Enemies and Traitors: The Norsemen's War: Book One - Teigen and Selby (The Hansen Series 1)

by Kris Tualla

  Teigen straightened and dragged his fingers over his bare head. It made his hair stick up, enhancing the halo effect. “But I yelled at her.”

  Selby was stunned. In her experience with men, name calling and yelling were just the beginning. Yet Teigen seemed to believe he had severely transgressed.

  “I would’ve yelled at her, too,” Selby admitted. “She didn’t have any idea what her actions cost you and she needed to know.”

  Teigen rested his hands on his hips pushing aside the open front of his coat. Selby responded by pulling her coat tighter.

  Is the man never cold?

  “She’ll be arrested for treason when the war is over…” His low tone and pained expression displayed the sorrow that knowledge brought him.

  “But not for theft,” Selby reminded him sternly. “You couldn’t save her from her terrible choice to consort with the enemy. But if she pays you back, the theft charges will be dropped.”

  “And if she doesn’t, then I throw her and her parents out of their home,” he reminded her.

  “That’ll be your choice to make at the time.” Selby risked resting a hand on his arm. “You could rent it to them for a kroner a year if you wanted, and only claim it when they die.”

  Teigen stared at her, his chin jutting forward and his eyes wide. Then his gaze dropped to the ground. For a minute he didn’t move or speak before he raised his head and considered her again, now with a furrowed brow.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Selby hesitated. “Doing what?”

  “Coming after me, telling me I was brilliant, talking to me like… I don’t know.”

  Selby felt unexplained tears prick her eyelids. She knew the reason, but she was afraid tell him, to let her wall crack. She couldn’t afford a breech.

  “Selby?” Teigen looked concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  She wiped her cheeks. “Damn it.”

  Teigen looped his arm through hers and started walking toward the tavern with the fårikål. “I’m not disobeying your orders because I’m still in your presence, Lieutenant.”

  Selby couldn’t respond. She was crying in earnest now.

  When they reached the door, Teigen opened it and pushed her inside. Then he led her to a booth in the farthest corner and sat her on the side which put her back to the room.

  “Are you hungry?”

  She shook her head.

  “Aquavit and beer,” he told the barmaid. “Two.”

  Selby felt like a complete idiot, crying for no reason.

  Teigen pushed his coat off his shoulders and leaned his elbows on the table. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  She shook her head and wiped her cheeks. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “To me? Or to anyone?” he parroted her earlier challenge.

  “I don’t know…”

  “Well, since I talked to you when I didn’t want to, I believe it’s your turn now.” He waited for the barmaid to set down their drinks and leave before he continued. “That’s only fair.”

  Not ready to down the aquavit, Selby took a sip of the beer. She hoped it would clear her throat enough that she could speak somewhat normally.

  She raised blurry eyes to his. “It’s not something I ever talk about.”

  Teigen looked surprised. “Even to your friends?”

  Selby made a face. “I don’t have friends.”

  Teigen leaned back and folded his arms. “What about Dahl? Or Bennett?”

  “They’re men.” Obviously.

  “Karolina?”

  Selby laughed a little. “She’s… an actress.”

  “So are you.”

  Selby shook her head. “No. Being an actress is a role I play. Just like the street urchin. Or Nazi girlfriend. It’s not who I am.”

  Teigen’s gaze pinned her. “Who are you, Selby?”

  There was no chance in hell she was going to answer that. Instead, she lifted the shot glass of aquavit to her lips, threw her head back, and let the burning alcohol sear its way to her stomach.

  *****

  Teigen watched Selby gulp her aquavit and follow it with a long swallow of beer. One thing was clear: she was not going to answer the question.

  Time to change the course of the conversation.

  “I’m still a teacher, I think,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone, acting as if she hadn’t definitively ignored his question. “It’s sort of a personality type. Not something you can change about yourself.”

  Selby set her beer down and looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I know what you’re doing.”

  He shrugged. “What?”

