30
Dieter Lund motioned the old man into a chair across from his desk at the Nasjonal Samling party office in Rjukan. “Pere Nordstrum … Please, sit down. Over here will be fine. You can wait outside,” he said to the Hirden sergeant who had brought him in.
His police office was on the second floor of the old Hanseatic trade building on King Gustav Street, the basement once a place where grain and cattle were stored, now converted to jail cells, which were amply filled. Lund had put his best uniform on, starched and pressed, with shiny metal buttons polished and fastened to the top.
He stood up. “I am very sorry for the manner in which we had you come in.”
Nordstrum’s father was a thin, weathered man, in his late fifties only, but a lifetime of heavy work and bitter winters had stooped his back and made him appear much older. He was bald on top with bushy, gray hair on the sides, thin, rough lips, and calloused fingers. Narrow, suspicious eyes. Still, Lund observed, he had the look of a man who could still handle himself in a tussle or in the outdoors if necessary.
“Go ahead, I assure you it’s all right.” Lund gestured to the chair. “I just wanted to have a little chat. May I offer you some coffee?”
“For yourself, maybe. None for me.” The elder Nordstrum followed Lund as he got up and stood over a tray on the right side of his desk and poured himself a cup.
“Please, don’t stand on politics. It’s so rare these days to find the real thing. So much of it is watered down. I’d be honored if I could share a cup.”
“I said not for me.” Nordstrum’s father waved it off again. “Just tell me, why am I here?”
“Why you are here…? Of course, we shall talk about this. But first—” Lund took a long sip of the coffee, savoring the smell. “To the new Norway…”
“I don’t have time for the new Norway. I have a farm to manage. I must insist, Captain, on what grounds have you brought me here?”
“You are here, of course,” Lund sat back down, “it’s sad to say, like so many others, through no fault or action of your own. But only because keeping the order requires different measures now, as outside agitators are in this country and bent on doing their new state harm.”
“Doing harm? I’m a farmer.” The old man glared. “I’ve always shunned politics, war or no war. What do any outside agitators have to do with me?”
“Not with you exactly, perhaps. I perfectly understand the confusion.” Lund pushed back his chair and crossed his legs. “But, perhaps, with your son.”
“My son…?” The old man’s dull gray eyes suddenly came alive. “My son is dead, I’m told.”
“Dead?” Lund laughed dismissively. “Then I have wonderful news for you, Pere Nordstrum. Your son has made a remarkable recovery. Almost Christlike, I would say. In fact, I am sure your son is quite alive. Possibly in England, training with those who would disrupt our national unity party. But more likely—and forgive me for thinking this might not be news to you—perhaps even back at home. In Norway. As we speak. Though whatever business he is on, he will no doubt not be showing his face much around here, as he is wanted by the state.”
“Wanted? My son fought for the king like many boys did. He was a soldier. Not a criminal. That’s no offense. What do you say he’s done?”
“He is wanted for crimes committed against the Nasjonal Samling party. Murder, in fact.”
“Murder? You must be mad.”
“I’m afraid I’m not. Against a member of the Hirden guard, to be clear. As well as the illegal appropriation of state property, specifically a coastal steamer, used in his escape. To England.”
“My son was a soldier.” The old man sniffed back. “One of his regiment came to me a year ago and told me he was killed in the Gunbraval Valley. I told him from the start not to get involved. That whoever wins, it would only end up with him dead and everyone else still fighting it out. And so it is. I haven’t heard from my son for two years. Yet you say he is wanted for crimes against the state? You will have to tell me, Captain, with all the murder, bribery, family informing on family, and the disappearances in the dead of night that go on here in the name of keeping order, how can you call anything that defends against it a crime?”
Lund put down his cup and leaned back with amusement. “You say you are a farmer, Pere Nordstrum? You should argue in a court of law. You are almost convincing. I brought you here for a chance to make your own situation easier, not for us to devolve into a dispute over this side versus that. Or, who holds the cards in this matter, and who does not…”
“Cards…? What cards do you hold?” The old man looked back.
“Enough playing around. Your son, Herr Nordstrum. I want to know if he has been in touch with you.”
“You drag me in here to, what…?” The elder Nordstrum forced a smile in the eyes of the man with the light hair slicked to the side, a smooth face with sideburns that had barely filled in, eyes the color of rain. “Inform against my son? Turn him in? You have your thugs remove me from my home, without a thimbleful of cause, and you expect me, even if I knew, to divulge his whereabouts? I’d rather you take out my own eyes, Herr Lund. Or my heart. Kurt is a resourceful boy. I say he’s dead and you say not, we’ll see.… But if he is not … If he is somehow back here as you suggest he is, it will likely be all the same in the end because I promise you will never find him until he has done whatever he has come to do.”
“Listen, old man.” Eyes narrowed, Lund leaned forward. “Let me be clear. When I spoke of holding cards, it was not some metaphor. I believe your daughter, Kristin, and her two children live in Trondheim with her husband. Trondheim is a long way away, but not so long when it comes to the reach of the law. I could have them here in days. I could put them, and I’m just speaking as a possibility, in the very cell underneath where we are now sitting. That would be a cruel and almost unjust irony, would it not? Perhaps she could persuade you of the wisdom in cooperating on this matter. I’m sure you have also heard of the detention camp outside Oslo at Grini. They are always accepting new residents, I am told. Women and children too. I assure you, they don’t ask too many questions there. So in this matter I simply want you to understand your choices. If I choose to leave her be, you will be under watch, and we would expect to know if he is in the region the moment he makes contact with you. And if not…” Lund pushed the saucer and dish away. “… then it is not as if I did not offer to help.”