Seaton said, ‘I’ve a lot to learn.’
Trevor raised the hatch again. ‘We all have.’ He nodded. ‘See you later.’
Alone again, Seaton lay back and tried to think clearly. About Trevor, this extraordinary man who could joke about hot baths, worry over secrecy, and chill with his descriptions of brutal torture.
And the girl who must remain in the distance, unformed, like someone you see in a train as it pulls from the station leaving you behind, in ignorance of her and her world.
He scrambled up, and after a few attempts opened the peephole again. It was darker, and the cargo lights on the Hansa’s decks were extinguished.
Seaton measured the angle of attack with his eye, calmly and professionally.
Then he closed the peephole and sat down, thinking of the man with the drilled teeth.
Why had Trevor really told him? Because of security? Or was it that he thought he was getting soft, unable to go through with the attack?
And Venables. Seaton had a sudden picture of him in some Admiralty corridor or a deep secret bunker.
‘Not taking this Saturday off, Venables, old chap?’
Venables would not have that or any day off while his project was under way.
The day after tomorrow.
Captain Walter Venables would be peering through the wall, across the bleak North Sea, up to Norway. Seaton shuddered. To here. Heads you lose. Tails I win.
Down below he heard somebody stoking up the fire, the clink of cups. The working day on the pier was ending. Tomorrow would seem very long indeed.
Sub Lieutenant Richard Niven stood motionless on the pier and allowed his eyes to become used to the darkness. Somewhere below his sea-boots XE 16 lay snugly against the piles while Drake and Jenkyn carried on with their battery-charging. He could not hear them because of the louder rumble of the cement barge’s generator. It still took a lot to grasp, let alone get used to. All the din in the world, when his original training had laid stress on stealth and quiet.
He knew that some Norwegians were posted at each end of the pier, just to be on the safe side, as Trevor had explained. But no trouble was expected from the Germans.
Niven kept telling himself to stop thinking about it. After all, why should the Germans be worried? There had been no incidents here before, they were well protected, and their precious ship was deep inside a steep, dangerous fjord. The nearest Allied soldier was more than two hundred miles away. To someone who lived in Dover, just across the English Channel from the most invincible military machine ever created, the distance would seem like the Pacific.
He heard someone singing from the small bridge on the cement barge. Again it did not bear thinking about. Seaton was aboard right now, having a bath.
Niven plucked the sweater from his skin. He had already had one. Caution, anxiety had gone momentarily with the first blast of a piping-hot shower. He had ducked and panted, letting the water sluice across every inch of his body, until Drake had peered in at him and drawled, ‘Come on, you gorgeous thing, don’t make a bloody meal of it! Remember the poor Colonials!’
He was so different. Nothing seemed to worry him.
A torch flashed up through the rough planking by Niven’s feet. The battery-charge was over for the present. He relaxed slightly and walked hesitantly along the pier.
It must be a hard life, he thought, even in peacetime. He could smell oil and dust, salt and fish. It was all completely alien.
Decia would ask him about it when he got back. He could see her. Her eyes direct and changing from amusement to impatience.
‘What do you mean, you don’t know, Richard? Why won’t you ask people? Find out what life is about?’
He had watched her curled up in the big house while she and her father had listened to Drake talking about New Zealand, the islands, about sharks and exotic-sounding foods. Decia had been fascinated.
Niven reached the end of the pier and braced himself for the wind which he knew was waiting beyond the corrugated iron barrier.
What could he say to her about his work which would impress, or satisfy? The strength had to come from within, not like some stupid film, a cavalry charge with Errol Flynn to the rescue. He was walking more quickly in time with his resentment. Decia’s father was partly to blame, and heaven alone knew what he said to her when they were parted.
He stumbled over an iron ring-bolt, and would have fallen headlong into the darkness if someone had not caught his arm.
‘Hell, I’m sorry!’ He straightened up, getting his balance again. ‘I don’t know what –’ He froze, unable to move or breathe.
The man who had stopped him from falling was a German soldier.
