I found the fuel tap and twisted it to make sure it was fully open. Loki repeatedly pressed the starter button and, repeatedly, she failed to wake. ‘Come on!’ he shouted. ‘Start, you temperamental heap of rotting pine!’
I looked out of the window and a horrible tingle flashed through me. I saw figures approaching. ‘Oh no, they’re here, Loki. We’re done for.’
‘Don’t say that. Here, you come and try. I’ve still got plenty of bullets left.’
We changed places and, as I tried coaxing the old girl into life, Loki grabbed his rifle, punched a hole in the window with its butt, took aim and fired. ‘That’ll teach you!’ he yelled. Then he ducked as a hail of bullets rained down on us, pinging against the hull and cabin. I dropped to the floor but kept my hand on the starter. Just as I was despairing, she coughed into life, a clattering, wheezing, rhythmic tonk … tonk … tonk-tonk-tonk.
‘Hallelujah!’ I shouted. I yanked down the throttle and she roared. I felt her lurch forward as her propellers spun. I climbed up, ignoring the incoming fire, and turned her helm to take us clear of the rocks. Excitement surged inside me like a tidal wave. It felt strong enough to lift me off my feet. Loki peered out cautiously and then waved goodbye to the enemy with two fingers. ‘Hah, we did it, Finn. We bloody well did it!’
‘We’re not home and dry yet,’ I said.
‘As good as,’ he replied. ‘I’m going to have a poke around below and see if I can find something to treat that wound of yours. After all, I don’t want you suddenly dying on me.’
‘Don’t be long,’ I said. ‘I could do with a hand sailing her.’
‘You’ll be fine. You know the way as well as I do.’ He grabbed the handrails and slid down below.
I maintained full throttle for the first few minutes. The coast quickly faded into the distance. The Gjall was swift for her age and cut easily through the swell. But my euphoria at our escape soon turned to angst. Surely, I thought, the German patrol would radio headquarters and alert them. At any moment they’d send out spotter planes and signal every patrol boat. I had just decided it was simply a question of time before we got intercepted when Loki reappeared, clutching a small bottle, a rag and a rather grotty-looking bandage. I throttled back and tied off the wheel to keep us on a straight heading.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘Get that jacket off. Soon patch you up, Finn.’
I eased my anorak off. Strangely, my shoulder didn’t hurt much but the joint had stiffened up. Loki helped yank my sweater over my head, and when I unbuttoned my shirt enough to expose the wound, he pulled an anguished face. ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’ I said with trepidation.
‘Here, hold still.’ He unscrewed the lid of the bottle and tipped a little of its contents onto the rag.
‘What is that stuff?’
‘Whisky.’
‘What?’
‘Hold still, Finn. This is going to hurt.’
I’d never felt pain like it. It took my breath away. I yanked my shoulder free of Loki’s grasp. ‘Ow!’ I cried. Tears filled my eyes.
‘It’s the alcohol, Finn. Good antiseptic. It’ll help prevent infection. Stop you from rotting away.’
‘I think I’d prefer to rot!’
He laughed. ‘Luck was on your side. The bullet just grazed you like I said.’ He set about winding the bandage around the top of my arm.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘You kept me going back there. You probably saved my life.’
‘No charge!’ He grinned. ‘Anyway, you’d do the same for me.’
Having finished, Loki took a swig from the bottle and handed it to me. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Best anaesthetic in the world.’
I shook my head. ‘No thanks. I want to keep a clear head.’
‘I guess you’re right. You sit down and rest up. I’ll steer the Gjall home.’
I eased myself onto a bench behind the chart table. My nerves felt ragged. The evening’s events swirled around in my head. Jack was dead! Freya was on her way to England. And the briefcase, the one thing that just had to make it back to London, was still here. Our special operation was a total disaster. I leaned my head back against the bulkhead and pressed my eyes shut. ‘I wonder what we’ll find when we get home,’ I said. ‘Do you think our families are safe? I mean, I reckon the Germans knew about the pick-up. And if they knew about Jack, what else do they know?’
‘I dread to think,’ Loki replied. ‘And Freya’s gone, Finn. Gone!’ He gripped the helm tightly. ‘Still, at least she hasn’t got her Jack to keep her company. Mister secret agent, mister all-round-great-guy, Jack the bloody marvellous. Can’t say I’m sorry.’
