These shafts emerged from the ground alongside the building and terminated a couple of feet above the roof, like large chimneys. I wondered if the Swedes played basketball; it was going to take an accurate throw to put a grenade into one of those things. Why they had to be so big was not clear, since a simple four-inch pipe would have carried the heavy electrical cable that came out of each one, with room to spare. Apparently the seven cables, in addition to needing plenty of room in the conduits that brought them up from their mysterious sources underground, also had to be well separated from each other, presumably for electronic reasons. Each one, therefore, was carried on tall poles straight out from its wall of the building; it then swung around the building at an even distance—some fifteen feet—from its neighbors. I noted that no cable was allowed to cross the walk employed by people. A couple were brought the long way around the building instead, suggesting that there might be energy fields involved that were not entirely harmless. Finally, all seven cables, nearly parallel, marched off together on their poles in a northerly direction to be distributed among the seven peculiar towers in the antenna field.
I was debating awakening my relief, towards midnight, when she roused of her own accord. I heard her putting herself together behind me; then she came up and touched me on the shoulder.
“My turn, I think,” she whispered. “Is anything happening?”
“Nothing has moved for the past hour.” I yawned. “Well, wake me if you see or hear anything you don’t understand.”
“Ha, I do not understand anything I see over there. That strange, buried building! All those tall masts and thick wires and fat little towers with strange saucers on them!” She laughed ruefully. “Good night, Matt.”
It wasn’t the most comfortable night I ever spent out; but it was by no means the worst, either. The ground was damp, of course, but we had no rain or snow to contend with, and not much wind. I was running pretty far behind on my sleep, so I managed to doze off all right; but towards morning I found myself awake and reaching for my gun, although I wasn’t aware of having heard anything disturbing. I lay listening for a while. Nothing moved along the ridge or, if it did, it was very good at moving silently.
Karin started when I touched her. “Oh, you are awake. Good, I hated to disturb you, you were sleeping so well, but I am having much trouble keeping my eyes open.”
“Anything to report?”
“I have seen and heard nothing. Except that they changed people in the Mörkrum at midnight, right after you went to sleep. Eight men and two women went in; four women and six men came out. They were all dressed in white overalls. Overalls? Coveralls?” She shrugged. “And another man in uniform relieved the one at the gate.”
“Nothing else?”
“No.”
I said, watching her shadowy face, “It’s your show, but I wonder if it might not be a good idea for me to make a little scouting expedition along the ridge just to see if anybody’s managed to sneak up on us.”
Karin was silent for a little, then she spoke carefully: “No, Matt, it would not be a good idea.” After a little pause, she went on: “You are a very clever man, and very good at what you do, but I do not want you to be so good and clever tonight. Just sit here and be a good boy while I take a nap, please.”
“You’re asking a lot. I haven’t had much practice being a good boy. But I’ll give it a try.”
After she’d settled down in the blankets in the small hollow above and behind me, I sat there listening, but there was really nothing to hear. I just knew they were out there, and so did Karin. She’d practically admitted it, and ordered me to leave them alone. I wondered who they were, and how many, and what the little girl thought she was up to…
Well, it would probably all become clear in time. I let my mind drift through memories unpleasant and pleasant, mostly of a sexual nature, as a man will. The girl sleeping nearby, who’d found me lacking in warmth if not in experience. The somewhat older woman in whose arms I’d performed quite passionately, perhaps even overdoing the virility bit; but she hadn’t seemed to mind. There was really no use in thinking about her, however, because we obviously had no future together. She had her country and I had mine and never the twain could meet, although it might be better for the world—certainly for us—if they did.
Then they were there. I was aware of distant shadows drifting along the outside of the Laxfors fence, approaching from the south, from my right, the easy way we hadn’t come. There were a good many of them, half a dozen or more. That was the main force. A smaller group, by the sound, was already in among the trees of the ridge. They were still well off to my right but angling towards me, moving more stealthily than the others; but it was difficult terrain for the silent sneak, with plenty of rustling brush and loose rattling rock. I stole back up to where Karin slept.
