The Blue Ice (23 page)

He smiled, but said nothing. He was like a cat – a cat that had been presented with a dish of cream. I could almost hear him purring. Damn the man! What infernal pleasure did he get out of the situation? I looked down at the map again. The railway running through Finse was marked quite plainly. That would be the Bergen–Oslo railway. I looked up at Dahler again. It would be quite easy to reach Finse from Bergen. And Jorgensen was at Bergen. ‘Who did you telephone from Fjaerland?' I demanded.

He smiled. But he made no reply.

A sudden anger seized me. I wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him till he answered. ‘Was it Jorgensen?' I asked, gripping the edge of the table.

‘Why should I telephone Jorgensen?'

I straightened up. Why should he telephone Jorgensen? He hated the man. What had made me think he'd telephone him? I was being a fool. I looked round at the others. They were all tense, all watching Dahler. Jill's face was white, like the little church at Fjaerland in the moonlight. ‘We'd better all get some sleep,' I said. ‘We only need two on watch at a time.'

Dick handed me a tumbler of whisky. I drank it off and went up on deck. The moon stood like a silver ball above the white snows of the Jostedal. It struck down the fjord, turning the water to a bright glade of light between the sombre mountains. ‘Call me at six,' I told Wilson. Then I went below again.

The saloon was empty. The tumblers rattled on the table to the shaking of the engine. Sunde was already back in bed when I slid open the door of my cabin. I sat down on his bunk and explained just why I wanted to contact Farnell. But all I got out of him was a promise to let me talk it over with his partner.

I undressed and got into my bunk. I was tired, but my mind was too full of problems for sleep to come easily. I lay in the dark, listening to the juddering of the engines and thinking of Farnell climbing up through the valley to the snow-capped mountains. Thank God I could ski. Then I was asleep and the next thing I remember was Dick shaking me. ‘Come up on deck – quick,' he said. His voice was excited.

I jumped into some clothes and hurried after him up the companion. It was just past six and the sun was rising behind the mountains over our stern. Wilson was still at the wheel. Dahler was leaning against the chartroom, his small, crippled figure bundled up in a duffel coat that reached almost to his ankles. We were off to Balestrand. The white facade of the Kviknes Hotel showed bright in the glowing light.

‘Look!' said Dick, clutching my arm and pointing for'ard.

Ahead of us lay the wide sweep of the Sognefjord. And fine on our port bow the grey shadow of a whale catcher showed against the darker background of the mountains. It was tearing up the fjord at full speed like a corvette, a high bow wave showing white against its grey paint.

I dived for the chartroom and got the glasses. The twin lenses brought the catcher close and on the side of the bridge I was able to pick out the name
HVAL 10.
I put the glasses down and looked at Dahler. He was watching me. ‘So that's who you telephoned,' I said.

He turned his head and stared down the fjord towards the catcher. I took a step towards him and then stopped. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to get hold of his scrawny little neck and shake him until he was senseless. But it wouldn't do any good. ‘Dick,' I said. ‘Take Dahler below and have him fix some breakfast. Send Sunde up to me.' I went aft then and relieved Wilson at the wheel.

When Sunde came up, I pointed to the catcher. ‘That's your friend Dahler's doing.' I said.

‘No friend of mine,' he answered.

‘He telephoned Lovaas – yesterday, from the hotel.' I seized his shoulder and swung him round. ‘Listen!' I said. ‘We've got to get to Farnell before Lovaas does. Do you understand?'

He nodded.

‘We'll pick your partner up either on the way or at Aurland. If we don't will you guide me to Farnell?'

‘Yes,' he said. Then he looked at the slim lines of the catcher ploughing up the water as it raced down the fjord. ‘Lovaas is a proper bastard.' He turned to me again. ‘Mr Gansert,' he said, ‘I'll do anyfink you say, 'cos Oi reckon you're the only bloke wot can get Bernt Olsen safe a't o' Norway. Pity we didn't know you was a friend o' his. We could 'ave smuggled 'im aboard your boat instead of runnin' 'im up inter the mountings.' He struck his fist violently against the chartroom roof. ‘Ter fink o' Bernt Olsen on the run again. As if 'e 'adn't 'ad enough of it during the bleedin' war. Peer and Oi worked wiv 'im up 'er in the mountings. We was busy derailing trains on the Bergen–Oslo line at one time. Olsen was a brave man. The Jerries caught 'im, but they couldn't make 'im talk. Me an' me partner owe our lives to him. An' afterwards, 'e still went on working wiv us, till we was sent down to Bergen to sabotage shipping.' He seized my arm. ‘Oi don't care wevver 'e did kill Schreuder. It was no more than wot the little swine deserved. Schreuder was up at Finse working for the Jerries. Oi don't care wot Olsen done. If Oi can 'elp 'im ter escape, Oi will.'

