The two soldiers had passed through the gate and were stomping their way through the snow towards me. I glanced around feverishly. I had to escape. At least, I had to try. I tightened my grip on the rope. Oslo was rolling playfully in the snow, oblivious to my hell. I called to him. He stopped and looked at me all wide-eyed and full of anticipation. Our stares met. I think he understood.
‘Mush! Mush! Mush!’
Oslo sprang to his paws and bounded off with huge, lolloping strides. I bent my knees, leaned back slightly and rode the snapping jolt that arrived the moment the rope tightened. We were off.
‘Come back, Finn Gunnersen, or I’ll have you shot!’ Jacobsen yelled.
I didn’t look round. I waited for the bullet to thump into my back. It was as if I had eyes in the back of my head. I could picture the two soldiers seizing the rifles slung over their shoulders, each dropping down onto one knee, taking careful aim and squeezing the trigger. The shots came. I heard them but neither struck me. If I was worth more to the SS alive than dead, then maybe they were just warning shots.
‘You’ll not get far. We’ll track you down,’ I heard Jacobsen cry.
Oslo and I sped across the field, away from the gate and the soldiers. I leaned forward on my skis and kept as low as I dared, my knees bent. Oslo proved awesome. Our earlier practice now felt feeble, as if it had all been in slow motion. This was the real thing. This was a real race, a race of life and death.
We hurtled through a gap in the fencing and into the next field, carpeted with pristine white snow. The steep climb did little to dent Oslo’s effort. Up we went, over the crest and down the other side. Beyond lay the woods. There’d be cover there, a little safety. We headed for the snow-covered paths winding through the trees.
Having kept going for what felt like hours, I was finally overcome by exhaustion. I knew where we were thanks to occasional glimpses of the fjord. Oslo stopped and, panting wildly, slumped into the snow. I slid up to him. ‘Hey, Oslo, you OK?’
He whimpered and tried to wag his tail but looked shattered. ‘You’ve been magnificent,’ I said, crouching to pet him. ‘Due at least a commendation, if not a medal. Jack was crazy not to want you back.’ I knelt down beside the panting bundle of bones and stroked his long silver fur. It felt wet and sticky beneath his belly. I saw blood on my hand. ‘Jesus, Oslo!’ Gently I rolled him over. The new harness had bitten and chafed his skin. It looked horribly raw. But Oslo hadn’t complained. ‘That’s enough for today, I think.’ I undid the harness and carefully removed it. He was understandably glad to be rid of it. I sat beside him and took a good look around.
The snowy track stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions, the trees to either side looking dark and impenetrable. I’d taken us in a wide sweeping arc. Although it felt like the heart of the wilderness, in fact we were just a few miles or so from our village. ‘What the hell do we do now, Oslo?’ I said. He stood up and licked my face. It was part affection, I think, and part hunger. In the wild, one dog can feed another by regurgitating his last meal. The licking stimulates bringing it all back up. I wasn’t about to share my breakfast with him, but figured he deserved the contents of my anorak pocket – a few stale oatmeal biscuits I’d brought with me to bribe him during our training session. He tucked in ravenously. As he chomped and crunched, I followed a faint sound of trickling water until I discovered its source, a small stream in the bottom of a gully. The surface was frozen but the ice looked thin. One kick of my boot shattered it. I cupped water with my hands, splashed my face and drank some. Oslo joined me and lapped his fill.
I needed a plan. Oslo and I were fugitives. Soldiers would be on the lookout for us. Maybe the SS would organize a search party. They’d bring their dogs and move forward in a line, not leaving one stone unturned. Is that what Anders Jacobsen had in mind? Or would he simply wait for me to resurface? I guess it all depended on what they found when searching my house. I was only important to them up until the exact second they found the maps. After that, I was of no further use – expendable, in fact.
‘So, Oslo, where can we go? What are we supposed to do?’