David Seaton dragged a comb through his hair and regarded himself in a steamy bulhead mirror. Even though he had dressed in the same clothing as before, he felt tingling and alert from the hot shower. He touched his chin and smiled at himself. Shower and shave, what simple things to prepare a man.
He looked slowly around the tiny bath space, making sure he had left nothing which might throw suspicion on the Norwegian crewmen.
Lastly, he buckled on his pistol. That too brought it home. With little trouble he could hit Saturday’s target with this revolver from the nearest scuttle.
Seaton opened the door as he heard Jenkyn’s voice in the passageway.
‘What is it, Alec?’
Jenkyn stopped dead and stared at him, his eyes glazed under the deckhead light.
‘You’d better get up to the pier, Skipper. Chop, chop. There’s been some trouble.’ He swung round to follow as Seaton strode past. ‘Mr Niven’s been in a spot of bother.’
Seaton barely heard him. This was how it came. With the speed of light, the deadly accuracy of a bullet.
Two or three Norwegians stood aside as they hurried past, and Jenkyn added, ‘Number One’s standin’ fast on board.’
It was Trevor’s voice which Seaton heard first when he was still some twenty feet from the little room with the stove.
‘What do you mean, you didn’t think? You bloody half-wit, don’t you realise what you’ve done?’
Seaton threw open the door and stood just inside. Everyone had frozen at his entrance, like figures in an unfinished picture. Jens sitting at the table, his big fingers interlaced in front of him. Niven, pale, fists clenched at his sides, his mouth quivering with both anger and humiliation. Two other men stood by the far wall, while Trevor was facing Niven, hands out-thrust as if to seize and strangle him.
‘That’s enough!’ Seaton stood very still, conscious of his own heartbeat. ‘If you have anything to say to one of my company, then tell me first!’
Trevor looked at him and groaned. ‘I give up. I really do!’
Jens said, ‘We have a problem, David.’
He gestured to a patch of shadow, and Seaton realised for the first time that a man lay on the floor.
Trevor added bitterly, ‘A bloody Kraut, that’s all I needed!’
Seaton crossed to the side and looked down at the soldier. He was dressed in field-grey, long coat and muddy jackboots. He wore a gasmask container, a short bayonet, and his helmet stood upside down near his head like a chamber-pot.
He was tied up with codline, and had a gag which was so tight he was nearly choking. Above it, his eyes stood out white and bulging, and his forehead was dappled with sweat.
About my own age, Seaton thought.
Jens stood up and joined him, his towering shadow rising across the wall like a black spectre.
Sadly he explained, ‘He is one of the guards from the prison camp. The Russians were gone, but this man found he had left his torch behind. Rather than get into trouble for losing it, he came back.’
Seaton asked, ‘Past your men?’
‘They were taken by surprise. By then it was too late. In any case, they know this man, just as he knows most of us.’
Trevor exclaimed, ‘But for Sub Lieutenant bloody Niven here, it would all have gone off all right. Might even have
helped to lull suspicion later on. As it is….’ He did not finish.
Seaton watched the German’s eyes. They had fixed on him, and he guessed that the sight of a uniform, no matter how crumpled and alien, would do much to steady his nerves. He probably imagined up to now that he had stumbled on a Resistance meeting, or a black-market sale. Either would mean his death.
Seaton asked, ‘What happens now?’
‘Good question.’ Trevor was in control of himself again, but only just. ‘Give me time to think.’
One of the others murmured something and Trevor snapped back, ‘I know that he’s got to be killed, for God’s sake. How is worrying me.’
Seaton looked away. Killed. It sounded quite different from killed in action, missing, failed to return, and all those other things they put in the reports. This was like slaughtering a pig.
He saw Niven watching him, his face creased with worry.
‘Tell me about it.’
Niven spread his hands. ‘I was walking. After the battery-charge. I must have forgotten.’ He sounded dazed. ‘Then I tripped and would have fallen off the pier.’
Trevor said, ‘Pity you didn’t!’
