No one uttered a sound.
“Full speed ahead,” he shouted up to the bridge. “We’ve got a schedule to maintain.”
2
An hour later, at a café called The Gunwale along the wharf in the tiny village of Mael, Nordstrum, Jens, and Einar Skinnarland sat at a table having beers. The town was barely larger than a few docks and a rail depot, where cargo from the Norsk Hydro chemical factory in Vemork was carted down the mountain and loaded onto the ferries.
Nursing his Carlsberg, Nordstrum noticed the surprising number of Germans in town, which made him uneasy. Up to now, any Germans he encountered this close, he usually killed.
“You have to get used to it,” Einar said. “Things have changed since you’ve last been here.”
“I hope I never get used to it,” Nordstrum said, his eyes roaming to the Germans milling about freely.
“Before we start, I just wanted to say, Marte and I were very sorry to hear about Anna-Lisette.” Einar gave him a nod.
“It’s war.” Nordstrum shrugged. “Things like that happen. But thank you. Tell Marte the same for me.”
“It may be war, but it’s still a fucking shame. And what’s the word on your father?” Einar asked.
“Not well, from what I hear.” Nordstrum’s father had been a train mechanic for twenty years, and now ran the small farm on the edge of town where Nordstrum had grown up. “Working around all that coal has finally gotten the better of him.”
“I’m sorry to hear.”
“Maybe you can get word to him for me. Let him know I’m okay.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”
Nordstrum took a swig of beer. “Not since the war. Two years.”
“Two years … A lot’s changed in two years. I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’d be in your debt,” said Nordstrum. “But, more important, tell me, how is your son?” Karl was merely a baby when Nordstrum had seen him last.
“Booming.” Einar’s face lit up with pride. “He’s going on three now. His vocabulary’s already larger than mine.”
“Now that’s not much of a surprise,” Nordstrum said with a grin, and took another sip of beer.
Einar laughed obligingly. “And we already have him up on skis.”
“Of course. Like any Northman. He’ll be beating you down the Hawk’s Nest before you know it. And then, he’ll—” Nordstrum stopped mid-sentence as his gaze shifted to two SS officers who took seats at a table at the opposite end of the café. They were polite and removed their caps. The proprietor of the place hurried over to them with napkins and silverware. “Look over there.”
“Relax.” Einar shrugged. “You don’t have to worry about them. They’re far too busy to care about us. It’s the stinking Quisling militia you’ve got to worry about. They’ve got their noses in everything now.”
“Well, we know one less you’ll have to pay attention to.” Jens sniffed, pushing a blond curl off his forehead.
“How do you mean?”
“There was one on the ferry putting the fear of God into some woman and her boy, probably a poor Jew on the run,” Nordstrum explained. “Anyway, he had this sudden urge for a swim.”
“A swim? It’s freezing in the lake this time of year.”
“You know these Quislings.…” Nordstrum’s face barely twitched. “Hard to stop them when they get their minds set on something.”
“Jesus…!” Einar’s eyes went wide and he said under his breath, “You sent him over the side. What are you trying to do, hang a sign around your neck, ‘Come and get me—I’m right here’?”
“Couldn’t be helped,” Nordstrum said with a glance toward the Germans.
“These bastards…” Einar sipped his beer with an eye to the soldiers as well. “They’re all over, like fucking crickets in June. Rjukan’s overrun with them.”
“Rjukan?” Rjukan was Nordstrum’s home, about as unstrategic a place as could be. “Why here?”
“The Norsk Hydro plant. Up in Vemork. They’ve got something big going on up there.”
“Norsk Hydro? I thought all they made up there was fertilizer,” Jens chimed in.
“Ammonium nitrate.” Einar nodded. “But that’s all small potatoes now. Now it’s run by the Germans.” Nordstrum gave him a look of surprise. “All very top secret. It’s actually why I asked you here.”
He reached into his pocket and took out something, careful to conceal it from the German officers on the other side of the café, who had ordered sardines and beer.
It was a toothpaste tube, halfway rolled up.
“Trying to tell me something, Einar?” Nordstrum said. “I know I’ve been up in the hills a long time.”
“Perhaps. But this one’s likely the most important tube of toothpaste in all of Europe. It was smuggled to me by Jomar Brun. He’s the chief engineer at Norsk Hydro. There’s something inside it.” Einar took a cautionary glance at the Germans, who were trying to gain the waiter’s attention for two more glasses of beer. “Microfilm.”
“Microfilm?” Chief engineer was an important job, Nordstrum thought, and the Norsk Hydro factory was one of the largest operations in all of Norway. It was built into the narrow gorge a mile up the valley, since the rivers and cataracts that came down from the vidda were an excellent source of hydroelectric power. Truth was, the Norsk Hydro plant was the only reason Rjukan even existed as a town in the first place.
“He says we have to get it into the hands of Leif Tronstad, Kurt. That it’s a matter of the highest importance.”
“Tronstad?” The name got Nordstrum’s complete attention. “Tronstad’s in England, is he not?” Leif Tronstad was a world-renowned scientist whose name was known to most Norwegians. In fact, he had run the Norsk Hydro plant years earlier, before he escaped to London. Word was, he was a leader in the Free Norwegian Army there now. Nordstrum inspected the tube. If Tronstad needed to see this, one could be sure it was of the utmost importance. He handed it back to Einar. “Microfilm, huh? Of what?”
“Brun would only say that it was vital to get it safely into Tronstad’s hands in the fastest possible way. He knew I had contacts.” He put the tube back into his pocket.
“Getting to England isn’t exactly an easy thing, Einar.” Nordstrum took a pencil and sketched a map on his napkin. “Sweden would be the best route. But that’s not an easy journey. The sun may be shining here, but in the mountains it’s still winter. And even if you make it there, through the storms and German patrols, there’s still no guarantee.”
“That’s why I contacted you, Kurt. You know the way. You’re at your best up there on the vidda. I’m hoping you’ll come with me.”
“With you? You’re an engineer, Einar, not an agent. You belong in the field, checking for cracks on dams, not playing with guns. Besides, you have a family to take care of. It’s two hundred and fifty kilometers to Charlottenberg.” The town closest to the Swedish border. “You’re truly willing to take this on?’
“I can hold my own as well as any in the mountains, Kurt. Brun said it was vital. And besides…” He trailed off.