing zones, especially if the weather’s bad. Flares aren’t always enough. Of course, we could use our transmitters, but chances are the Germans would detect the signals. I’m getting hold of a solution to the problem, but it will have to be taken across the fjord to Heimar.’

  ‘What’s the solution?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s called the S-phone, Finn. It’s a special transceiver for talking at short range with the pilot, to help guide him in. Its signal is highly directional and therefore hard to detect. But it’s quite bulky and difficult to conceal. So at the first sight of a German E-boat while crossing the fjord, you’d have to throw it overboard. Get caught with it and you’d be facing a firing squad – and no hope of escape this time.’

  I glanced to Loki and saw from the look on his face that he too knew full well that this task was extremely important. But it wasn’t quite what I had in mind. I wanted to hit the Nazis hard, where it hurt, to make them regret ever setting foot in our country. I spoke my thoughts.

  ‘I understand,’ Mr Larson replied. ‘But be patient, Finn. And anyway, if Bald Eagle’s been successful, no doubt his return to London will lead to something happening. And if the British do launch a raid here, that would certainly be in our best interests, better in fact than us taking direct action.’

  ‘How’s that better?’ asked Loki.

  ‘Retribution against the local population is far less likely if foreign forces are deemed responsible for raids or acts of sabotage.’

  ‘Who else did you have in mind for delivering the S-phone?’ I asked.

  ‘I was intending to go myself – since any day now the new restrictions on the fjord are expected to come into force, no one’s been overly keen to volunteer. You do realize you’ll have to row across during darkness?’ He stopped and gave us a rather grim stare. ‘It won’t be easy.’

  ‘We’ll do it, Father,’ Loki declared enthusiastically and without hesitation. I saw a glint in my friend’s eyes. I knew why too. Just the possibility of seeing Freya was enough.

  We discussed the details. All being well, we’d row across the following Saturday morning, aiming to reach Heimar’s just before dawn. Mr Larson said he’d show us how the S-phone worked so we could brief Heimar. Puffing on his third cigarette, he added, ‘You’ll need some sort of cover story, especially if the restrictions on the fjord have been put in place. I know, we’ll say you’re delivering some urgent medicines to people on the other side. I’ll get Father Amundsen to obtain some forged permits and travel documents, and I’ll get hold of some bottles of pills.’

  As we talked well into the early hours, a question occurred to me. ‘What exactly has Jack been up to?’ I asked. ‘Earlier you said it might lead to a raid.’

  Mr Larson seized my shoulder. ‘Never, ever use his real name, Finn. Stick to his code name, Bald Eagle.’ He relaxed back into his chair. ‘As far as I know, Bald Eagle was sent here to do reconnaissance, to assess the best way for British commandos to carry out a raid on the Foettenfjord.’

  ‘Why there?’ I asked. The Foettenfjord was a stretch of water leading directly into the much larger Trondheimfjord. ‘What are the Nazis up to?’

  He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Never you mind. What I can say, though, is that Bald Eagle’s success is vital. We’re talking about thousands of innocent lives, here, Finn. Thousands!’

  ‘Really?’ The importance of our task became even clearer.

  ‘Yes. A lot of work has already been done. Many have already risked their lives to prepare the ground. Men like the Penguin and the Telescope. Without their help, we’d be nowhere.’

  I choked on my drink. ‘The Penguin and the Telescope!’ I spluttered. ‘Their names keep cropping up. Who are they?’

  Mr Larson shook his head. ‘Best you don’t know too much, Finn.’

  ‘I can tell you this,’ I added: ‘when the SS questioned me, they asked me if I knew anything about the Penguin.’

  The blood drained from Mr Larson’s face. ‘You didn’t tell me this before. What did you tell the SS?’

  ‘That I didn’t understand the question. Don’t worry, I didn’t give anything away. Not that I actually know much anyway. Just that Father Amundsen mentioned his name.’

  Mr Larson rose from his chair and paced the kitchen, rubbing and scratching the back of his neck fretfully. ‘This is bad news,’ he muttered. ‘Terrible news. If the SS know about the Penguin—’

  ‘I’m not sure he knew much,’ I interrupted. ‘I think he was just fishing. It was a parting question, that’s all. He didn’t dwell on it.’

  ‘I just hope you’re right, Finn. Or else we’re all in trouble.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Dead Men Float

  THE FOLLOWING WEEK true winter was brought to us on an unrelenting northerly wind. Heavy snow fell, hardened to ice, and then was covered by more snow. Roads became impassable and everyone took to their skis. The days were shortening, the sun barely bothering to creep above the horizon. You only ventured out when you had to, as the icy wind seemed intent on biting off your ears. It was far more effective than any curfew imposed by the Germans from time to time. Mr Larson informed us that there would be a delay of at least a week to our mission with the S-phone.

