Most of his nakedness was covered in bandages and plasters, and the skin which still showed was blotchy with savage bruises.
The doctor pulled the sheets off him completely, reciting the injuries in the same severe tone. ‘Four ribs cracked, and a finger on your left hand fractured. Severe bruising, and I did think that a lung might be injured.’
Seaton looked at his face. There was a great bruise above one eye, and he could tell from the soreness on his scalp that some stitching had replaced the Germans’ field-dressings.
Even his groin felt on fire, as if his body was falling into separate halves.
Brynjulf said, ‘I have had your passenger brought here. When I explained to him what had happened, he agreed to disclose where he had hidden his secret device.’ He laid a hand on Seaton’s shoulder, easing him back on the bed. ‘So you see, my brave friend, you can rest now. I regret that your uniform was needed. It will be left many miles from here, somewhere the Germans cannot fail to find it. They will think you are heading for Sweden, as others have done.’
Seaton shook his head from side to side. ‘You don’t understand. My boat cannot survive just because I want it to. It is small, vulnerable, and can only exist on her very limited resources.’ He watched the liquid eyes translating his words into reality. ‘But how could you understand that?’
The doctor snapped his bag shut. ‘I am going now. I have never seen you in my life.’ He waved his hat with a flourish. ‘Good luck.’
Brynjulf waited for the doctor to leave. ‘I had not thought about that.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘What do you suggest?’
Seaton lay back, staring at a crack in the ceiling. ‘We have missed the contact time. It will have to be tomorrow.’ He thought of Drake again. Please God let him be able to cope. ‘You will have to get us out to the wreck. I’ll bet the Jerries are combing the whole town for me.’
‘That is why your uniform must be found, and quickly.’
The door opened again and he saw her standing in the entrance watching him, her hair very pale against the landing beyond.
He tried to cover his nakedness, but Brynjulf said softly, ‘She took care of you until the doctor came.’
She stood beside the bed and touched his shoulder, her fingers cool, gentle.
‘I am so very sorry, David. For what happened, for what they did to you.’
It all came back. The voice; her accent. The long, sloping pier in the fjord.
He reached out and gripped her hand. She did not resist, nor did she return the pressure. He saw that her eyes were wet from crying.
She said, ‘Trevor died just now.’
Seaton squeezed her hand. ‘Thank God.’
She smiled sadly. ‘I saw you warning me in the café. Another minute and the patrols would have been questioning everyone.’ She bent over and kissed him lightly, her hair touching the bruise on the opposite side of his forehead.
Brynjulf said, ‘You must go now.’
Seaton held on to her hand, suddenly desperate. ‘Where?’
‘The uniform. I will take it to a train and place it well away from here.’
‘No. Leave it. Don’t risk your life again, please!’
She watched him gravely. ‘You must be allowed to escape. You will have a valuable passenger. We have come this far. It is too late for second thoughts.’
Seaton tried not to see the glaring cell, the water, the moaning, bloated body on the floor. Next time it could be she.
‘You’d risk all this for a traitor’s safety?’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’ She released her fingers very gently. ‘God be with you, David.’ Then she was gone.
Seaton wiped his mouth with his hand. ‘You should have stopped her!’
Brynjulf smiled. ‘She is doing it for us all. It is her way of showing things.’ He looked away. ‘The traitor is her brother.’
‘Look, Geoff, what exactly are we going to do?’ Niven was standing, his head slightly bowed below the dripping plates.
Drake swilled some cold tea round his mouth and then swallowed it. It made no difference. The taste remained. Stale and dank.
He had not really expected Seaton to return when he had surfaced the boat. But as the contact time had passed, and XE 16 had sidled awkwardly around the wreck buoys, he had felt disappointed and strangly unnerved. He had opened the hatch and they had sucked at the brittle, icy air as if it was pure wine.
He had postponed the moment of diving, and had hung on, still hoping.
Then Jenkyn had called, ‘No go. Take ’er down, Number One.’
