by Andrew Gross
“All good luck…” Nordstrum gave a cynical chuckle and handed it back to Einar.
“You’re the only trained operative in the area, Kurt. Who else is there? I’ve never pulled a trigger in my life.”
A week? A team of thirty to forty trained commandos might be able to fight their way into the high-concentration room now. Two or three, they’d be cut down before they even got inside. Of course, there was the route back to Germany. There could be many points along the way that were vulnerable. “Do we have any idea how it’s being shipped?”
“That’s all a big secret, as is the exact date. But we both know there is one person inside we can go to who would have to know those things.”
Einar stopped the car in front of the bus stop that headed back to Rjukan. Nordstrum knew precisely whom he meant.
It was Tuesday. Tomorrow was chocolate day.
“I think it’s time to see just how far the good engineer’s loyalties are prepared to go.”
63
In the late afternoon that day, the phone rang at Alf Larsen’s desk at the plant. With all the preparations under way to transfer the heavy water stocks, he’d barely left it in the past two days.
“Chief Larsen…?”
“Who is this?”
“I’m wondering if you are up for a night of bridge? I told you I’d be calling soon if I found the right game. There’s one planned for tonight.”
“Tonight? Tonight, I’ll be working,” the engineer replied, his heart leaping up with nerves. He knew precisely who it was. His Gestapo overseer, Captain Stauber, peered up from his desk across the room.
“This one I strongly advise you to make,” the caller said. “All the best players in town will be there.”
Larsen hesitated as long as he could. Even he didn’t know just how he would answer. Finally he drew in a short breath and asked under his breath, “Where?”
“Usual place. How does eight o’clock sound?”
“Eight o’clock,” Larsen muttered, pretending to scribble it down.
“So can we count on you, Chief Larsen? Seats are filling quickly.”
Larsen gave an eye to the captain and turned a page in his report. “I’ll do my best to be there.”
“Your best, Chief Engineer…?”
“Yes, I’ll be there.” He hung up.
“What was that, Herr Larsen?” Stauber, a short, pasty-faced policeman from Dresden, so chubby he looked out of place in his black Gestapo uniform, looked up from his workstation. “You’re looking a little pale.”
“Just bridge, Herr Major.” The engineer clared his throat, wiping the film of sweat off his forehead.
“Bridge…?” the German questioned.
“Yes, Herr Captain, bridge. Do you play?”
“No, Chief Engineer. I’m afraid I don’t.”
“It is quite a welcome distraction from all the work. You should learn sometime.”
* * *
That evening, Larsen remained at his desk until a quarter of eight, a few minutes after his Gestapo watchdog finally grew so bored or hungry he called it a night. Larsen, checking the time that seemed to move at a snail’s pace at least a dozen times, was not sure, until the very moment he cleaned his desk and packed up his briefcase, what he would do.
He could easily not attend. They had no leverage to make him. Surely that would be the far safer course.
In the end he filed his reports away and slipped a paper from a folder marked PRIVATE BUSINESS into his jacket pocket. He said good-bye to the night manager as he always did, and drove to the Kjellssons’, home of a chemical engineer on his staff, a short distance from the plant, where they held a regular game each Saturday night.
He pulled his Opel up to the stone house, checking that no one had followed, and cut the ignition. He had a throbbing in his chest that said he was crossing a line, his heart readily stepping over, but his body unwilling to move.
That was when the passenger door opened and the man he had met with two weeks before slipped into the seat across from him.
“Sorry to disappoint, Chief Engineer, but I’m afraid tonight’s game has been canceled.”
“You’re playing with fire to contact me that way. You know I’m being watched?”
Nordstrum said, “We’re all being watched these days, Chief Larsen. And yet you are here.”
“I came merely to tell you to back off from contacting me at the office. Security is far too tight.”
“Did you now? I believe you came because you know precisely what it is we need to know from you. The stocks of deuterium oxide are being transferred back to Germany. And I believe you know how? And when?”