‘That’s not nice,’ I said. ‘He was on our side, you know.’
‘Yeah, suppose you’re right, Finn. Just didn’t like the way he and Freya were getting along. Truth is, Finn, she doesn’t really like me that much, does she? I could tell even when we went to the cinema. I was all for sitting in the back row. But she insisted on sitting at the front. Every time I tried to put my arm round her, she wriggled and told me to stop. I couldn’t make her out, Finn. Until now, that is. I guess she’s fallen for Jack.’
I explained what Jack had told me, including the bit about how she was always talking about Loki. The transformation in him was instantaneous, like flicking a light switch. ‘Bloody hell! Good old Freya!’ he yelled, as if he wanted her to hear a hundred miles away.
I laughed.
For half an hour we held a steady course in the general direction of Trondheim. With the rhythmic clatter of the engine and the continuous rocking of the boat, I struggled to stay awake. I could have done with a couple of matchsticks to hang my eyelids on, they weighed that heavy. It felt like it had been the longest day of my life. To keep myself occupied, I lit a paraffin lamp and grabbed Jack’s briefcase. I rifled through the bag’s contents. There were about half a dozen hand-drawn maps, each with a different scale and detail. It took a while for me to realize they all related to areas around the Åsenfjord and Foettenfjord, two fingers of water branching off from the main, much larger Trondheimfjord. I recalled Mr Larson had spoken of the location. Jack, I decided, was a fantastic mapmaker. The detail was astonishing, better that any of the hiking maps or nautical charts I’d ever laid my eyes on. What interested me most, though, was a circle marked in pencil a few yards offshore in the Foettenfjord. He’d placed a big question mark beside it. Nearby, on the shore, various small buildings were marked. This puzzled me too. I’d sailed and hiked there in the past, and there weren’t any buildings I could remember.
The briefcase also contained three aerial photographs of the same region. In truth, at first glance they added little to Jack’s maps. I held one up to the lamp. Looking closely, I spotted something unusual in the water. Rather, there were lots of things in the water – tiny pale blobs forming a ring. Buoys possibly? No, a boom, I decided. I knew the Germans used them to create protective underwater curtains, often against submarines. Protecting what, though? I couldn’t see any sign of a battleship. What the hell did it all mean? Exasperated, I turned my attention back to the maps. My focus renewed, I scanned the surrounding mountainsides. Jack had marked various points, mostly on high outcrops of rock. I pointed them out to Loki. ‘Any ideas?’
‘Pillboxes!’ he declared, having squinted at them for a moment. ‘Look at the way they’re positioned. Together they cover every approach, whether over land or by sea.’
I took the map back and scrutinized it again. There were other markings. Something clicked. Anti-aircraft batteries! Searchlights! Wow, the area looked so heavily fortified I doubted anyone could get near it. Unless they knew where the defensive positions were, and could take them out. Now I understood the importance of Jack’s work, and why the British were so desperate for the intelligence. I just hoped Jack and Idur hadn’t died in vain. I thought of Heimar, the Kristiansten Fortress, and the horrors of what went on inside. I said a prayer for him. I stuffed the maps and photographs back into the briefcase and fastened it up. I couldn’t believe it wasn’t safely
on its way to London.
Gazing out through the cabin window, I looked for the silhouettes of buildings lining the shores of Trondheim. Loki took a deep breath. ‘The trickiest part of our journey is right ahead,’ he announced. He pointed out of the window. ‘There aren’t any navigation lights to guide us in, Finn.’
My shoulder had begun to throb again. I got up rather gingerly and edged my way towards the helm. ‘Where shall we tie her up? We can’t very well sail right into town without attracting attention. And I don’t want to anchor close to our village because when the patrols find the boat, they’ll put two and two together, and figure the culprits live there.’
‘Good point. Any ideas?’
‘Let me think a minute. Where exactly are we?’ I asked.
‘About two nautical miles from town. I’ve eased right back on the throttle, although I expect the entire world can hear this damn engine.’
I hummed and hawed, pressing a finger thoughtfully to my lips. ‘You know, Loki, I think it’s about time we sent Fritz a message.’