The violence in his voice surprised me. ‘Why did you tell Dahler where Farnell had been taken?' I asked.

‘'Cos 'e threatened me,' he answered. Then he looked at me quickly. ‘Oi wouldn't 'ave told 'im then only I knew wot Olsen done fer 'im up at Finse and Oi thought he were a't to 'elp 'im, Mr Gansert,' he added. ‘I reck'n Dahler must be mad.'

‘Why?' I asked.

‘I dunno. 'E says 'e wants ter get ter Olsen so's 'e can disprove the charges wot've bin made against 'im. But Olsen can't disprove them charges. They're true.'

‘But I thought Olsen got him and five others away in aero engine cases.'

‘That's roight. So 'e did. But 'ow did Dahler fix fer the guard to be relaxed? Oi dunno. But it looks sort o' fishy ter me.' His gaze wandered again to the catcher, now disappearing round the headland which I was cutting fine. ‘As fer Lovaas,' he murmured. ‘If the war were still on and Oi 'ad a tommy-gun—' He made a motion of mowing an enemy down.

‘Did Lovaas work for the Germans?' I asked.

‘'Course 'e did,' he replied. ‘Lovaas goes where the money is. Why d'yer s'pose 'e's a'ter Olsen now?'

The catcher had disappeared. ‘I suppose he is bound for Aurland,' I said.

‘Why else would 'e be racin' up the Sognefjord?' Sunde answered. ‘Ain't no whales in the Sogne. An' every minutes 'e's away from the whaling gra'nds, is money lost. That means there's bigger money up 'ere – an' from wot Oi've gathered, that means 'e's a'ter Bernt Olsen. 'Course 'e's makin' fer Aurland.'

As we rounded the headland, the catcher came in sight again. But she was stern on and fast disappearing into a light haze. The best
Diviner
could do was eight knots.
Hval Ti
was doing a good twelve.

I stayed on at the wheel, wondering why Dahler had phoned Lovaas. What did he hope to gain? What was going on in that warped mind of his? I'd have stopped and dumped him ashore at Leikanger or Hermansvaerk if I could have spared the time. But I felt that every moment was vital. The hours passed slowly. Jill came up on deck as we reached Solsnes and turned south into Aurlandsfjord. Her face was a white mask. She didn't say anything. She just stood gripping the rail for a long time and then went below again. Clouds had gathered. The sun had vanished and the day was cold. The mountains in Aurslandsfjord were different. There were no tree-clad slopes and deep gullies full of water roaring down from the melting snows. The mountains were a wall of rock, rising sheer for 5,000 feet on either side of us. Their tops were bald and rounded, the ice-worn rock smooth and grey. And behind, the snow piled up like sugar icing.

Aurland was kinder than Fjaerland. It wasn't so wild. No vast ice fields stood over the little wooden town and it was set at the bottom of a fertile valley. But all round it were the mountains, a gloomy background of black rock and cold, grey-looking snow. It was raining and the clouds swept down like a curtain across the fjord. It was just short of midday as I picked up the glasses and focused them on the town. A steamer was moving in to the quay. A plume of steam showed at the funnel top and the sound of her siren echoed and re-echoed through the mountains till it died away in the stillness of distance. For a moment I thought Lovaas wasn't there. Then I saw the grey lines of the catcher, barely visible in the mist, emerge from behind the steamer.

I left Dick to run
Diviner
in to the quay farthest away from
Hval Ti.
Sunde was with me in the bows and as we slid into the wooden piles, I jumped. He followed me. ‘Which way?' I asked. I knew we were too late. But I was still in a hurry to get there.

‘Up there,' he said and led me through a cutting between wooden warehouses.

We reached the main street and turned right into a small square with an old stone church. We crossed it and reached a bridge spanning a wide river, that sucked and eddied round the wooden piles of the bridge. The water was a cold green and very clear. The bed of the river was all boulders torn down from the mountains and the water curled in a thousand little whitecaps as it bubbled over the rocks. Our feet made a hollow, wooden sound as we hurried across the bridge plankings. Sunde turned in at the gate of the second house on the right past the bridge. Two kittens, one white and one ginger, stopped their play and watched us out of wide, interested eyes. They ran mewing towards us as we knocked on the door.