  On the Tuesday the restrictions to movements on the fjord were finally announced. Posters were pasted on every notice board and lamppost, and the news filled the front pages of all the newspapers. Anna had been right. Fishing in the fjord was prohibited. Most boats were banned, in fact, except those heading out to sea, and these required special permits and had to be escorted to and from port by the Kriegsmarine, the German navy. Sailings of all the passenger ferries were also temporarily halted. Any other boat venturing out required permits signed by Colonel Hauptmann himself. Several large naval supply vessels also arrived that day, anchoring in the fjord, the streets of town filling with sailors keen on getting drunk. More prisoners arrived too, and we’d often stand and watch them being marched to the station and an uncertain future. The Allies were clearly losing a lot of ships at sea. And the Germans left us in no doubt that the penalties for breaking the new rules would be swift and harsh. I think we all knew what that meant.

  By the end of the week more troops had arrived. They quickly headed off up the fjord by boat. And all of a sudden Anna saw far less of Dieter. He began fly
ing patrols round the clock, day and night. We were all convinced that events were building up towards something big.

  School that week proved a strange experience. For the first time in ages I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting trouble in the form of Ned Grimmo, only to find that Ned was keeping his distance. The atmosphere had changed between us, although I wasn’t entirely certain how. His mother had not been detained or charged after her arrest in town. I guess her status and influence came to her rescue – again. Although Ned avoided me, I occasionally caught sight of him staring at me from afar. His usual narrow-eyed, waspish look was replaced by a more thoughtful gaze. Did he now see us both as being on the same side? I was tempted to ask him, but decided it was best not to tempt fate. I was happy enough to have got him off my back at last.

  I borrowed an English dictionary from the school library, slipping it beneath my coat to hide it and conveniently forgetting to sign it out. I figured it might be hard to explain my need for it. At home, I set about establishing which words Oslo recognized, sneaking him upstairs to my room whenever possible. He struck me as exceptionally clever, his vocabulary extensive, although his attention span was limited. He seemed more interested in chewing stuff, especially my socks – irrespective of whether my feet were still in them. I taught him a few tricks, like chasing his tail in circles, rolling over onto his back on my command, and shaking hands – or paws in his case. Soon we were inseparable. Mother was slowly coming round to him too. Although she frequently cursed him, I did occasionally catch her talking to him in the kitchen as if he’d become one of the family. Oslo, for his part, made himself right at home.

  I also solved the thorny problem of feeding him by striking a deal with our local butcher, Mr Bernsen. In return for me doing some deliveries and chopping up various bits of animals with astonishingly sharp knives, I obtained a steady supply of bones and fatty scraps. His cold store always seemed remarkably well stocked considering the scarcity of food. And deliveries to his shop often took place at night, round the back, his business conducted in whispers. I didn’t ask questions.

  In the evenings Loki and I spent time planning our mission, playing card games, and sometimes huddled around Mr Larson’s wireless set. Radios were supposedly banned. Everyone was encouraged to hand them in. Get caught listening to Allied broadcasts and we’d be arrested and sent to the camps. It was weird to feel a sudden rush of excitement and the thrill of danger just for listening to a voice emanating from a small speaker. Mr Larson always insisted on sitting nearest to it, his left ear just inches from the grille. He was listening out for special announcements on the BBC’s Overseas Service. Coded messages, each repeated several times, were a key tool used by the Allied High Command to communicate with units of Resistance across occupied Europe. They always came at the end of the evening news, and most struck me as odd. Things like, ‘The plum pudding is burned’ or ‘The sly fox has outwitted the hounds’.

  Mother continued her work in the evenings at the Lofoten, often not getting home until late. After the raid on the old town it was thought best to move the printing of the newsletter elsewhere. Mother saw it as a minor defeat for us, but I was glad. I reckoned it was only a question of time before the presses were discovered by the Germans, and when this happened, I wanted her to be nowhere near them.

  Finally our wait was over. Mr Larson gave us the nod. Our mission was on. He’d taken delivery of the S-phone and had been informed that Bald Eagle had returned to Heimar’s. He’d also received the forged travel permit and got hold of a small bag containing bottles of pills, all different colours. So the following Saturday, in total darkness and with a gale howling up the fjord, Loki and I set off with trepidation. Battered by the dry, biting blast, Loki was convinced it was cold enough to freeze the snot dangling on the end of his nose.

  We’d prepared thoroughly for our trip. Mr Larson had shown us how to use the S-phone and had given us an oilskin to cover it in the boat and keep it dry. He’d also told us in no uncertain terms that should a German patrol approach us, we were to dispose of the device by throwing it overboard. It was vital that this sort of equipment didn’t fall into enemy hands. Also, it would be difficult to explain why two boys had it in their possession. Get caught, and we’d be heading for the Kristiansten Fortress, maybe never to be seen again. Yet we both knew that the S-phone was a vital piece of equipment and could make the difference between success and failure in Jack’s pick-up.

