by Andrew Gross
An hour later, Einar stopped the car and looked at Nordstrum with a cast of concern. “There is no way you can tell her, Kurt.”
On the short drive back to Diseth’s with the car they’d managed to procure, an old Volvo sedan with a stubborn engine, Nordstrum shared with his friend what was in his heart. He’d been sullen since leaving Natalie so abruptly an hour ago, knowing he was putting her life at risk. Einar had seen that something was clearly troubling him.
“You know that, don’t you? Her grandfather is a guest of the Nazis. There is no telling where his loyalties lie. Or hers, for that matter. You may trust her, but do you know, for sure? And do you entirely trust him?”
“I trust that I do not believe she would betray me, Einar.”
“Maybe so. But would she understand? Without telling her everything behind it. A few days ago she may have been a card-carrying Nazi for all you know. Diseth has a friend too, who’s scheduled to be on the ferry. He asked me whether he could warn him and I told him no. He can’t. He vouched for his friend as well, but the problem isn’t simply that friend, it’s who knows what friends he might tell, and then those people.… If word gets out, where does it go from there?”
“I understand all that, Einar. As long as you understand I may well be sending her to her death.”
“You’re not sending her, Kurt. Life is sending her. And even if you are…?” The engine was running and a man with a cart of fish wobbled by. “Look, I see you have feelings for her. And I know you’ve been wounded in your heart a long time. But hers is only one life. One life measured against thousands. Possibly hundreds of thousands. I know what it is you’re feeling. I have people I love too. And I don’t know what I would do, if it was Marte, or her sister. But I do know what you would tell me. Which is exactly what I’m saying to you. You simply cannot jeopardize this for a person you may never see again. Who you’ve only known for what, two days…?”
Nordstrum let a long blast of air out of his nostrils. It didn’t seem like there was any more to say. He knew Einar was right. There was no telling how Natalie or her grandfather would react. And even if she kept his secret, there was no guarantee her grandfather would as well. Or how she might react to having to be part of a secret that would likely result in the loss of dozens of lives.
Still, he felt he loved her.
Yes, he’d had to do the hard thing many times. It had cost him Anna-Lisette. And his father, who had been rounded up by this Lund simply because of the path Nordstrum himself had taken. And even Hella. He’d grown used to it.
Reluctantly, he gave his friend a nod.
It was dark now. They continued on in the car and pulled to a stop in front of Diseth’s shop. He was a soldier. Those were the choices he had had to make. It was war and he had let a random person dig her way inside him. He knew it was foolish. Afterward, there would always be time for life. But for now …
They sat for a moment.
For now, he had to forget they’d ever met.
“There are lifeboats, Kurt.” Einar looked at him. “People will come from the shore. You calculated that in how you prepared the charges. I only mean to say there’s hope. You’re not just putting her up against a wall like the Nazis did Anna-Lisette. Besides…” Einar opened the driver’s door and cast his friend a smile, “you probably won’t survive planting the explosives anyway.”
Nordstrum gave him a laugh back. “You’re right. I told her to sit in the stern. That the view was best there.”
“Then you’ve done what you can. The rest is just war, Kurt. It’s in God’s hands. Not ours.”
“God hasn’t always been so kind to me,” Nordstrum said, bringing Anna-Lisette and his father to mind.
“Well, he’s kept you alive, hasn’t he?” Einar looked at his watch. “Now let’s relax. It’s five fifteen. You have only a few hours to prepare. And I, I’m afraid, have to catch the six-thirty train to Oslo for my aching appendix. Trust me, I wish I could stay with you.”
Nordstrum nodded. “I feel better knowing you’re far away. Marte too.”
“Thanks.” Einar squeezed his shoulder. “I wish you luck, my friend.” He put out his hand. “We’ve said that many times now.”
“Yes, we have. I wish you luck too,” Nordstrum said. “And whatever you do, remember, make sure you watch what the hell you say when they put you under anesthesia.”
* * *
Larsen arrived around 9 P.M. with his rucksack and his skis. He seemed a wreck. “I had to sneak out into the woods behind my house,” he said. “They’ve put a car in front.”