Larsen blew out air from his nose and rested his head back on the seat.
“Time is short, Chief Larsen, and there’s no point in misplaced loyalties to people who may well shoot you after it’s gone for as much as you know.”
“Yes.” He finally blew out a breath. “It is leaving. On Saturday, I think.”
“You cannot think, Chief Engineer. We must be sure.”
“On Saturday,” he said again, firmer.
Four days.
“Is there enough of it for them to do the job?” Nordstrum pressed.
“You mean build a weapon?” Larsen looked at him and shrugged. “I’m a chemical engineer,” he said, “not an atomic scientist. You’ll have to ask that question to your friend Tronstad in England. But they have a hundred and fifty-seven canisters of the juice. Some, the highest level of concentration, others in more diluted form, which needs to be further refined. They’ll be moving them from the factory by train in large chemical drums marked POTASH LYE, so as not to attract attention. Then put on the ferry to Tinnoset.”
By train. Heavily guarded no doubt. It would be tough for a small team to destroy it. “Can we get to them beforehand?”
“You mean at the plant?” Larsen shook his head. “Not a chance. That time has passed. Security is way too high. They’ve brought in crack SS units to oversee things, not those misfits like before. Everyone has someone watching them, even me. You can’t even get near the high-concentration room these days without a permit. You’d need an army to get explosives in.”
“Then we need to know the route. You say it will leave by train. Train to where?”
“I told you the last time.…” The chief engineer brushed the hair off his forehead, sweat running down his neck. “I’m not the hero you’re looking for.”
“No one’s looking for a hero, Chief Larsen. Only for someone who is not afraid to stand up and do what needs to be done. The train to where, I asked?”
Larsen took off his glasses and let a long breath escape from his cheeks. He snorted almost wistfully. “You know, all I ever wanted to do was sit behind a desk with my numbers. I like numbers. How things fit together. They’re fixed and patently without an outside agenda. My whole life, only they’ve been my real friends. I never even wanted this job.”
“I’m sorry for how fate puts us where we least intend to be.” Nordstrum waited impatiently.
Larsen remained silent for a while, his eyes focused straight ahead. Then he finally reached into his jacket with a kind of philosophical smile. “I’ll probably be shot for this.…” He handed Nordstrum a paper.
Nordstrum scanned it quickly. It had a swastika on the top, and was marked FOR THE EYES OF RESTRICTED PERSONNEL ONLY. STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL. He only read the first few lines, folded it back up, and handed it back to Larsen.
“Keep it. I made a copy.”
Nordstrum smiled. “You may not yet be a hero,” he put his hand on the chief engineer’s shoulder, “but you’re getting commendably close.”
“Now let me go. Shame, I could use a night of bridge. But we can’t just sit out here all night.”
“Before you do, I’m letting you know, we may still need more.”
“I’ve given you what you need. There is no more.” He looked at Nordstrum testily. “Now it’s up to you to do what you have to.”
> “You more than anyone know the importance of this, should this cargo find its way back to Germany.”
Larsen looked at him, blood exiting his face. He nodded. “I honestly don’t know if I’m capable of doing more.”
“In the end, you may surprise yourself, Chief Larsen. We go as far as we think we can—and when the situation demands it, we go just a bit farther. That’s all it is.”
“Sounds so easy.” The plant engineer sniffed. “Living up to it is another matter. Now please get out. I won’t be any help to anyone if the Nazis find you here.”
Nordstrum cracked open the door. “We’ll be in touch again. You know that, right?”
The chief engineer’s tie was askew, his hair a little moist from sweat, his neck as thin as one of his drafting pencils. As unlikely a man to count on as Nordstrum had ever called upon. “I think you’ve made that abundantly clear.”
Nordstrum folded the paper in his jacket and climbed out of the car. “I’m sorry, but you’re not looking so well, chief engineer.”
“I know. Everyone’s telling me that today.”