  She tilted her head as she looked at him. “I won’t answer your question, so you’re pretending you didn’t ask it.”

  Did she really think that?

  Teigen leaned forward. “No, Selby. I’m not pretending anything.” He smiled a little. “I’m just respecting your reluctance to answer.”

  Teigen straightened and downed his own shot. As he chased it with a sip of the cooled beer, he watched her over the rim of his glass.

  His response seemed to bring her near to tears again. What had happened to her? Teigen wanted to pull her into his arms and protect her from whatever had hurt her.

  She’d scratch my eyes out if I did.

  He bit his lips and wiped his mouth to keep from laughing at the mental image of what that would look like.

  “I’m… not used to… that kind of respect,” she managed finally.

  “Dahl respects you, Selby. I think he’s in love with you.” Not that he knows what to do about it. “Am I wrong?”

  “No.” Selby sighed. “But he walks on eggshells around me and I hate it. That’s not respect. It’s fear.”

  If what Teigen had observed could be trusted, he knew the answer; but he asked anyway.

  “Are you in love with him?”

  She gave him a resigned look. “No. I’ve never been in love with anyone.”

  Teigen gave a little chuckle. “Turns out, neither have I. At least not real, unconditional, I’d-die-for-you love.”

  “Don’t hold your breath waiting, Teig. That doesn’t exist.” Selby closed her eyes and sipped her beer.

  Teigen wondered if that was true. It seemed his parents had that sort of love, but he couldn’t know what went on between them behind closed doors.

  Now he sighed. “You could be right about love.” He pointed a finger at her. “But do I know that friendship exists.”

  “I suppose…” She set down her empty beer glass. “I guess I’ve never taken the time to make friends.”

  “That’s not true,” Teigen stated. “You did tonight.”

  Selby looked surprised. “Tonight?”

  Teigen laughed. “Yeah! You chased after me, Sel. You even ordered me to halt so you could catch up with me.”

  She waved her hand. “I only did that because you wouldn’t stop.”

  “No—you did it so you could tell me that you thought I was brilliant, even after I said I didn’t want to talk to you.” Teigen gave her a satisfied smile. “That’s what friends do.”

  She stared at him and twirled her empty beer glass on the table. “And you brought me in here and took care of me when I fell apart for absolutely no reason.”

  He let the no reason go for now. “I’ve had practice being a friend.”

  Selby’s brow quirked. “I’ve never had a man talk to me the way you have tonight.”

  “And I’ve never had a woman pull rank on me so she could compliment me.” He gulped the last of his beer and set the glass down. “We should go—it’s almost curfew.”

  *****

  Selby didn’t feel like talking as Teigen held her elbow and steadied her on the slippery walk back to the hotel. So much happened that surprised her tonight that she really needed to think about how those things made her feel.

  Some of it was shaking her long-held convictions about men. Well, about one man. Teigen Hansen was definitely unique.

  Inside t
he lobby, Teigen let go of her arm and walked beside her to the foot of the stairs. “Thanks for… you know.”

  Was he blushing? Or were his cheeks just red from the cold?

  “Thank you, too.” Selby stuck out her hand on impulse.

  Bemused, Teigen took it.

  Selby shook his hand. “Friends shake hands, right?”

  Teigen grinned. “Yep.”

  Shelby dropped his hand, turned and climbed the stairs. She couldn’t stop smiling.

  February 19, 1943

  Oslo, Norway

  Dahl found Teigen touching up the paint on a worn scenery flat. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Okay.” Teigen stuck his paintbrush into a jar of turpentine. His first unlikely thought was that this conversation was going to be about Selby.

  Then he saw the letter in Dahl’s hand. “What’s going on?”

  Dahl gave him a crooked grin. “You’re going to love this. Let’s go in the front of the house to talk.”

  Teigen followed Dahl halfway into the audience seats. The men sat one chair apart and faced each other.

  Dahl handed Teigen the letter. “Read this.”

