The Saboteur

by Andrew Gross

  Was it time to finally take his pill?

  But nothing came. He stood there waiting for the worst. Even if they did apprehend him, it was too late to stop it. The ferry was chugging across the lake, its engines building up to cruising speed. Nordstrum decided he would have to avoid the man at all costs. He checked his watch. Twenty minutes to go. He pulled his cap farther down over his eyes, racking his brain for what to do. He would not be captured. That he swore. Not before warning Natalie. That was why he was here. But he had to stay concealed. Lund had a dozen Hirden onboard—and no less than forty Germans. What if his presence made them suspicious and they directed the Hydro back to the dock? The charges would go off, but the ship would not sink in the shallow water. The heavy water would not be destroyed. And Natalie and her grandfather would still be on board.

  No, the only answer was to continue the journey. He had to stay out of sight and delay as long as possible.

  Then again, if Lund hadn’t spotted him, the best thing was to remain in the crowd until a few minutes before the explosion. Showing himself to Natalie too soon would only attract attention, for he would have to explain why he was here and what was going on, which would surely start a panic.

  Nordstrum took out a cigarette and lit it in the wind.

  So if he had been spotted, why had they not arrested him? The answer, as he ratcheted through the possibilities, had to be because Lund wanted to see if Nordstrum was part of some larger plot. If he had friends onboard who had something planned. The most logical time to attack would be at their arrival in Tinnoset. Even Lund would not assume they had snuck aboard during the night and charges were set. If so, why would he, Nordstrum, be back on board? Therefore he had to assume that every move he made now would be under observation. And he would have to make his escape in the confusion after the bomb exploded.

  Calmly, he took a drag off his cigarette and cast a quick glance up toward the top deck.

  Lund had disappeared.

  78

  Nordstrum’s chest grew tight. Was this a good or bad sign? Perhaps they were on the way to arrest him now.

  He glanced at his watch. Eighteen minutes.

  He opened his ski jacket and loosened his gun inside. If it was Lund who came for him he would make sure he at least evened the score. He took a look at the mountains. The blue of the lake cast an opalescent brilliance against them. They were a beautiful sight. Not the worst way, if it ended here, he managed a smile, for him to go out. But there was still work to be done. He had risked it all for one purpose, so he flicked his cigarette into the Tinnsjo and edged his way through the throng of those who were still on deck. Many had now begun to head inside to their respective quarters. No one intercepted him. Perhaps he was in luck; he hadn’t been spotted after all. He went to the first-class lounge.

  “Ticket, please.” An attendant in a navy crew uniform came up to him with a suspicious look at Nordstrum’s attire.

  Nordstrum showed him his slip.

  “I’m sorry, sir, this is third class. Your lounge is downstairs. You’re not permitted in here.”

  “I’m only looking for someone,” Nordstrum assured him. He peered through the glass door windows. “Herr and Fraulein Ritter? An old man and his granddaughter.”

  “Ritter…? Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to look below,” the attendant said. “That’s the way it is. Or out on deck. I don’t think they’re in here.”

  “All right. Thanks.” Nordstrum couldn’t make them out inside the lounge. Sit in the stern. He hoped she had listened to him.

  Fifteen minutes now. Still too soon.

  The Hydro was now streaming along at ten knots.

  He ducked inside the men’s toilet and locked the door. He would wait inside until 10:35, he decided. Then he would find Natalie on deck. He knew they were onboard. He pulled up his sweater and checked his Colt. He decided he was prepared to die, if that’s what was in store; he had certainly been lucky to get this far. But to die onboard without seeing Natalie…? Without alerting her? That would break his heart. Think with your head, Einar had warned him, not that silly heart you seem to be growing. What a laugh he would have now. Today Einar would check in to the hospital, grasping his side. Wouldn’t it be funny, Nordstrum felt himself grin, if the doctor opened him up tomorrow and said, “I don’t know what the problem is, sir. You don’t even have an appendix!”

  Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

  “Yes. In a minute.” Nordstrum ran the water.

  It could be Lund with a gun on the other side.