He turned to look at me and I saw a devilish glint in his eye. ‘What have you got in mind?’
I pointed out of the window towards a grey blob some distance away. ‘Unless I’m mistaken, that’s a German patrol boat moored close to the shore over there. We’ve got some oil drums on deck. We can put them to good use.’
‘How? I don’t understand.’
‘Here’s what we’ll do. Set a collision course. Then tie off the wheel. That way we can abandon ship and let her steam right on in. I’ll tip up the drums and spill the contents over the deck. When we’re ready, I’ll set fire to her. We’ll give Fritz a mighty warm welcome. We’ll finish what Mr Naerog set out to do.’
‘Sounds mad to me.’
‘Best plans usually are,’ I replied. ‘But think about it. This boat’s a liability. Fritz knows it belongs to Heimar. Best to get rid of her. And they’ll be so damn busy clearing up the mess we’ll be able to row ashore in safety.’
So our crazy plan was set. I sorted out the oil drums, rolling them into the bow of the ship and tipping them over. The deck became so slippery I had trouble staying on my feet.
I spotted Loki scratching his head. ‘Is this really going to work?’ he shouted.
I shrugged. ‘Who knows? Anyway, got any better ideas?’
Abandoning the wheel, Loki ran to the stern and grabbed hold of the rope connecting our rowing boat to the Gjall. He hauled it in until our rowing boat thumped and crashed against the stern. I seized Jack’s briefcase and the paraffin lamp and was about to smash it onto the deck when Loki stopped me. ‘I’ll do that, Finn. You get into the rowing boat.’
With Loki clutching the lamp in one hand and the rope to our escape vessel in his other, I clambered down. Once I’d settled into the boat, he flung the lamp. I heard it smash against the wheelhouse. For a moment nothing happened. I called up to him. ‘Has it taken? Is she burning?’
He didn’t reply at first. Then he let go of the rope and disappeared. Next thing I saw was a flickering orange glow and clouds of acrid smoke rising up. Loki’s grinning face reappeared. ‘Glad I didn’t drink the rest of that whisky, Finn. I put it to good use.’ He lifted a leg over and straddled the rail. About to clamber down, he stopped and braced himself. With the Gjall making several knots headway, no way could he both untie the rowing boat and climb down into it as well. He panicked.
‘What are you waiting for?’ I yelled. Huge flames rose up behind him, creeping up on his back. ‘Get a move on!’
‘If I untie her, you’ll slip away,’ he replied fearfully. ‘How can I get down?’
‘You’ll have to jump. Keep hold of the rope and jump. Do it, Loki. Now!’
He untied the rowing boat and wrapped the rope about his wrist. Leaning out precariously, he held his breath and jumped.
Plunging into the icy waters, he disappeared beneath the waves. I grabbed the rope and pulled with all my might. I just hoped the other end was still wrapped about his wrist. His head broke the surface and he gasped for air. Coughing and spluttering, he flailed about. I grabbed hold of him and tried to haul him into the rowing boat but he was too heavy. My shoulder complained bitterly. He disappeared under again, re-emerging spewing water from his mouth. I reached out and grabbed him. I gritted my teeth, dragged him against the hull and bellowed at him to seize one of the rowlocks. A flailing hand finally managed to grasp it. I summoned every ounce of energy and, somehow, dragged him aboard. He was all shivers and chattering teeth.
‘Cold stole my breath,’ he gasped.
I wrapped him in the reindeer skins, and then for good measure added the oilskins we’d used to cover the S-phone. ‘Jesus, Loki, you look like death.’
‘Thanks,’ he grumbled. ‘You just saved my life.’
‘No charge,’ I said. ‘Guess we’re even for the day.’
We laughed, then turned and watched the blazing Gjall motor towards the shore and the German E-boat.
‘This one’s dedicated to Mr Naerog, and the other two men I saw executed, Loki,’ I said.
‘Yeah, for Heimar and in memory of Idur Svalbad too,’ he added. ‘And I hope the message gets through to Fritz. If they harm Heimar, we’ll sink every flipping German ship that dares venture into Norwegian waters.’
On our knees, we saluted the Gjall’s final moments.
‘A song would be fitting,’ said Loki. ‘First verse of our national anthem, I suggest. Yes, we love this country is the perfect accompaniment. Not too loud though, in case our voices carry. OK. On the count of three. One, two, three!’