‘Who lives here?' I asked.

‘Peer's sister,' Sunde replied. ‘She's married to an Aurland man.' He pushed the kittens away with his boot and knocked again. The iron knocker made an empty sound on the wooden door. He looked down at the kittens who were sitting, mewing at him. ‘They're hungry,' he said and beat violently on the door.

‘
Hva vil De?
' called a voice. A fat woman with a white apron had come out of the neighbouring house. ‘
Men det er jo hr. Sunde
,' she said.

‘
Hvar er?
' he asked.

There followed a quick conversation in Norwegian. Finally Sunde broke a pane of glass and climbed in through the window, taking the two kittens with him. I followed. ‘Where are they?' I asked.

‘They left early this morning,' he answered. ‘Gerda, her husband, Peer and a stranger.'

‘Farnell?'

He nodded, and led the way through to the kitchen. The kittens followed him, mewing plaintively. He poured some milk into a saucer and placed it on the wooden floor. ‘They all had heavy packs and skis.' He opened the door of the food store and put a plate of fish on the floor for the kittens, together with the remains of the milk in a bowl. ‘Gerda would never have left the kittens with nothing to eat unless she was upset.'

‘But why did she go with them?' I asked.

‘Why?' He laughed. ‘You ain't got much idea of wot the mountings is like, eh? Olsen goes inter 'idin', see. Maybe 'e's makin' fer one of the
turisthytten
, maybe fer one o' the old saeters – that's our summer farms. Well, there ain't nobody up there this time of the year. It's all snow. So every bit o' food's got ter be taken up. That's 'ow we lived durin' the war. We lived in the mountings and people like the Gundersens next door and Gerda – yes, women as well as men – brought food up to us.' He went over to the kitchen range and put his hand up the chimney.

‘What are you looking for?' I asked.

‘War souvenirs,' he answered. ‘Gerda's husband kep' 'em up the chimney. But they're gone now.'

‘What sort of war souvenirs?'

‘Pistols. Two Lugers we took off some Jerries.'

‘So Farnell is armed?'

‘That's roight. An' lucky 'e is, too – 'cos they only got aba't four hours' start.'

‘How do you mean?'

‘Lovaas was 'ere only an 'our an' a 'alf back. 'E'll be on is way up inter the mountings by now.' He went to the window and peered out. The rain was little more than a light mist. ‘If it's snowin' up in the valley they'll be orl roight. But if it ain't snowin'.' He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Listen, Mr Gansert. Oi'm goin' after Peer. Can you ski?'

I nodded. ‘I'm pretty fair,' I said.

‘Okay. I'll be at the ship in half an hour. I'll 'ave rucksacks, skis, food – everyfink. What size boots do you take?'

It told him. His air of command had taken me by surprise. Before the next few hours were out Alf Sunde was to give me several surprises. ‘We gotter move fast,' he said as he went through the front door and turned back towards the bridge. ‘Yer'll want light oilskins and warm clo'ves,' he said. ‘Got a gun?'

‘Yes,' I replied. ‘I've got two Smith and Wesson three-eights.'

‘Bring 'em bo'f.'

‘Good God!' I said. ‘Lovaas wouldn't risk a shooting.'

‘Wouldn't 'e?' He laughed. ‘Not normally 'e wouldn't. But this is different. From wot I've gavvered o' this business it's big enough fer 'im ter go a'tside the law and get away wiv it. Wot's the deaf of a few men when a new industry's at stake, you just tell me that?'

I remembered the scene that night in the whaling factory. Sunde was right. Lovaas, knowing what the prize was, would stick at nothing. ‘I'll bring the guns,' I said.

We parted in the square and I hurried back to the ship. Jill was leaning against the rail with Curtis as I stepped on board. ‘Where is he?' she asked. ‘Captain Lovaas left over an hour ago with Halvorsen, his mate, and one of his men – a man named Gaarder. They had rucksacks and skis. What's happened, Bill?'

‘Farnell's gone up into the mountains,' I said. I glanced round the deck. ‘Where's Dahler?' I asked.

‘He's gone,' Curtis answered. ‘He caught the steamer.'