  If so, this was the way it would be. Did he have any better hope when he crawled through that drain duct to get to the high-concentration room at Vemork? He turned off the water, put a hand under his sweater around his gun, and flicked the lock.

  He said a prayer to his father and mother as he opened the door.

  A man and his young son were standing there. “Sorry, emergency,” the man said.

  “Of course.” Nordstrum smiled at the child. “I understand.”

  There were now eleven minutes to go until the charges were set to blow. Then pandemonium would reign across the ship. Nordstrum made his way back on deck. He looked around. He didn’t see any sign of Lund or any of the Hirden, though he definitely had the feeling he was being watched. The ferry had now reached full speed, around thirteen knots, and was approaching the center of the lake, its two coal-fired engines chugging and chugging. On each side, the shore was less than a mile away, hopefully close enough for help to reach them. He walked toward the rear on the main deck. A few of the stouter souls were braving the breeze on deck. In the sun, and protected from the wind by the top deck and wheelhouse, he saw Natalie and her grandfather on the benches, just as he had urged her to be. She sat bundled up in her purple wool wrap, a scarf around her hair. No hat this time. It made him smile.

  It was 10:38. Seven minutes. He took a last look around. A lifeboat station was positioned directly across from them.

  Now was the time.

  He went up and sat himself in the vacant chair next to her. “Natalie, don’t be alarmed.”

  “Knut?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “I mean, Kurt. What are you doing here? You said you had to be in—”

  “Natalie, please, you and your grandfather must listen to me carefully.” Nordstrum moved closer and spoke in a voice that was low, but direct, careful not to be overheard and start a panic. “You must remain by this lifeboat. In a minute or two there will be an explosion. I’ve come onboard to help you.”

  “An explosion?” She looked at him, disbelief written on her face. “What are you talking about, Kurt?”

  “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you remain precisely here. In a couple of minutes the ship will dramatically pitch forward.”

  “Pitch forward?” She stared at him, a mix of consternation and rising horror in her eyes. “How do you possibly know this? You…? You are responsible for this? You put a bomb onboard? Why…? Look around, people are going to be—”

  “I know precisely what’s going to happen, Natalie.” He put his hand on her arm with a quick glance at his watch. “All that matters is when I give you the signal, you and your grandfather both hold on as tightly as you can to the seats in front of you. I’ll help you to the boat. With any luck—”

  “With any luck, what?” She cut him off. Her look sliced to his heart. “We must warn everyone. Who are you, Kurt…?”

  “Natalie—”

  Suddenly he heard his name shouted from behind. “Nordstrum!”

  It was Lund.

  He looked at Natalie with a mixture of inevitability and regret and opened his jacket, placing his hand around his Colt. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I only meant the best for you.”

  “My God!” Her eyes widened as she saw the gun.

  He lifted his other hand from her and stood up.

  The Hirden captain had his gun pointed at him from across the deck. A few people gasped. “Kurt Nordstrum. Nice to finally see you a
gain. You must know I’ve looked forward to this moment for a long time. Since I first knew that you had come back. I believe I owe you something, for the death of Lieutenant Oleg Rand, a true patriot. Move away from Fraulein Ritter, if you please. I’m sure you wish her no harm. And don’t do anything foolish. Put your hands in the air.”

  He did take a step away, out of the row of seats to near the gunwales. But he kept his hands by his sides.

  “Why are you on this boat?” Lund kept his gun extended, stepping forward. “Something is planned, I know. Tell me what is going on. Tell me now, or you’ll be with your father sooner than you think.”

  “He says there’s some kind of bomb on board.” August Ritter stood up. “He says it will explode. Any minute.”

  “Papa, no, be quiet!” Natalie stood up as well.

  “A bomb!” Lund’s face went ashen.

  “It’s too late,” Nordstrum said to him. He gave a final glance to his watch. “Your precious cargo…” He smiled. “In a minute it will be at the bottom of the lake. There’s nothing you can do.”

  Lund took out his whistle and blew four sharp peals of alarm. Gasps could be heard from the passengers nearby. Two of his fellow Hirden ran toward him.