Seaton asked calmly, ‘What came next?’
‘The German was coming round the corner, and caught me, stopped me from going over. I thought –’ He shook his head. ‘I – I don’t know what I thought!’
Jens murmured, ‘Knut, one of my men, arrived at that moment.’ He made a slicing motion with his hand. ‘He took care of the German.’
Trevor left the table and said quietly, ‘Look, David, it’s not what you’re thinking. We’re not all killers, enjoying ourselves like kids every time a Jerry gets the chop.’
‘Go on, I’m listening.’ Seaton turned away from the two bulging eyes in the corner.
‘This German, our German, is going to be missed sooner or later.’ Trevor was ticking off the points on his fingers. ‘If we kill him here and drop him in the fjord, the Germans are going to keep searching and will probably wreck this mission. If they find his corpse, they’ll take hostages, call in the Gestapo from Bergen, and begin making reprisals everywhere. And if we don’t dump him in the water, they’ll find him and do the same anyway.’
Jenkyn cleared his throat and asked thickly, ‘Beg pardon, but can I say somethin’?’ They all looked at him. ‘Why don’t we put ’im in the barge and they can take ’im somewhere.’
Jens answered, ‘If the barge-master even knows we have a German soldier here he will lose his nerve. He has already risked enough.’
Trevor sighed. ‘Nice try. Alec, but we’d still be left with the search parties after the barge had left.’
Seaton said slowly, ‘I suppose we could take him with us when we leave?’
Trevor smiled at him. ‘After your charges explode the Jerries will come down on this area like the fiends of hell. Any suspicion will put other lives in serious danger. Would you hesitate, David, if you saw a hundred Germans in your crosswires, let alone this one?’
‘No. All the same….’
‘There’s too much at stake.’ Trevor sounded impatient. ‘I’ll not risk any more because of him.’
The door opened a few inches and Jens strode over to speak with somebody.
He came back and said quietly, ‘They have found this man’s motor cycle. On the top road. It is why he was not heard in time.’
Seaton felt sick. There was no emotion. It was a discussion, but a man would die.
He said, ‘Suppose the attack was brought forward to tomorrow? We are ready. The Germans would probably think this soldier had been lost in the explosion.’
Trevor grimaced. ‘Good try, David.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘But the cement barge is not permitted to leave here until Saturday, and the Germans never budge from their orders. Especially this time. After the barge passes through the defences the entrance will be sealed.’ He waved one hand around the room. ‘The pier will be abandoned. They have all the concrete they need now.’ He tried to smile. ‘And when the barge goes through the gate, your submarine will be with her. Now you know why it has to be Saturday!’
Jenkyn said anxiously, ‘I’d better get back aboard, Skipper. Number One’ll be wonderin’ wot the ’ell is ’appenin’.’ His South London accent was more pronounced than usual.
‘Yes.’ Their eyes met. ‘Richard, go with him.’
At the door Niven swung round and faced Trevor. ‘What will you do with him?’
‘What he would have done to you, but for Jens’ man.’ Trevor seemed to relent, and he added, ‘Thank God he had a motor bike. We take it up the road and skid it into the side of the fjord. There are rocks about ninety feet down. They’ll think he went over the top by accident.’ He shrugged. ‘I hope.’
The door closed and Jens asked, ‘Drink, David?’
‘Not just now.’ He felt the others moving restlessly. Wanting to get it over.
Trevor said, ‘We’re not like the enemy. But it’s them or us. It’s not a bloody game.’
He nodded his head and they dragged the German to his feet and untied his legs. He was making gurgling sounds, and Seaton knew he was vomiting into his gag.
Seaton could see it as if it had already happened. As if he were there. First the motor cycle. Then a quick removal of codline and gag and the German soldier would follow. Out and down into the wind and darkness. If he found breath to give a last scream it would only add authenticity, should anyone hear.
The door was open and he watched the man being bustled outside. His eyes never left Seaton’s face. Pleading.
Then Trevor said, ‘Sorry about that. You’ve got enough to think about.’