“Company coming,” I whispered.
She sat up, shoving back her blankets. “How much company, Matt?”
“The hostiles are infiltrating the area in two waves,” I whispered. “Or are they friendlies? Whose sides are we on, anyway? I can’t tell the players without a scorecard. Anyway, six or seven or eight—it’s hard to count shadows—are approaching along the fence. I assume they’re heading for the place closest to the Darkroom, with penetration in mind. Two or three or four, more than one anyway, are coming up the ridge at a slant, presumably for purposes of observation. They could even be aiming for this lookout spot of ours.”
“Well, why should they not?” Karin asked. “We decided that it was the best place from which to watch; preliminary scouting could have brought them to the same conclusion.”
“We’d better pull back to the crest,” I said. “Let me have those blankets… You haven’t left any monogrammed compacts, or signet rings with the family crest? Okay, let’s go. Take it very easy.” I’d already, like a good commander, selected a vantage point to which we could retreat if dislodged from our first position. “Okay, now keep your face down… What the hell is that?”
A sudden blare of sound had broken the stillness of the morning. It was distant, but it was obviously choral music and we could even make out the words: Vårt land, vårt land, vårt fosterland, ljud högt o dyra ord… Somebody had obviously set up a PA system over by the gate; but the record or tape being played was reinforced by the singing of flesh-and-blood people, quite a large number of them. They were belting out the Swedish national anthem at full volume: “Our land, our land, our native land, sound high, oh, precious words…” Okay, so anthems don’t translate Very well. Try “The Star-Spangled Banner” in Swedish sometime. Or those amber waves of grain.
The weird thing was that they’d sing it at all. American protesters don’t go in for patriotic songs much, regardless of what they’re protesting against. Or for. These Swedish kids were proclaiming, I guess, that what they were doing was not only for peace but for their country; they were putting the fatherland, or motherland, back on the right track, and to hell with the sneaky Amerikanare and their vicious toys.
25
The boys and girls put on quite a show. There were a lot of them around the gate, and they all had blazing torches, which they waved as they sang; quite spectacular even at the distance, like a rippling lake of fire. But the time for torches was slipping away: the eastern horizon beyond them was lightening noticeably.
Karin touched my arm warningly. I lowered my face and lay very still; but it was only a shadowy figure that had taken a few steps up the hill from the little group of three that had usurped our lookout spot some fifty feet down the slope. With his back to his friends, he relieved himself—obviously a man, since he had the equipment to do it standing up. As he zipped himself up, I could see, vaguely, that he was a tallish gent with a lot of light yellow hair, which he displayed briefly, taking off his dark cap and patting his golden coiffure into place. He spent a moment setting the cap back on his head at the proper angle. So presumably there was a woman along. Unless he was of that persuasion, he wouldn’t be fixin
g his hair so nicely to impress a bunch of the boys.
Then I heard her voice, very soft: “Ragnar?”
“Jag kommer.”
The blond one turned away from us, and moved back down the slope to rejoin the woman who had spoken. There had been no mistaking that feminine voice, even speaking just the single name. I suppose I should have known that there would have to be a final meeting.
“Yes, it is Astrid.” Karin’s lips were close to my ear.
“So that’s why we’re here,” I breathed.
“Yes, I knew she would come here!” Karin’s voice was triumphant. “She is too important, of course, to demonstrate in company with the peace-loving mob she has gathered for her Communist purposes, and perhaps be arrested; but I knew that she would not leave without seeing her plans executed. I knew she would have to come to this spot or somewhere close by. I knew that if I could come here this morning, with your help, I would find her here. Now you must remember, deal with the men how you wish, but keep them from interfering. That is why you are here, please. But do not touch Astrid, no matter what happens. I know what I am doing. Please leave her to me no matter what she attempts to do. She is mine!”