  “Natalie, hold tightly to your grandfather,” Nordstrum said to her. His watch read 10:45. “Now.” He lunged to grab hold of her.

  Lund, believing his prey was trying to escape, squeezed off two rounds.

  Just as the explosion rocked the ship.

  It was muffled, more like a rumble from below. Toward the bow. But like an earthquake, it sent a ripple from fore to aft. The boat pitched forward with a violent wave. People were hurled about—one falling with a shout from the top deck into the icy water, others flung across the floorboards or into the walls. Or into the lake as well. The ship came to a sudden stop. There was shouting everywhere: wails of anguish, panic. People lunging to grasp hold of their loved ones. One of the Hirden was pitched into the water. The other, Nordstrum took care of with a blow to the body and a forearm to the side of his head.

  Lund fell back against the gunwales, a crate toppling from the top deck and pinning him, likely snapping a leg, his gun slipping out of his hand.

  Nordstrum took hold of Natalie, who yelled for her grandfather. The old man had fallen; he’d hit his head against the seats in front of him. He was dazed, but he seemed all right.

  Pandemonium was everywhere. Alarms, horns, passengers screaming names. “Claus, where are you?” The ferry listed forward. “Inge, Inge, are you all right?” Several of the troops guarding the heavy water drums were either tossed into the freezing lake or crushed by the weight of the shifting rail cars.

  “Wait over here.” Nordstrum took Natalie by the hand and helped her and her grandfather to the lifeboat station across the deck. He put their hands on the railing. “Hold on. I promise I’ll be back.”

  Then with a grinding, metallic roar that sounded more like solid metal being sheared apart, the two open rail cars carrying the heavy water drums broke free from their hooks and chains and crashed through the loading door, teetering over the front of the ship. One by one, the drums marked POTASH LYE—but which contained the most valuable cargo of the German war machine—toppled into the lake, soldiers who were still on the platform trying futilely to save them. Screaming, many were dragged into the water with them. A moment later, with a loud groan, the pitch of the ship increased a bit more now that the now-empty rail cars were gone, dragging the soldiers who only a minute before had stood guard over them so ceremoniously into the water screaming for their lives or crushing them under their weight.

  A surge of validation soared through Nordstrum.

  It was done.

  The cargo was destroyed.

  He ran across the deck to Lund, who was grabbing his leg, still stunned, but who had freed himself from under the crates that had fallen on him. He was on the wet, tilting deck clawing after his gun as it kept sliding away from him, farther and farther out of his grasp.

  As he lunged for it, Nordstrum put his boot on Lund’s grasping hand.

  The Hird turned onto his back and looked up at him. Nordstrum noticed blood dripping onto the deck and for the first time felt a throbbing in his side. Lund’s eyes traveled to Nordstrum’s sweater.

  The Hird smiled. “You’re hit,” he said, his eyes brightening at the sight.

  Under Nordstrum’s jacket, visible against his sweater, a pool of blood matted his side.

  Lund met Nordstrum’s gaze with an amused laugh. “It looks like you won’t be going any farther than me. I owed you. For the death of Lieutenant Oleg Rand. On this very journey, it occurs to me.”

  “Yes, you did owe me.” Nordstrum knelt down over him. He removed his gun from his belt. “And I owe you, for the death of Alois Nordstrum. My father.” He pulled back the hammer and placed the muzzle against Lund’s heart. “And for a hundred other Norwegians who will never have the chance.”

  In the chaos of the sinking ship, no one even heard the two quick shots that ended the Hird’s life.

  The ship was going down. Quickly. Along the sides, lifeboats were being lowered into the water. The more able were jumping into the lake and swimming to them, while those already inside pulled them aboard.

  Nordstrum ran back to Natalie and her grandfather. A crewman was loading up the lifeboat. “Here, help them in,” he said.

  “In here, ma’am.” The crewman reached for Natalie. He helped her aboard. Then they both tried to assist her grandfather into the lifeboat.

  “Wait,” he suddenly cried out, “my cello. It’s on the seat. I must go back for it.”

  “Papa, no!” Natalie shouted, and reached after him. “You must get in the boat.”