He had done that badly, too. They had glanced off a projection on the wreck’s bilge, and it had taken long minutes to bring the submarine under control.
Another long day. Endless. Broken only by mechanical checks and taking turns at watchkeeping. Hot tea, benzedrine, a tot of brandy. It was all anyone could keep down.
The air fouled steadily through the day, and Jenkyn said nothing after checking the batteries. He did not have to.
Now it was evening again. Almost time to surface.
Niven said impatiently, ‘We can’t damn well stay here forever!’
Jenkyn looked at his filthy hands. ‘It’s a decision, ain’t it? I mean, it’s your decision, Number One.’ Jenkyn tried again. ‘Look at it this way. If the skipper’s bought it, or bin nicked, us stayin’ ’ere ain’t goin’ to solve a thing, right?’
Drake nodded. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Right then.’ Jenkyn watched him. ‘An’ if either one of them things ’as ’appened, we’ve lost the bleedin’ passenger, too!’
‘He means –’ Niven recoiled as Drake swung on him.
‘I know what he means! That I’ve got to get the boat out of here and double bloody quick! Otherwise there’ll be no towing submarine at the rendezvous, or else we’ll not be able to reach the position for want of power! You don’t have to spell it out.’
‘Sorry.’ Niven turned away, hurt and angry.
Jenkyn persisted, ‘You’d leave the skipper, would you?’
Drake rested his head in his hands. ‘There’s no other way, unless …’ He looked up. ‘I could get into a suit and swim ashore.’
Niven stared at him. ‘Oh, that would be fine! You’d go wandering round Bergen, while we’d be left here on our own. We’d never get free, just the two of us, but you’d be out there telling everyone you’d done your best!’
Jenkyn squared his shoulders. ‘Steady, gents! Life’s a bit dicky for all of us at the moment. Let’s not start doin’ a knees-up, eh?’ He watched them, as a man studies the movements of dangerous dogs. ‘We’ve all known this might ’appen one day. So let’s get on with it. Surface and take a gander for the skipper. After that, we’ve no choice but to obey ’is last order.’ Even the words seemed to choke him, and he turned towards the lowered periscope as if expecting to see Seaton there. ‘But I’ll never forget ’im, never as long as I live, an’ that’s a fact!’
His sudden show of emotion had its effect on Drake. He said, ‘We will do just that.’ He smiled, the effort making him look worse. ‘And thanks, Alec.’
But as the time to move drew nearer, Drake felt the same gnawing tension more strongly than ever. They went over their checks, keeping their voices low, even formal, and when the electric motor purred into life it seemed to scrape at his mind like an additional claw.
The motor would not stop again until they surfaced clear of the fjord and switched to the diesel for battery charging. It set the moment of decision better than any recording in the log.
Jenkyn said quietly, ‘Pressure’s mountin’ a good bit, Number One. Better watch it when you open the ’atch or you’ll get blown out like a cork.’
Drake nodded, knowing Niven was watching him and waiting for the inevitable.
In fact, Niven did not wait. ‘I’ll go, shall I? You’ve all the experience with pumps and hydroplanes.’
Drake replied, ‘Yes. Stand by to raise the stick as we lift to nine feet. I hope to God it wasn’t
damaged when we hit the wreck.’
Niven crouched by the periscope and rested his gloved hands on the grips.
Drake looked at him. He’s loving it. Every bloody minute of it.
‘All quiet.’ Jenkyn slammed down his switches. ‘Not even a rubber duck waitin’ for us.’ He glanced across his shoulder. ‘Better get goin’, Number One.’
Drake swallowed. ‘Good idea. Maybe we can hook on to a buoy and listen for a bit longer.’
Cautiously, like one hurt too often, XE 16 swam towards the surface. Using every ounce of skill and what they had learned on the two previous occasions, Drake and Jenkyn conned the boat into the current, watching the trim, the ticking gyro compass, everything which told them better than words how she was responding.
At nine feet Niven reached for the hoist switch, and after the slightest hesitation pressed it. The hiss as the thin periscope rose from its well was like one combined sigh of relief.