64
Once Nordstrum and Einar sent over the content of Larsen’s top-secret memo, it took only three hours for SOE’s reply to come back: The matter has been considered at the highest levels with great consideration of the possibility of reprisals, but it is thought vital that the heavy water should be destroyed in transit. Hope it can be done without too disastrous results. We send our best wishes for success in the attack.
Einar handed Nordstrum the message. Nordstrum chuckled cynically. There was no time to organize a new crew or a raid from the outside. There were no new military options. No support. Only a cheery slap on the back: Best wishes for success in the attack. The fate of the one thing that kept Churchill and Roosevelt awake at night had fallen on the backs of the two of them.
Nordstrum took out his lighter and watched the edge of the paper take the flame. “Four days,” he said. “That’s not much time.”
He never gave a moment’s thought to backing off or turning it down.
And any thoughts he had of Natalie drifted away in the embers.
* * *
Wednesday and Thursday, they met after work. Larsen had agreed to be fully part of it now. SOE ruled that Einar had to sit this one out since he would be the only radio link remaining in the Rjukan area and because of his position at the Mosvatn Dam, which they thought one day might have to be blown. But he was involved in the planning.
In transit. Now that they knew the route—by train from Vemork to Mael, then across the lake by ferry to Tinnoset, then a second train to Nottogen (two trains actually, to keep the real one with the cargo concealed), and finally on to Skien, and across the North Sea by freighter, surely with a naval convoy, to Hamburg—they could try to find a breakdown somewhere. A weak link.
One option was to blow up the transport train en route between Vemork and Rjukan. Larsen mentioned that the train would go past Norsk Hydro’s explosives dump, where 4,500 pounds of dynamite were stored. The dump was generally lightly guarded, but the Germans were taking every precaution on Saturday, Larsen noted, so who knew how many might be assigned to it that day. To ensure the canisters’ destruction, Nordstrum said the explosion would have to come at precisely the moment the heavy water drums were passing by. Which could easily be accomplished, he explained, by a detonator placed on the tracks, but there was always the risk the Germans would send a trial engine down ahead of the train and detonate the charges prematurely.
The more likely option was to attack the train farther along its journey, between Tinnoset and Nottogen. But Nordstrum knew a direct attack like that would have to be done by a team large in number and highly organized. And Larsen said the transport train would also be carrying the plant’s usual cargo of ammonia products, which, if exploded, would pose a serious hazard to the population of Nottogen if it happened too close.
Attacking the ship by air or submarine as it crossed the North Sea was a last resort if all else failed, but there was sure to be a naval convoy protecting it, and anyway, that was completely out of their control.
“There’s still one option we haven’t discussed,” Nordstrum said, when the mood was at its gloomiest.
“And that is…?” Larsen asked.
“Blowing up the ferry once the heavy water is loaded on, and sending it to the bottom of Lake Tinnsjo.”
“The ferry…” Einar reacted with equal parts resistance and interest. “To do that would require sneaking onto it the night before and setting the charges. The morning of, there would be far too much commotion and people about. Not to mention there would be guards, no doubt.”
“Guards can be diverted.” Nordstrum shrugged. “Or silenced. What’s tricky is that it would have to be a time-delayed fuse, as, yes, we’d need to set the charges the night before and ensure it would explode at precisely the right spot. In the middle of the lake, so that the cargo could not be salvaged.”
“Explosives? Fuses? Where would you even get your hands on such materials here?” Larsen stared back in disbelief.
“That’s not the problem,” Nordstrum said. In fact, they had all the explosives they needed; the same adhesive, putty-like plastic that was left from the first raid on Norsk Hydro, which now lay buried on the vidda.
“Here’s another problem. You said the shipment is set for Saturday?” Einar turned to Larsen. “There are always two ferry trips scheduled on Saturdays. With two different boats. We’d have to be sure precisely which one the cargo would be loaded on. And what if that particular ferry spent the night on the Tinnoset side and then crossed over that morning? We wouldn’t be able to get to it.”