“Are you sure you weren’t followed?” Nordstrum pressed.
“As far as they’re concerned I’m soundly asleep after being up all last night loading the rail cars. But what I do regret is I’m missing my bridge evening. I haven’t missed my Saturday night bridge game in over three years.”
“I’m afraid they’re going to have to find a new fourth,” Nordstrum said.
“Yes. And bridge players are not so easy to come by here in Rjukan.”
They wrapped the explosives in a burlap blanket and stuffed the detonators and clock in a small bag. They took a Sten, two Colt pistols, and a couple of grenades. The sight of the weapons made Larsen look almost sickly, as if the life-and-death stakes of what they were doing finally kicked in. They went outside to the car. It was a ten-year-old Volvo and the engine coughed and coughed before it finally started up, making them concerned for a moment they wouldn’t be going anywhere.
“God, I’d forgotten just how cold it was up here,” Gutterson said in the backseat. The temperature read minus thirty centigrade.
“Happy to make you feel right at home.” Nordstrum looked at Ox, Gutterson, and Larsen. “Ready?”
“As we’ll ever be,” Ox grunted.
“Like old times, huh, Yank?” Nordstrum elbowed his friend.
“Aye.” Gutterson shoved his Sten beneath his parka. “Old times.”
Before he climbed in, Nordstrum excused himself and went up to the toilet above Diseth’s shop. With the door shut he dug through his ID case and took out Natalie’s card. N. Ritter. Konigstrasse 17. It still carried her scent on it. If we were lucky to meet in Vienna … Even if she survived tomorrow, she would always know it was he who brought down the ship. Who had kept this from her and almost sent her to her death. Or her grandfather. Would he even survive?
Promise me you’ll sit in the stern.…
She would never understand.
Sadness stabbing at him, he tried to harden himself. He tore the card into several pieces and dropped them from his fingers into the basin, like dried petals falling out of a book. Then he flushed the drain.
In another time …
And as Einar had said, he quickly reminded himself, it was unlikely he would even survive the night.
72
They left just before midnight, and were able to drive past the train station in the center of Mael, where twenty or thirty soldiers milled about, to a spot on the road above the wharf, within three quarters of a mile of the ferry station. The streets were completely empty this time of night; there were no lights, except theirs, but amazingly, they were not stopped. They left the car on a small rise above the dock, behind a snowdrift to hide it from view.
They told Larsen to wait for them there.
“Two hours,” Nordstrum instructed him. “If we’re not back by then, leave. Drive the car to Kongsberg and take the early train to Oslo. Put this in your pocket. It’s the name of a contact there. If you hear gunfire, the same arrangements apply. Don’t wait for us in either circumstance, do you understand?”
Larsen nervously wiped the film off his glasses and nodded. “Yes, two hours.”
“Here.” Nordstrum took out a gun and handed it to him.
The engineer took it like it was something he had never seen before. “What do I do with that?”
“Point it at someone in a gray uniform if they give you any trouble and squeeze the trigger,” Nordstrum said.
La
rsen held it in his palm like a glove two sizes too large for him. “I don’t know if I can.”
“For your own sake, you’d better. Now, are we all set?” Nordstrum turned to Gutterson and Ox.
The American had the satchel of weapons and the detonators. Nordstrum took the plastic explosives wrapped in burlap and tucked the package underneath his parka.
“All set.”
Nordstrum said to Ox, “If there are any guards on the dock, make your way down the road a bit and let off a blast from your tommy. That will draw them. Then get the hell out of there. We’ll go it alone.”
“Okay, but I would hate to leave you.” The big man nodded dutifully.
“That’s the best job you can do for us. Remember,” Nordstrum turned to Larsen again, “two hours, Alf. Not a minute more. If we’re not back, go.”
“Just get back.” Larsen exhaled. He checked his wristwatch with a nod.
It was now a quarter to one.
* * *
They made their way to the end of the road, a fifteen-minute walk in the moonless night, then wound through the snow and brush down a small embankment to within sight of the ferry.
Nordstrum’s heart picked up.