Although I’d tried not to think about it, I had to assume that Mother and Anna were heading for the Kristiansten Fortress. I hoped they were safe, but knew it was highly unlikely. Anders Jacobsen struck me as the thorough sort, the kind of man who loved dotting the ‘i’s and crossing the ‘t’s. He had most things covered. He’d not left me much to work with. In the end I decided to act as though they’d not found the maps, because if they had, it was game over. My plan was simple. First, I had to warn Loki and Mr Larson, though they probably already knew something was wrong. They’d see that for themselves as soon as my house was raided. Secondly I had to retrieve the maps – assuming Fritz hadn’t found them. I knew it was a long shot, but there was no alternative. Then I needed to get Jack’s briefcase to England. Could I hitch a ride on the Shetland Bus? Could we get one to sail earlier than planned? The questions whirled around in my head. Either way I couldn’t stay here for much longer.
I got up and slung my skis over my shoulder. ‘Come on, Oslo. Let’s go. We’ll head for Loki’s house first. Maybe he or his father will have some bright ideas.’
My legs knew the way home. Once we left the cover of the woods, we walked across the fields. It was getting dark but I was grateful for the shadows that came with it. Once I was forced to join the road, I tried to act completely normally. Although desperate to get back, running, I decided, might draw unwanted attention. Oslo stayed close to my side. He seemed to be limping slightly but didn’t complain. The harder I tried to amble along casually, the more awkward and self-conscious I felt. I began whistling to show the world I was relaxed and unafraid. But my eyes betrayed me, flitting from side to side, desperate to spot anyone in a doorway, anyone lurking in the shadows, anyone peeking from an upstairs window.
I kept to the back streets of our village, hoping to avoid everyone. It began to snow, heavily too. Huge flakes floated down thick and hard, swirling in the wind. I tightened my anorak hood around my face, but still the snow managed to work its way into even the smallest gap. Trudging along in a weary silence, I suddenly felt as miserable as hell.
A hand grabbed my arm and dragged me into a recessed doorway. ‘What the—?’
‘Finn, where the hell have you been? I’ve been out looking for you for hours. I had to warn you.’
It was Ned.
‘They’ve done your house, Finn. Torn it apart,’ he whispered urgently.
I gathered my thoughts and then asked Ned what he knew, what he’d seen.
‘They came this morning, Finn. Closed off your street and then proceeded to search the place from top to bottom.’
‘What about my mother and Anna?’
He shrugged. ‘Haven’t seen them, Finn.’
I wondered what that meant, but then remembered they’d gone to church. Maybe they’d been arrested there. ‘And Loki?’
‘Not seen him. But there’s a rumour going round that his parents have been taken.’ Ned still had a tight hold of my arm. ‘Are you a complete idiot?’ he hissed.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You should be hiding, lying low, or trying to get as far away as possible. It’s your only chance, Finn. It’s suicide to be walking the streets like this.’
‘I’ve got to go home,’ I said.
‘Forget it. The Gestapo are watching your house. They’re parked up the street.’
‘You don’t understand, Ned. I have to. I need to collect something important,’ I replied, adding under my breath, ‘If it’s still there, that is. And I need to see if Loki’s OK. Believe me, it’s worth more than you can imagine.’
Ned puffed out his cheeks. ‘Well, if it’s that important, then you’ll need my help. A little diversion seems to be the order of the day.’ He let go of me and lifted his anorak to reveal a pistol lodged in his belt. ‘I’ll walk with you. When we get close to your street, I’ll head off and attract the
attention of the Gestapo. It won’t give you long but it’s the best I can do, Finn.’
Our eyes met, and despite the darkness I could see Ned was serious. ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Come on, let’s not hang around here.’
We hurried, Oslo dragging me along. Eventually we stopped not far from the corner at the top of my street. ‘I’m off this way,’ said Ned. ‘Give me a few minutes.’
‘OK. Will there be a signal or something?’
He laughed. ‘No, but you’ll know when it’s safe to proceed, believe me.’ He held out a hand. ‘Good luck, Finn. I mean it. Be safe.’
I shook his hand tightly. ‘And you, Ned. Try not to get yourself arrested. I owe you one.’
He laughed again. ‘Maybe now we’re even. God knows, I’ve lost count. See you after the war.’ He turned and fled.