“Shhh, not so loud, they’ll hear you…”
We lay there for a moment, quite still; but the silence below us did not indicate that we had been detected. The music protected us. They’d switched to an old Swedish folk song now, one my mother used to sing. Astrid and her companions were waiting for something. A bright metal wand gleamed down there: the antenna of a walkie-talkie. Astrid was holding it. The man called Ragnar had his left arm in front of his face; I realized that he was peering at his wristwatch. He spoke one word to Astrid, and she spoke one word into her radio. Then all three of them turned to look in the direction of the fence, where it made its closest approach to the low, black, geometrical structure known as the Darkroom. Shadowy figures were now slipping through a hole that had been made in the wire, and running to distribute themselves around the building in a very organized fashion, splitting up systematically left and right. I counted seven of them, one person for each face of the octagon except the front. Or to put it differently, one grenade for each ventilator shaft.
“I don’t think much of the Laxfors alarm system,” I whispered.
“They have taken care of it,” Karin breathed. “That is, they think they have taken care of it.”
“What about those fat cables on poles the kids are running under?” I asked. “The way they’ve got them isolated, there must be some kind of radiation…”
“It is not good with long or repeated exposure, but a few minutes will not harm.” Karin drew a long breath. “Now it is our turn. Remember, you are to take care of the men as necessary; but you must leave her to me!” She put her hand on my arm. “Please trust me. I am on the right side, I promise you. There will be no sabotage here if you help me. It has all been arranged. I give you my word that it is acceptable for you, as an American agent, to help me.”
I’d been wondering what an honest, straight-shooting Yankee boy was doing with a gun in a spot like this, not knowing what the legitimate targets were, if any. But I did know what side Astrid was on, and presumably that went for her two male associates. It wasn’t mine. Which put me on Karin’s side, if only by default; and her intensity carried conviction.
“Okay, I’m with you,” I said. “Cut loose your wolf.”
“‘Cut loose my…’ I really must learn that language!” Karin drew a long breath and raised her head. Astrid!”’
There was a moment of frozen silence; then the two men started to move simultaneously.
“Look behind you, Astrid!” Karin called. “That was Frederik’s mistake; he turned his back on the wrong person. You should have learned from that experience, Astrid!”
Blond Ragnar was faster; he got halfway turned around. I could see the gleam of his gun. There’s nothing like a firearm swinging your way to resolve all humanitarian doubts: I put one into the middle of him and turned my attention to the other, also armed; but he was slow or just hesitant. He hadn’t fired at my muzzle flash, so I took a chance and put one past his head. He turned and ran, blundering away through the trees that were just becoming faintly visible as the east grew brighter. I looked at Ragnar; but he was down, facedown, and his pistol gleamed faintly a few feet beyond his outstretched hand.
I saw that, strangely, Astrid had not stirred. She was standing perfectly still where she had been, her back to us. Now, moving very deliberately, she laid the walkie-talkie down on my old sitting-rock. She turned at last, steadying the shoulder strap bag she carried. Unable to see us in the weak dawn light, hidden as we still were in the brush of the crest, she took a step up towards us. When she spoke, it wasn’t to Karin.
“Matthew?”
“Right here.”
I stood up, keeping an eye on the darker shadow on the ground down there; but Ragnar of the Golden Locks, although I thought he was breathing, made no move to reclaim his lost firearm.
“Yes,” Astrid said quietly. “It would be you. I knew we would come to this in the end. I am sorry.” She drew a long breath. “Where does that noisy little Segerby girl hide?”
Karin rose to stand beside me. “Here I am, Astrid. I have come to kill you. Do I have to tell you why?”
Astrid laughed scornfully. “You are a stupid child, and your Frederik was an interfering fool!”