  Mother said nothing when I told her of our mission. I think she knew there was no stopping my involvement with the Resistance. She knew I was too much like Father – too headstrong and determined to be talked out of it. So instead, she just hugged me and wished me luck, her parting words simply that I should be careful. Oslo, tail wagging, was up for an adventure too, but recalling that Heimar’s dogs didn’t take kindly to others invading their territory, I reluctantly left him at home.

  I rowed in the darkness for the first hour. We didn’t talk much. Loki kept his eyes peeled and we both listened out, our ears straining for the first hint of trouble. Yes, we had a permit and a reason for being on the fjord, but if we were intercepted, would our cover be blown? The forged document looked brilliant, but anyone checking out our story would soon realize it was a pack of lies.

  Eventually we changed over. Our rowing boat bobbed wildly in the swell. Loki sat down, took up the oars and began heaving on them with all his might. I squinted into the black nothingness ahead. We had a long way to go. All of a sudden I had a sinking feeling inside. Our heroic mission felt like a particularly bad idea. The weather was against us. Maybe the odds were against us. I puffed out my cheeks, rubbed my aching arms and blew a huge sigh. Inside my gloves, my hands were frozen numb. I crawled to the stern of our boat to hide from frequent gusts that felt as sharp as daggers.

  Finally Loki broke the silence. ‘How long has your sister been going out with Dieter now?’ he asked.

  ‘Too long,’ I replied. ‘Why?’

  ‘Just wondered, that’s all.’

  We both knew the dangerous truth. Dieter was pursuing Anna in a way that made us all uncomfortable. Anna insisted she had him kept on a tight leash and was merely leading him on, encouraging him, hoping she’d be fed tasty titbits of information. ‘She says she has it all under control,’ I added.

  ‘And you believe her?’

  I shrugged. In truth, I was beginning to wonder. She seemed awfully close to him. Just the previous evening I’d glanced out of the window and spotted them in a tight embrace. They kept to the shadows. I thought that a brief encounter might be necessary for Anna to keep up the pretence, but they remained there for almost half an hour. She was playing with fire, and we all risked getting burned.

  I glanced at my watch. Though it was nearly nine o’clock in the morning, it remained dark. Being November and so far north, daylight lasted just a few precious hours. I reckoned we were about halfway across the fjord. We’d not seen any sign of trouble but I knew the patrol boats were out there somewhere. My nerves were jangling.

  Pulling the fur-lined hood of my anorak tightly across my cheeks, I slid beneath some reindeer skins to keep warm.

  ‘Do you know what you’re getting for your birthday?’ asked Loki, pausing to adjust his grip on the oars.

  I shrugged. ‘Mother’s not said. I asked for some new skis but they’re expensive and hard to get hold of. Still, getting my flying jacket back was enough. Anna will probably give me a sweater or some new socks. In fact, socks would be useful. Oslo’s chewed up most of my old ones.’

  Loki sniggered. ‘That dog’s barmy. You two are a right pair.’

  Amid the whistling blow, Loki heaved rhythmically on the oars, letting out stifled grunts with each effort-filled stroke. The tide was on the turn. Our boat rose and fell with the swell. It felt like the tide was just playing with us, as if amusing itself with a tiny wooden toy. Waves slapped and slopped against the hull, dousing us with salty spray.

  Suddenly I felt our boat lurch and head i
n a different direction. I pulled back the reindeer skins and sat up. ‘You OK, Loki?’

  He shouted something to me but it came across all muffled. Then he stopped rowing and sat perfectly still.

  ‘What is it?’

  He lifted a glove to his lips and then pointed to the west. Then I heard the sound too, the low-pitched, burbling drone of a diesel engine. We gazed into the darkness. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Be quiet, Finn,’ he whispered.

  The engine noise grew louder. It was heading our way. ‘Christ, Finn, what now? Do we throw the S-phone overboard?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I replied, having thought about it for a second. Half of me wanted to scramble into the bow of the boat, seize the device and fling it out as far as I could. But that would mean we’d failed in our mission. And I did not want to fail. ‘Let’s not be hasty,’ I added.

  Out of the darkness loomed the large grey hull of the patrol boat. She cut through the water at speed, doing at least twenty knots by my reckoning. She sped past us, barely more than thirty feet from our bow. Looking up, I spotted lights on deck and heard German voices. Our hearts in our mouths, we watched her slip past and head eastwards. She cut quite a wake, her propellers churning the water into foam. The turbulent swell lifted us and tossed us about. Loki seized the oars and hung onto them for dear life. In seconds the patrol boat had gone.

  ‘Phew, that was too close for comfort,’ said Loki. He tore back his anorak hood and grinned at me. ‘Exciting, isn’t it?’

  ‘You’re crazy,’ I snapped angrily.

  Loki began rowing again. ‘You just relax and make yourself all nice and cosy,’ he said. ‘Lady Luck’s on our side, Finn. We’re invincible. Next stop Heimar’s.’

  ‘Just keep heading north-northeast.’

  ‘Aye, aye, Captain.’

  ‘And keep your eyes peeled,’ I added sharply. I slipped back under the skins.