We’d always lived in the same house. I’d even been born there. I’d always seen it as a place of safety, of loving faces, of family and friends. Father once told me that the English have an old saying – An Englishman’s home is his castle. It’s something I think we all understood. I wondered if I was about to see our house for the last time. The thought twisted me up inside, my guts feeling as tightly wound as a ball of string.
I pressed up against a wall and risked taking a glance in the direction of our home, and towards Loki’s a couple of doors nearer to me. Both sides of the road were flanked by near identical timber houses painted the same boring brick-red colour. In the dark they always looked ominously black. Here and there lamplight filtered from windows. Everything seemed perfectly normal. Too normal? I wondered. I noticed deep ruts carved in the snow by the monster tyres of German trucks. Yes, they’d certainly paid us a visit all right. The thought of the enemy rifling through my cupboards made me want to scream. I spotted a Mercedes parked much further down the road. It was too far away to see if anyone was inside but its bonnet was clear of snow. I figured its engine was still warm.
‘Well, Oslo,’ I whispered, ‘Ned was right. I reckon there’s a fair chance our Gestapo friends are over there waiting for us.’
We watched for Ned’s diversion. I wondered what he had in mind and decided it was safer to head for Loki’s house first, just in case there were other soldiers lying in wait. And I’d approach from the back to minimize the risk of being spotted.
Ned appeared at the other end of our street and began walking casually towards us, towards the parked car. He had hold of something. Was it his gun? I squinted. No, it was larger than a gun. Approaching within a few yards of the back of the car, he stopped, raised an arm and then flung whatever he was holding at the car’s rear window. I heard glass shatter. Then he yelled abuse before turning and running. The car started, its headlamps came on, and it spun and slid through one hundred and eighty degrees. Ned sprinted away at full tilt. The car shot after him. First Ned, then the car turned a corner and were gone.
Crossing the road, Oslo and I headed for a narrow gap between numbers seven and nine, and I prayed Hetti Lundgren’s lapdog wouldn’t start barking and give us away as we reached the rear of her house. Light-footed, I hauled myself over a fence, helped Oslo over, and together we scurried across Hetti’s back yard. Slowly we moved from house to house. I helped Oslo over each fence in turn. He could have climbed them alone but would have made far too much clattering noise. Eventually we reached Loki’s house. I crawled on all fours to beneath a window, raised myself up and peered in. I couldn’t see any lights on. I heard a distant gunshot. Then another. I prayed Ned would get away unscathed. Standing up, I knocked lightly on the door. To my surprise, it swung open. The lock had been forced. Taking a deep breath, I crept inside.
‘Loki,’ I called out. ‘It’s Finn. You home? Anyone at home?’
I stumbled into a large saucepan. Then I realized the kitchen was a total mess. The pine dresser had been toppled over, all the crockery smashed into tiny pieces. Drawers had been emptied, and cutlery was strewn everywhere. ‘Loki!’ I said again, although I didn’t really expect a reply. ‘Come on, Oslo, let’s take a quick look round.’ We made for the hallway and then the living room. Pictures had been torn from the walls, their frames smashed. Shards of glass crunched beneath my boots. ‘Mind where you tread, Oslo.’ The chairs and settees had been slashed with knives and the stuffing torn from cushions. I had not expected this. I’d hoped Loki’s family was safe. After all, Anders Jacobsen hadn’t mentioned them. Then I remembered what Ned had told me about the rumour circulating that they’d been taken. I realized I was naive. The Germans knew a lot about us all. Of course, they knew that Loki’s father had been in business with mine. They’d guess our families were close. How stupid of me not to realize that if the Germans came knocking on our door, they’d also pay the Larsons a visit. My heart sank. Had Loki been taken as well? ‘I’ve seen enough, Oslo.’ I turned to go.
‘Is that you, Finn?’
Startled, I let out a faint cry of fright. Someone was standing in the hall.
‘It’s me, Finn. Loki.’
I barely recognized his voice. He sounded scared – really scared.
‘What happened?’ I asked.
‘They’ve arrested Mother and Father, Finn. They’ve gone. I’ll never see them again, will I?’