The Hydro rested calmly at the end of the long dock, a few dim lights coming from inside. There was an armored car and a wooden restraining barrier set up at the foot of the long dock about a hundred meters away. Five or six guards were posted, who didn’t seem overly concerned. Another two, in long wool coats, rifles on their shoulders, could be seen patrolling up and back along the dock.
It was bitterly cold as Nordstrum, Ox, and Gutterson crept down from the embankment, the ice cracking and popping like champagne corks under their feet, so loudly it sounded like an entire company of men were approaching. Nordstrum held his breath. There was a wire fence separating them from the dock. They took cover behind a large bush.
There was no one to be seen on the ferry, no guard or watchman. Just lights coming from below.
“I’ll go first,” Nordstrum said, stuffing his Colt in his belt. “If it’s clear, I’ll wave you both across. Watch for my signal. If they spot me, wait until they come up to get me and then come take care of them,” he said to Gutterson, who nodded back. “Quietly, if possible, Yank.” Nordstrum winked.
The American patted the knife in his belt. “I’ll be there.”
Yards away, they could hear the boot steps of the closest guard patrolling the wooden deck. A minute later he turned and went back the other way.
Nordstrum said to Ox, “If they don’t give us some distance, go back up the hill like I said and let out a short burst with your tommy. That should distract them. Then get the hell out of there.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry. The Yank and I will go on alone.”
“If I have to,” Ox said. “But you’re robbing me of all the fun.”
The three of them crouched there until the guard was all the way back at the foot of the wharf and stopped to chat with his comrades near the barrier. He remained there long enough that the second guard turned and started his way back, facing away from Nordstrum and his crew. They waited until the guard was about forty meters away.
“See you on board,” Nordstrum said, with a thumbs-up to Gutterson and Ox. With the tube of plastic explosives under the burlap wrapped around his neck, Nordstrum came out of the bushes and made his way over the fence. Taking a quick look down the dock, he sprinted in a crouch across the dock to the gangway.
He slipped quietly onto the ferry without being seen.
He didn’t see any sign of a guard or a watchman on board, but there were loud voices coming from the forward compartments.
It sounded like a card game.
He waited, as the guard heading down the dock had turned and began to make his way back up the wharf in their direction. Gutterson and Ox kneeled across from him in the brush. About a third of the way toward them, a military vehicle pulled up at the foot of the dock near the barricades. Perhaps an officer checking the final arrangements. The patrolling guard was called over. As soon as he reached them, Nordstrum waved Gutterson and Ox across. In a crouch, they both climbed over the fence, Ox struggling to make it over. Then they darted across to the gangway, as close to a scamper as Ox was able to pull off. In his fur jacket he looked like a large bear.
They snuck onto the boat.
“There are people on board.” Nordstrum pointed below, raising his index finger to his lips for them to be quiet. They heard shouting and cursing coming from the forward compartments. Twenty minutes had elapsed since they’d left Larsen in the car. Nordstrum signaled toward the bow. “Let’s go.”
With as little noise as possible they went inside, snaked past the open door that led to the crew’s galley, where what looked to be four or five men sitting around a table were engrossed at cards. Silently they made their way down the stairs to the third-class compartments. Nordstrum had scouted the ship just three days before. On the lower level, he found the airtight hatchway that led to the bilge, which he had judged to be the perfect place to plant the charges.
“Quick. In here.”
They went to undo the hatch.
That was when they heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.
Ox and Gutterson put themselves against the wall and instinctively reached beneath their parkas for their weapons. A man came down the steps. He was large, with wiry, dark hair, a crew’s cap, and a thick mustache. He looked at them with suspicion. “What are you people doing down here?” He eyed their hands underneath their parkas as if he had some idea what was there.
“Relax, friend,” Ox spoke up. “We mean no harm. It’s just that the fucking Hirden are on my friends’ tails. A matter of some forged ration cards, if you know what I mean. They just need a place to hide out a few minutes. Until it passes over. You know these bastards, they never call it a night. We thought we’d find somewhere suitable down here.”