  A master carpenter in Ålesund has begun building desks with a small space in the back which is intended for a bomb. His plan is that the desks will be delivered to the Nazi SS offices when Milorg knows there are few Norwegians in the building.

  When the SS officer opens the front drawer it will trigger a bomb which explodes when he closes it again.

  I seem to recall that Sergeant Hansen was a chemistry teacher. Ask him to start working on a bomb that fits this plan immediately. I want to see something when you return.

  Major Hans Helgesen

  Bergen

  Teigen looked up at Dahl, surprised that the common joke was becoming a reality. “I’m really going to build bombs?”

  “Can you?” Dahl asked. “I mean, can you make bombs that fit that scenario?”

  “I’ll sure try, won’t I!” Teigen’s mind was already working. “There has to be a detonator, and the explosive material. But it has to be stable enough to be jostled around when the desk is moved…”

  “Maybe when the drawer opens, it pulls the pin from a grenade,” Dahl suggested.

  Teigen looked at him, surprised. His mind went straight to the heavily guarded crates of ammunition that he unloaded at the docks in Kirkenes. “Can we get hold of grenades?”

  Dahl’s mouth twisted. “No, not easily.”

  Teigen nodded and handed the letter back to Dahl. “You’ll destroy that, right?”

  “Yep.” Dahl stood. “I’ll leave this to you, then. Let me know if you need anything.”

  Teigen stood as well. “When I finish the flat, I need to go out for an hour or so. To start working on this before we leave Oslo.”

  “Okay…” Dahl raised his brows in silent question.

  “I have sources here. Trustworthy ones.” Teigen winked. “I need to pick their brains while I can.”

  *****

  “Oh, this is going to be fun.” Dierks Halle, Teigen’s physics teacher friend rubbed his hands together. “Blowing up SS assholes is a dream come true.”

  “The first problem is I don’t know how big the compartment is,” Teigen said. “And the second is that the bomb needs to be powerful enough to kill the man and destroy at least ten feet around him.”

  Dierks nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. You don’t want to leave clues. I got it.”

  Teigen sat on the edge of Dierks’ desk, pencil and paper in hand. “So, ideas?”

  “Does it have to blow up when he closes the drawer? Or can it blow when he opens it?”

  Teigen thought about that. “Good question. I don’t think it would matter.”

  Dierks stroked his chin. “So the detonator could be something like a regular cigarette lighter where the flint gets struck when the desk is opened…”

  “Or a piston that mixes something when the drawer opens, and it explodes when it’s compressed.” Teigen wrote both ideas down. “The key is we have to use materials that don’t rouse suspicion when we collect them.”

  “Gunpowder is easy to make. It’s just sulfur, charcoal, and potassium nitrate—saltpeter,” Dierks said.

  “Yeah. I just hope I don’t have to go digging around manure piles for it.” Teigen tapped the pencil against his chin. “If you mix glycerin with potassium permanganate it’ll catch fire after a few minutes.”

  “Engineer the bomb so they get mixed when the drawer opens, then they ignite the gunpowder when they flame up.”

  “That could work.” Teigen wrote it down. “What else?”

  “Dry aluminum powder and dry powdered iodine?” Dierks suggested.

  Teigen shook his head. “There’s too much smoke before they flame. It’d be a warning.”

  “True…”

  “What about hydrogen peroxide and potassium iodide?” Teigen mused. “That produces heat, plus a huge amount of oxygen which is highly flammable.”

  Dierks shook his head. “The oxygen is too hard to contain.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Teigen looked at the clock. “I need to get back to the theater. At least I have a start.”

  He folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket. “Why don’t you come to the play?”

  Dierks wrinkled his nose. “Not one for Shakespeare. But thanks.”

  Teigen put his coat on. “Are you interested in helping me make some explosions?”

  Dierks’ eyes lit up like detonators. “You bet I am!”