Seaton eyed him calmly. ‘So has young Niven. We’ll be relying on him too on Saturday, just in case you’d forgotten it!’ He went out, slamming the door behind him.
Down the ladder and along the black casing, and then through XE 16’s after hatch. He sank down on a locker and looked at the others.
Drake asked, ‘Okay, Dave?’
Seaton took several deep breaths. He had imagined that after the crisp air ashore, the relative freedom of movement, it would be hard to come back. Instead it was like a homecoming.
He answered quietly, ‘I’m getting over it.’ He looked at his friend’s eyes. ‘But I’ll never get used to it.’
Jenkyn remarked, ‘I wonder who the Jerry was?’
Niven turned on him wildly. ‘For Christ’s sake drop it, will you! I slipped up, but don’t you ever make a bloody mistake?’
Jenkyn met his stare coldly. ‘Just the one, sir.’ He turned towards the forward watertight door. ‘An’ that was when I agreed to serve alongside you!’
Seaton said, ‘Enough. Both of you. It takes time to adjust. We’ve not been used to having others around, or so many depending on us, for that matter.’ He watched the tension draining out of them. ‘The methods alter but the objective is the same, and is sitting on the other side of the fjord. Waiting for us to finish what we came to do.’
Drake said, ‘Don’t worry, Dave. It’ll go like clockwork. The Old Firm.’ He patted Niven’s shoulder. ‘Forget it. This isn’t the Royal Yacht, y’know.’
Jenkyn showed his teeth. ‘Wish it was.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll wet the tea.’
Seaton leaned back and allowed his limbs to relax. The flare-up had been quelled. This time.
For most of the following day XE 16 lay submerged under the pier, while her company went through their routine. Once again the sturdy little boat presented no problems. The checks had to be doubly thorough, there was no second go. Occasionally they heard the vague rumbling of machinery from the big cement barge, as she too prepared to set out on her return passage. It was a reminder of finality. Of purpose.
Soon after dusk, and Jens’ signal that all was clear, they surfaced between the piles in a manner born. The ‘signal’ consisted of a large spanner being lowered on a line to clank three times on the casing. It was in no instruction book, but it worked every time.
Seat
on left his companions to complete the topping-up of the fuel, the loading of some fresh food and bread which Jens’ wife had sent for them.
Even the little room seemed and felt different. For one thing, it was cold and the stove stood black and empty. Seaton guessed that the hiding-place in the roof had also been stripped, to leave no sign of his brief stay, and of others who had gone before.
The many thousands of unknown people. Who did what they could, even if it was only in kindness. Or like the cement barge skipper and his men. They would never believe just how important their part was to the whole. Men like Jens, and the women who waited for their return, or the dreaded kicks on the door.
Jens and Trevor were waiting for him.
Trevor spoke first. ‘It’s all quiet. A patrol came here this morning. They found the body and the motor bike. The soldier had told someone he was coming back for his torch.’ He shrugged. ‘So it all worked out very well.’
Jens said, ‘The feldwebel with that patrol seemed more worried about getting the torch back than losing one of his men!’ But he did not smile.
‘Let’s get it over with.’ Trevor sounded unusually tense. ‘Sit down, David. I wasn’t going to tell you, but I’ve been outvoted, persuaded that it’s not right you should be in the dark.’
Jens said, ‘You’d find out anyway when you reached England. I would not wish you to think badly of us, or that we did not trust you.’
Trevor continued, ‘Those steel deckhouses aboard the Hansa. I do know what they’re for, as it happens.’
Seaton watched him, conscious of the tension, the sudden feeling of dread which he could not explain.
‘The Germans started it in Denmark. The R.A.F. were getting so successful with pin-point bombing of important objectives that they decided to take tougher precautions. They filled the top floors of all the priority targets with Danish prisoners, political, Resistance, suspects, anybody. After that, any success achieved by the R.A.F. would be tainted and devalued by the loss of so many loyal Danes. London agreed to step-up aid to the Resistance and leave the work to them instead.’
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