“That’s so.” Nordstrum nodded in thought. “But I’m pretty sure there’s only one trip on Sunday. Not to mention a lot fewer civilians on board.” He looked at Larsen. “Do you think you could arrange to delay the shipment another day?”
“Why don’t I just ask Gestapo Chief Muggenthaler? He’s overseeing the transit himself. I’m sure he’d be pleased to accommodate you,” Larsen said.
“Alf.” Nordstrum tried to steady the man.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not exactly cut out for this work,” the engineer said, taking out his handkerchief and wiping a film of sweat off his brow.
“Do you think you could do it, Alf?” Nordstrum asked again.
After some thought, Larsen blew his cheeks out in exasperation, shrugging. “We’re still draining the cells. The finished product must be tested for its concentration level and then placed in the appropriate drums. It’s possible we could slow down the pace. It would be hard for anyone to know it was deliberate. Sunday, you say?”
“That would help immeasurably.” Nordstrum patted the chief engineer on the shoulder.
“You realize what we’re even suggesting…?” Einar pushed back his chair. “Sunday or Saturday, there will still be dozens of civilians onboard. We’re talking about sending the ship to the bottom of the lake. It’s clear many of those people will not survive. We’re talking women and children, Kurt.”
“And if we don’t stop it,” Nordstrum said, “you know better than anyone that tens of thousands of innocent people could die.”
“Yes, but not Norwegian.”
“But still, just as innocent. Einar, look, you know no one wants to spare innocent lives more than me. Perhaps we can rig the explosion so that the boat would sink at a slower pace. Maybe set the charges in the bow, where the rail cars with the heavy water would be situated. Once the hull takes on water, the ship would pitch forward and the rail cars would plunge into the lake. That would leave more time until the boat fully sank. If we time it correctly, it’s over four hundred meters to the bottom. They’ll never be able to bring them back up.”
“Yes, in theory deuterium oxide is heavier than regular water,” Larsen confirmed. “It should definitely sink.”
“It would minimize the casualties. The hard part will be constructing the charges to go off at just the right
moment. We have only short fuses. We’ll need a real timer. Maybe an alarm clock,” Nordstrum said. “Or two.”
“Okay.” Einar nodded. “But we still have to make our way on the night before.”
“You mean my way on,” Nordstrum corrected him. “As per orders, you won’t be anywhere near. But yes, we may need someone to divert the guards. If I have to, I know what to do.”
“You know if this actually takes place,” the color drained from Larsen’s face, “they’re going to know in about one second I must have had a hand in it. Undoubtedly, I’ll be put up against a wall the next day and shot.”
“Yes, that’s certainly a possibility,” Nordstrum said.
“I can see that too,” Einar said, nodding.
The chief engineer stared back wide-eyed. “Thank you both, for such inspiring concern.”
“But you’re right, it won’t be safe here anymore,” Nordstrum agreed. “I’ll be heading to Sweden after it’s done. Can you ski?”
“I’m not exactly a champion, but yes,” the engineer said. “I’ve spent my time in the mountains.”
“Then make sure you pack a bag that night, and make it a small one. You’ll come with me.”
“To Sweden?” Larsen looked out blankly. “I’ve lived my whole life here. I don’t know any place else.”
“And you may well again,” Nordstrum said, “as a hero, if we’re successful. If not, what does it even matter? All will be lost.”
“So it’s agreed then?” Einar looked at both of them. “It’s the ferry. On Sunday … Alf, you’ll look into slowing the transfer of heavy water and pushing it back a day?”
“Sunday.” Larsen nodded. “I’ll get it done. Listen to me, I’m talking like some kind of secret agent.”
“We’ll make one of you yet,” Einar said. “All right, I’ll inform England of our plan.”
“One more thing,” Nordstrum said. “I could use another hand. Preferably someone with a knowledge of explosives. And who knows his way around.”
“You know I’d like to be that person,” Einar said. “But they’ve tied my hands. And in truth, Kurt, I’ve never actually pulled a trigger in my life.”