  Chapter

  Twenty Three

  February 25, 1943

  Oslo, Norway

  Teigen watched the explosion from behind a rock. When the experimental bomb exploded, Dierks slapped him on the back.

  “I think we’ve got it,” he said. “Two viable options.”

  Teigen walked toward the scorched earth to measure the circumference of the snow circle, encouraged by their long day of trial and error. Today was the troupe’s last day in Oslo so Teigen had hurried to collect the supplies they needed. He wanted to make use of Dierks’ knowledge while he could.

  Dierks had a car, so he drove them ten miles outside of Oslo into the surrounding mountains.

  The men, both scientists, tried a few different combinations and machinations, along with meticulously measuring and logging the amount of the ingredients to control the size of the blast.

  “So option one is immediate: rig up a cigarette lighter so the flint sparks when the drawer is opened,” Teigen clarified. “And that ignites the pouch of gunpowder.”

  “Yep. You could also have the drawer depress it when it’s closing instead.” Dierks shrugged. “Depending on how the desk is actually constructed.”

  Teigen handed Dierks one end of the measuring tape. “Don’t look around, but we’re being watched,” he whispered.

  Dierks’ eyes widened. “Germans?”

  Teigen shook his head and spoke in a normal tone as he turned and walked to the edge of the blackened ground. “I’m guessing twelve feet.”

  He squatted there and glanced around, searching for more of the movement that had caught his eye.

  “Close! It’s thirteen.” Dierks walked back toward him, his face pale. “What do you want to do now?”

  Teigen stood. A flash of dingy blue appeared beside their pile of equipment about thirty yards away and quickly disappeared.

  “We need at least one more try with the glycerin and potassium permanganate.” Teigen turned and took long strides toward their stash with Dierks hurrying to keep up. “I need to time the lag between the glycerin hitting the mixture and the actual flame.”

  “Are we safe?” Dierks murmured.

  Teigen hoped his friend would understand his answer. “We’re safe as two men can be when they play with explosives.” In other words, there was no external threat.

  “Got it.”

  Dierks filled a tiny flask with glycerin and topped it with a cork into which they had fastened a tiny eye screw attache
d to a thin wire. Then he clamped the flask to a block of wood at a forty-five degree angle.

  Teigen held a pre-filled fabric pouch of gunpowder and a tin lid with the potassium permanganate. “We’ll use the same spot.”

  So I can keep an eye on our intruder.

  It was hard to determine where there were new tracks in the snow since Teigen and Dierks had stomped around the area all day and even made a couple trips into the woods to pee. But as the pair walked away from the jumble of supplies, Teigen whispered, “My lunch sack is gone.”

  Dierks shot him a side glance but said nothing.

  The men set up the bomb in the center of the blackened circle. Then they backed away about twenty feet and crouched behind a tree.

  “We can see our camp better from here,” Teigen explained when Dierks looked surprised that they weren’t going back behind the rock.

  Dierks held up his watch. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Teigen called out, “Three. Two. One.”

  He pulled in the wire, uncorking the glycerin which poured over the potassium. Then he sprang to his feet and bolted after the flash of blue reappeared.

  Teigen reached their supplies before he heard the explosion behind him. The intruder was about twenty-five yards ahead of him, scrambling through the woods.

  At this point, Teigen only needed to follow the fresh tracks in the snow. And judging by the length of their strides, Teigen had a definite advantage over the thief.

  “Hey!” he shouted. “I’m not going to hurt you!”

  The fugitive apparently didn’t believe him because he continued to flee.

  “I’m going to catch you!” Teigen forced the words past his gulping breaths—they were running uphill. “Just stop!”

  The figure stumbled then and fell flat out. Teigen reached the spot before the flailing escapee could regain footing and he tackled the blue-clad frame.

  “Let me go!” cried an adolescent male voice.

  Teigen was shocked at the thin, bony body in his grip and understanding flooded his mind. “You can have the food,” he said. “I don’t care! Just calm down.”