Karin took two steps down the slope towards the shadowy figure that was becoming clearer by the minute as the sky became lighter in the east. The smaller girl had her derringer out, I saw. She’d reclaimed it earlier, giving back the silenced High Standard with the depleted magazine. She’d said she preferred the little two-barreled job because it was her own. Where she’d stopped was still long range for the snub-nosed piece, and I remembered the overheavy triggerpull; but this business was between the two of them and I knew that Karin would have accepted no coaching from me even if I’d been inclined to give it.
Astrid looked up at the younger girl. She spoke quite calmly: “You will never hit me with that toy, my dear.”
There was a momentary pause as Karin struggled with the gun; then the sharp crack of the .22 Magnum shattered the morning stillness. Untouched, Astrid laughed and brought her hand out of her big purse. She was holding, not a firearm, but a dull metal cylinder about the size of a can of beer, but there was gadgetry at one end not to be found on any beer can. I checked the impulse to throw myself backwards, putting the crest of the ridge between me and the handgranat. Curiosity kept me motionless. I know what I’m doing, Karin had said, confidently. She was taking a long time with her second shot. Astrid laughed again at the threat of the little pistol. Her hands came together; I saw her pull the pin. Starting to raise the grenade for the throw, she let the firing lever flip upwards…
There should, of course, have been a delay, perhaps as short as three seconds, perhaps as long as five or six. The instant crack of the incendiary’s bursting charge came as a shocking surprise. I thought I caught a glimpse of Astrid as the thing blew up in her grasp; but perhaps I just imagined her torn face staring incredulously at her mangled hands, in the moment before the fireball enveloped her, sending a wave of heat our way. I did see her clearly as the first incendiary blast faded. I told myself I was a tough guy and wasn’t going to look away, dammit; and I saw her still standing there with her hair on fire and her clothes melting into flaming driblets of petrochemical material that no longer bore any resemblance to cloth, just as she had already ceased to look like flesh and blood…
Then there was nothing but a blackened, smoking stick figure lying stiffly on its side in an area of scorched and smoking brush, like something wild left behind among the charred stumps of the forest fire that had caught and killed it. Karin was the first to stir. She ran down past the body and picked up the walkie-talkie and spoke into it. Somebody asked a scratchy question in Swedish, presumably about the fireworks up here.
“Ja, vi maste skynda,” Karin sa
id. “Gör det nu!”
Yes, we must hurry; do it now, she’d said; and a whistle blew, down by the fence. Immediately, there were sharp cracking sounds all around the octagonal building down there, followed by horrified screams of agony. I could see four of the fireballs from where I stood; three were outside my field of view. Karin watched coldly as the incendiaries burned out; then she put down the radio and came back up the slope to the inhuman figure lying there. I moved down to her. When she raised her head to look at me, her face was bleak and much older than it had been. She started to speak, but there were suddenly figures in the woods all around us. Karin put her hand quickly on my arm.
“No. Do not resist. It is all right.”
They were mostly in Swedish Army uniforms, mostly armed with the SVAB machine pistols. The Segerby Weapons Company was doing a land-office business in the north-land today. These were, I knew, the men I’d heard moving in during the night; the ones Karin hadn’t let me investigate.
Another voice spoke: “Please put your gun away, Helm; it makes my soldier friends very nervous.”
It was Olaf Stjernhjelm’s voice. He came out of the trees and strode up to me. He as not in uniform. Except for his hiking boots, he looked as if he were about to do a bit of cross-country skiing. We faced each other for a moment, before he spoke again, choosing his words very carefully.
“You have reason not to like me. I regret what happened in Stockholm. It was necessary to impress my fanatic young accomplices with my utter ruthlessness and complete devotion to their cause. Will you accept my apology?”
I’d had pleasant dreams of dismembering this man joint by joint; but if you’re a pro, you can’t waste your time getting even with everybody.
I said, “Be my guest. Hell, it only hurts when I breathe. Do I gather that you actually work for the Swedish government? And Karin, too?”
He nodded. “Yes, she offered her services after her husband was murdered. She has been very useful.”
The Vanishers Page 25