‘Ja, vi elsker dette landet …’
I glanced at my watch. It was three o’clock in the morning. I figured there’d be few sentries on duty along the shore, and even they would probably be catching a crafty forty winks. They were in for a rude awakening.
Having regained his strength, Loki slid the oars into their rowlocks and began to row. ‘You just sit back and watch the show, Finn,’ he said. ‘Rest that shoulder of yours. Leave the hard work to me. Next stop home. Wow, what a night!’
‘Yes, but I have the feeling it’s just the beginning.’
‘Beginning of what?’
I tapped the briefcase. ‘This. I guess it’s up to us now to find some way of getting it to England.’
By the time the Gjall crashed into the patrol boat, she was burning as brightly as the bonfires we always lit on Jonsok, midsummer’s night. I was a little disappointed when at first the collision didn’t make much noise. But when the patrol boat subsequently exploded, its fuel and munitions creating the most spectacular firework display I’d ever seen, we both cheered and sang our national song one more time.
Chapter Seventeen
A Present for Oslo
ARRIVING HOME, WE were relieved to find our families and houses were safe. But it was clear to everyone that things were changing fast. Fearing a visit from the Gestapo or SS at any moment, we all remained on tenterhooks. It proved exhausting. To make matters worse, as the days passed, there was no news about Heimar. Mr Larson tried to make discreet enquiries but had to be extremely careful. To show too much interest would raise suspicion. We were all in danger. We all knew that if Heimar talked, we were doomed. And our successful attack on the German patrol boat did not make Loki and me the heroes we thought we were. Our efforts resulted in reprisals, with suspects being rounded up for questioning. Mr Larson was furious with us.
Mother and Mr Larson spoke together at length about our crisis. Finally they decided it best to get us all to the border, and across into neutral Sweden. Mr Larson said he’d make the arrangements through Father Amundsen. But it would take a few weeks to organize transport and to forge our travel papers. I hated the idea. I didn’t want to go but I was told I had no choice. When I showed Mr Larson Jack’s maps and photographs, his reaction was unexpected. I’d imagined he’d be delighted they’d not fallen into enemy hands. Instead, his face darkened and he paced the room, cursing. ‘It’s all been for not
hing,’ he declared despairingly.
‘There must be another way of getting them to London,’ I said to him, but he just shook his head.
‘What about the Shetland Bus?’ I added, thinking that surely the maps could be carried on the next trip.
‘Yes, Finn, they could. But there isn’t another sailing for at least another month. And that would be too late.’
Most surprising of all, Mr Larson then ordered me to destroy the maps. He worried about the Germans discovering them during random house searches, and believed they were no longer of any use to anyone. I promised I would, but couldn’t bring myself to. Instead, I hid them beneath the floorboards in my bedroom. It was dangerous, crazy even. If they were found, I’d never see the light of day again. But, to me, those maps remained important. I wasn’t ready to give up so fast.
The following Saturday was my birthday. In the evening Dieter Braun turned up at our front door wearing a big smile and, as always, bearing a small gift for Mother. Sometimes it was silk stockings or a scarf, once a carefully wrapped Bavarian sausage. This evening it was a bottle of schnapps. As always, Mother took the offering and thanked him politely. But she never, ever smiled or welcomed him in with open arms.
‘Anna, he’s here,’ she shouted up the stairs.
Dieter hovered in the porch, hunched and shivering in the frozen air, shifting his weight from one polished boot to the other, blowing steamy breaths between clasped fingers that had turned a bloodless blue. As always, he was in uniform and wore his peaked cap at an exaggerated tilt, hinting at a reckless, fun-loving streak. He saw me loitering in the hallway and his ice-blue eyes widened.
‘Ah, Finn. And how are you this evening?’
‘I was fine until you showed up.’
He spotted Oslo, who’d roused himself from in front of the fire to come and see what all the kerfuffle was about. Oslo growled at him. ‘That dog doesn’t appear to like me,’ he added.
‘No. He’s well trained,’ I said sharply.
Dieter grinned and reached into his pocket. ‘Happy birthday, Finn! Here, I’ve got something for you.’
Dogfight Page 20