I’d never seen Loki sob before, and it gave me a strange feeling of despair inside, as if it was hopeless, as if we’d been defeated, as if the end of the world had arrived. I explained what had happened, that Anders Jacobsen had tried to arrest me but that I’d escaped, all thanks to Oslo. ‘That dog saved my life,’ I said, stroking him firmly.
‘They did your house too, Finn.’
‘I know. Any news about Mother and Anna?’
‘Arrested as well. Outside the church this morning.’
Although I’d expected that bullet of bad news, the reality still came as a shock to me. ‘It’s all my fault,’ I cried. ‘If they’ve found Jack’s briefcase and maps, everyone will be facing a firing squad. And there’s nothing we can do. The Kristiansten Fortress is impregnable. I’m to blame. Why didn’t I just destroy those maps? I’ve been so stupid, stupid, STUPID!’ I hammered a fist against the wall.
Loki slumped to the ground. ‘Is there anyone we can trust?’
I cursed. ‘There’s only Father Amundsen left. And Ned, but I think he’s got enough on his plate at the moment running from the Gestapo.’
‘It’s hopeless, Finn, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, and to add to our problems, given that Anders Jacobsen knew about the maps, I reckon your father was right, Loki. There must be a traitor in our midst.’
‘Who?’
‘Lord knows. So I guess it’s just the three of us – you, me and Oslo.’
‘What do you mean?’
I sat down on the floor next to my friend, among the debris. ‘Well, the way I see it, things can’t get any worse. So we can either roll over and die, or take a deep breath and hit back.’
‘You’re crazy, Finn. We’re wanted men. We’re fugitives. There’s no future for us here. What on earth can we do?’
‘Exactly!’ I replied. ‘Our backs are to the wall. But have you forgotten?’
‘Forgotten what?’
‘We’re members of the Resistance, Loki. We don’t give up. Ever! Think of what we’ve seen and been through. Like Heimar, we can’t surrender.’
My friend shook his head. ‘Fine words, Finn, but words alone aren’t going to make much difference.’
‘True. So our actions must speak loudly.’
‘What have you got in mind?’
‘A special mission. Our very own special operation!’
‘Go on,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Something tells me I’m not going to like this.’
‘Well,’ I began. ‘Firstly, let’s see if the Germans did find Jack’s briefcase. If we’re in luck – and we’re due a little of that – it’ll still be hidden beneath the floorboards in my bedroom. We’ll make contact with Father Amundsen. We’ll get him to help us reach the border with Sweden. From there
we’ll head to England and deliver the maps in person. We’ll be able to join Freya. Think how wonderful it would be to see her again.’
‘And if the maps have been found?’
‘I guess we’ll still have to pay Father Amundsen a visit. Right now, heading for the border is probably our only option.’
‘But we can’t leave our families here, Finn. We can’t abandon them.’
He sounded choked. I felt choked too. But reality was staring us in the face, and it was horrible. I wished more than ever that Father was alive. I imagined him standing next to me, telling me to be strong, to be fearless, to do the right thing. ‘We don’t have any choice,’ I said determinedly. ‘Anyway, they’d want us to be safe. The last thing they’d want is for us to join them at the fortress. And you never know, Father Amundsen may have some ideas. He may be able to help them in some way. Come on, it’s not safe to hang around here.’
Sticking to the shadows, we crept towards the back of my house. The kitchen door had been ripped from its hinges and lay in the yard. Fresh snow had blown inside and begun to settle on the mess on the floor. The devastation was as bad as at Loki’s. Even so, as we entered, I heard the slow tick of our kitchen clock. It was hidden somewhere in the destruction. It had survived.
Hauptmann’s men had torn through the place like a whirlwind, respecting nothing. We headed upstairs to my room. Oslo made straight for my quilt, which was all torn and lying in a heap. I grabbed my hunting knife, hauled back the rug on my bedroom floor and gently lifted the loosened floorboard. I felt beneath it. ‘Yes! We’re in luck, Loki,’ I rejoiced. ‘Jack’s briefcase is still here, safe and sound.’
About to replace the floorboard, I hesitated, then reached down again.
‘Hurry up,’ Loki whispered. ‘What are you doing?’
Dogfight Page 25