“Hide, you say?” The crewman looked at them questioningly.
“Just until things pass over. Any trouble, you can go back up and say you never even knew they were here. In the name of the king, we beg you.”
“The king? You’re Jossings, then?” the watchman said. Good Norwegians.
They stood there for a moment, not sure what would happen next: if the man was going to agree to Ox’s request or blow the whistle and turn them in.
“Yes, Jossings,” Ox said. Nordstrum reached inside and wrapped his fingers around the knife he had hidden there.
“Well, there are places.” The watchman finally relaxed. “You wouldn’t be the first who needed to escape those bastards. Or had a piece of contraband that needed to be on the other side.”
With palpable relief, Nordstrum and Gutterson took their hands from underneath their parkas.
“Go right ahead.” He opened the hatch for the bilge pumps, just as they had hoped. “In there. That should be fine. But don’t make a night of it. I’ll come back in twenty minutes and it’s best that the three of you were gone.”
“We will be,” Ox assured the man. “Thanks.”
“Yes, thanks, friend,” Nordstrom and Gutterson agreed.
“And there’s water up to your knees, so watch yourselves,” the watchman added. “Never know what you’ll find in there. But the good news is, no one else will want to go in and find out, even if they come aboard.”
“That’s great. Twenty minutes, and we’ll be gone.”
“I’ll keep a watch out for them on deck, if it’s okay,” Ox said, with an eye to Nordstrom.
Nordstrum nodded. “Yes, that might be best.”
The man went back upstairs and Nordstrum and Gutterson crawled inside the hatch. Ox remained outside and went back upstairs to keep an eye out for any Germans and keep the watchman occupied.
Inside, the oily water was indeed up to Nordstrum’s and Gutterson’s knees. It was completely dark and, making sure the fuses and the explosives remained dry, they edged their way f
orward in the smelly tide. Who knew what had made its way into the bilge? The chamber was so low, there were only about four feet from the water to the compartment’s roof and they had to keep the explosives and the fuses above it.
“Quickly, Eric. Over here.”
They made their way to the front of the bow. An explosion here should rip open the boat’s exterior. It was after 2 A.M. They opened their bags and began their work.
Time was of the essence now.
* * *
In the Volvo, Larsen was beginning to sweat. An hour had elapsed. He was an engineer, a scientist. Not someone trained for these situations. He looked at the gun on the seat next to him. Gingerly, he wrapped his hand around the handle. What if he had to use it? What if Nordstrum, Gutterson, and Ox never came back? He’d have to steel his nerves and do what Nordstrum had instructed. He prayed he had made the right decision. If he hadn’t let his guard down, if he hadn’t been so open to their recruitment, he could be playing bridge at Kjellsson’s right now.
He looked at his watch again. An hour and five minutes now.
One way or another, he knew he would never be playing bridge with them again.
Then from down the street, he heard voices. Larsen’s heart stopped. Who would be out and about now, other than…? Confirming his alarm, two soldiers came into view. Heading down the street. Toward him. If they found him there with a gun he was sure to be interrogated. Show some nerve, Alf, please. He pulled the Colt to his side. His car lights were off. He was hidden behind the large mound of frozen snow. The two Germans carried lanterns. They were checking the street.
Larsen’s blood froze. He could hear their voices growing louder now. He took the gun, not knowing what to do. Would he shoot? Then what, put the car in gear and run off, as Nordstrum had insisted? To where? And what if they came out soon, expecting to see him here? He looked at the gun again. He felt his breaths start to get tight. No, he knew he wouldn’t use it. It wasn’t him. He’d never pulled a trigger in his life. He would sit here in the dark and pray they didn’t see him. The soldiers’ voices grew louder as they approached him. He would wait for them to find him and then try to explain himself. Why the chief engineer of Norsk Hydro was sitting in a car above the boat on which the shipment of heavy water was planned to be shipped. He had come here to kill himself, he would say. Yes, that might make sense. But with an American gun? Where would he have gotten it? Larsen thought of rolling down the window and tossing it into the snow. But he was too scared it would hit the ground, not the snow, and they’d hear.