Niven moved round in a circle and then returned to the original bearing, a pinpoint of green on his eye as he picked out a marker buoy.
‘All clear. Surface.’
It took another twenty minutes, nudging against a swift current and trying to stay well clear of the wreck, before Niven could guide them close enough to the buoy for him to throw a grapnel and make the boat secure on a temporary head-rope.
There was quite a wind blowing offshore, and the surface was choppy with cruising whitecaps. It gave them good cover, but made the waiting uncomfortable. Especially for Niven as he lay prone on the casing as Seaton had done when they had approached the fjord. His teeth chattered violently and his feet felt numb with cold. And yet he was strangely alive and exhilarated. Like someone else.
The hands of the clock moved round, and twice a power boat surged noisily abeam, only to disappear into the darkness.
Drake listened to Niven’s boots on the casing and then said, ‘He’ll not come, Alec. I just know it.’
He moved to the periscope and raised it quickly, swinging it towards the town, to the black mass of piers and quays where he had watched the boat carrying Seaton ashore.
How would he explain it when they got back to base? What would the others think of him? He shook himself like a dog emerging from a stream. What the hell was the matter with him? Worrying about other people’s opinions when David was out there on his own.
The speaker above the control panel squeaked, and then he heard Niven’s even voice. ‘Boat approaching the next buoy. Could be it.’
Drake also heard the metallic scrape as Niven cocked his machine-pistol.
Jenkyn licked his lips. ‘I never done it before, but I’m doin’ it now.’
‘What?’
‘Prayin’.’
The journey from the ‘safe house’ to the harbour took longer than Brynjulf had expected, and for several reasons. The streets were full of military vehicles and small squads of soldiers, helmeted and heavily armed. Even if the Germans did not know exactly what had happened, they were taking no chances and putting on a show of force.
Another reason was Seaton himself. Once out in the open he felt worse, and had a powerful Norwegian holding his arm to help him from one street corner to the next. Other shadowy figures flitted ahead of them, or padded along to cover their slow progress from behind. Brynjulf’s whole Resistance group seemed to be present, and as ready as their enemy to fight.
Brynjulf had sent some men to collect the secret device from its hiding place, although Seaton did not know where that was. What he did know was that the frightened professor, Paul Gjerde, was just a few paces behind him, protected and guarded by two villainous looking fishermen who kept their hands in their pockets.
No one in Whitehall need worry, Seaton thought bitterly. If the Germans came for them now, the girl’s brother would die instantly at the hands of his captors.
He remembered his mixed feelings when he had come face to face with Gjerde. The thought of her speeding into the night to lay a false trail for the Gestapo and military police, with the real chance of capture and torture, made him sick with anger and disgust. At the same time he felt uneasy in the man’s presence. He was younger than he had expected, with wide eyes and a sort of pathetic innocence about him. He could see the girl in his face, would have known them as brother and sister anywhere.
Seaton leaned against a wall, grateful for a pause, as someone darted up the street to consult with another lookout.
Brynjulf said, ‘Not long now. The boat is waiting. We are a little late, but …’ He shrugged.
A car roared across the end of an adjoining street, and Seaton said, ‘You did not tell her about the gantry, did you?’
‘No. As it happens, I neglected to involve her further.’
‘That was good of you.’
Brynjulf ignored the sarcasm. ‘And now she will be away when the explosion comes. One less in danger.’
‘Will there be reprisals?’
‘There are always reprisals, my friend.’ He waved to the lookout and they started to move again.
Seaton’s mind grappled with the complexity of what had begun as a well-planned mission.
As usual, the people at the top had failed to recognise the personalities on the ground.
Trevor and Brynjulf had bargained for the device and the hostage. The girl had been used to bring her brother firmly to the side he had deserted. But Gjerde had been too frightened, or had been long enough under German supervision, not to take even her presence for granted. He had understood Brynjulf and Trevor better than they had him, and had wanted to see an outsider, a British officer.