  “I won’t leave it!” Ritter pulled away from her grasp and headed like a man possessed to where he’d been sitting. But another sudden pitch of the boat, the stern elevating, hurled him to the deck and back toward them. From the boat, Natalie screamed. Nordstrum went over and lifted the old man up and carried him back to the lifeboat, which was ready to be lowered. He handed him across the gunwales to Natalie and another passenger and they helped him into the lifeboat.

  “My cello…,” Ritter muttered brokenheartedly.

  “Get in the boat,” Nordstrum said. “I’ll find it.”

  As he handed him over, Natalie saw the blood on Nordstrum’s sweater for the first time. “Kurt.” Her eyes went wide. “You’re bleeding.”

  The stern of the ferry was now lifted out of the water. Everything that wasn’t tied down—baggage, seats, loose equipment—slid as in a rockslide toward the bow. Something knocked Nordstrum into the rail. For the first time he felt weak. Legs rubbery, without power. He put his hand inside his sweater and removed it. It was covered in blood.

  Lund’s shots had hit home.

  “Kurt, come now!” Natalie implored him from the lifeboat. The Hydro was taking on water. It was going down fast.

  He’d have to leap for it.

  There were about twenty people crammed into the boat, among them two other Hirden from Lund’s brigade. Ritter too. How could he trust him? That the old Austrian wouldn’t give him away. There’s the man who is responsible! He already had said so once. Nordstrum would be at the mercy of the two Hirden in the boat. Even still, it was a broad distance to jump now. No, better odds to find something to grab on to, he decided, and swim to shore. He looked again at his side. Blood continued to seep out. He put a hand on it to stop the bleeding. He knew wounds, and this was bad. He looked at Natalie from the deck.

  “I can’t.” He shook his head.

  “Sir, you can jump. We have you,” the crewman in charge of the lifeboat said. “But we’ve got to go. She’s going under.”

  “Kurt, please!” Natalie begged. “Jump.” Nordstrum could only look at her as the boat lowered away. “Please!”

  He didn’t move. Though he felt he had to sit down. His legs were without strength. The lifeboat fell away. He didn’t want her to remember him this wa
y—weak, unable to move. He only wanted her to remember him strong. Strong … if a bit undependable; he smiled inside. He shook his head again. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can, damn it,” she said. “You can. Kurt, jump.”

  The ferry creaked and lifted forward. Nearing the water, the lifeboat swayed.

  Natalie pushed her way to the front. All she could do now was hold on to his eyes. “I know it, Kurt. You only came back for me, didn’t you? To save me.”

  He watched her from the deck as the lifeboat hit the water and slowly nodded. “Yes.”

  From the shore, witnessing what had happened, fishing boats and sail crafts, anything that could float, were on their way.

  Nordstrum leaned back against the railing. Just for a second, he told himself. To collect his strength. His legs gave out. Then he was on the deck. He had to find something. Something that would keep him afloat. He had no strength left and it hurt too badly to swim. He’d float to shore; it wasn’t that far. Then collect his skis in Mael and climb to the vidda. Tonight he could meet the Yank and Larsen. At Skrykken. He could do it. He could. A true man goes as far as he can, and then …

  I know it, Nordstrum said, straining to lift himself.

  No.

  He coughed. Blood came out into his hand.

  There was nothing more to give. Not this time.

  The bow of the ferry was now completely underwater. The lake lapped toward him, encroaching up the deck. The drums of heavy water were on the bottom. London would like that, he thought. Tronstad, especially. That a Northman had done it. We strongly advise you to destroy the heavy water. And he’d done so.

  All good luck, they’d written.

  He smiled and spit up more blood. Not this time.

  Something heavy went by him. A large case of some kind, and he grabbed on as the stern rose even higher. The damn thing would float, he reckoned. So he held on. Time to get going, he urged himself. No, just a minute more … His eyes fixed on a beautiful sight, the morning sun gleaming off the whitecapped mountains, and he put his head back. The vidda had always been the friendliest of places to him. Somewhere up there, the Yank and Larsen would be wondering how he was.