Seaton turned and glanced at the trio behind him. What was Gjerde thinking, he wondered? Because of his actions he had brought death to many. To the Hansa’s ship’s company, to the Norwegian hostages, to Thor and Trevor, and God alone knew how many others would follow. And probably it was too late to prevent the Germans exploiting his work anyway, so still more people would die when the secret rocket was brought to bear on England.
He caught the tang of fish and salt water and found he was quickening his pace, despite the pain in his battered body. He thought of her bathing his injuries, stripping away his crumpled uniform, touching him.
‘We are here.’ Brynjulf drew a pistol from his coat.
A few figures hurried from the stone stairs which led to the water and muttered with their leader.
Brynjulf nodded. ‘It is in the boat.’ He watched his men hustling the professor down the stairs. ‘My men will take care of you. The harbour-master’s men were unwilling to risk it this time.’
Seaton said, ‘The device. Is it all there?’
Brynjulf gripped his arm. ‘Yes. And so is the gantry. So we must trust one another, yes?’
Seaton peered at his watch. ‘You had better stay here. The submarine may have gone.’
‘I will wait for my men to return, with or without you.’ He put his arms around Seaton’s shoulders, as Jens had once done. ‘Maybe we will meet again one day.’
Seaton turned to go but still hesitated. ‘If you see her …’
‘I will tell her you asked about her.’ He pushed him to the stairs. ‘Now go.’
The boat surged away from the stairs, bucking as it rolled amongst the choppy water of the harbour. An aircraft roared suddenly overhead, ripping the air apart with its throaty growl. Seaton noticed that four tiny warning lights had been switched on, as if on the clouds. Of course, the German air control would switch on lights above the gantry when a friendly aircraft was returning to base. Even as the thought touched his mind the red lights went out again. He recalled his intelligence folio and the section on local anti-submarine patrols. The aircraft was probably returning to Stavanger in the south.
A man seized his arm with excitement, apparently unaware of Seaton’s injuries. He pointed across the port bow as something low and dark moved very slowly between the buoys.
Another man stood up in the swaying hull and tried to light his pipe. It took four attempts, with
the matches flaring out like small Very lights. A crude but effective signal.
The launch swung round to run parallel with the little submarine, and Seaton heard the fenders being dropped over the side to withstand the shock.
He watched as someone, probably Niven, threw a line across, and heard him call, ‘Is that you, sir?’
Seaton waved to him, realising he probably looked a total stranger in his borrowed clothing. ‘Yes!’
Far away across the harbour a narrow searchlight licked out and touched an anchored storeship. Seaton felt a new sense of urgency, but knew it was pointless to say anything. These Norwegians were unfamiliar with submarines of any size, and if he started to hurry them they would probably capsize the boat altogether.
The two hulls pounded together and a man fell headlong. Niven took in the slack of his line and then reached out to receive a heavy oilskinned bag which he then passed hastily through the hatch.
Seaton gestured to Gjerde. ‘You next. Watch your step.’
He saw the man nod and scramble awkwardly across the leaping spray. Then he too was hidden within the hull. One of the Norwegians thrust his pistol back into his pocket. To the last he had expected treachery, and had been ready to kill.
The others watched Seaton pull himself painfully over the grinding gunwale, and, with Niven’s help, make his way to the hatch.
With a coughing roar the launch swung away and headed back towards the shore.
Niven was shouting, ‘You’re hurt! Here, let me take an arm!’
But Seaton waited, knowing something was wrong. The launch’s engine was too loud.
He gasped, ‘Another boat! Patrol!’
As he spoke he saw a searchlight stab from the darkness and fix the harbour-master’s launch with a great, glacier-like beam. He thought he heard someone yelling through a loud-hailer, and then saw the patrol boat moving across the water at top speed, the stem throwing back a great bow wave as high as her forecastle.
Red tracer ripped from her deck, swept across the escaping launch, surrounding her with leaping feathers of spray. Then the gunners found the range and poured a long volley into the launch, splitting it apart in a torment of broken woodwork and corpses.
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