Watching over the German guard hut, their nerves were starting to fray. They could still spot Kjelstrup in the bushes, keeping an eye on the guards on the bridge. Never once had they broken off their rounds. Gutterson got Arne’s attention and tapped his watch as if to say, A lot of time has passed. I hope they’re all right in there.
Arne answered back with an anxious nod of his own, indicating he was feeling the same way.
“Stay calm, Eric.” Poulsson placed his hand on Gutterson’s shoulder. “If they’d been caught, the alarm would be sounded. We’d know.”
Gutterson let out a breath and nodded. He just couldn’t believe how long it was taking. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, keeping his control with a hut full of Germans only ten yards away. He felt his heart thumping loudly in his chest.
Suddenly the steel door to the basement flung open. Poulsson pointed. “Look!”
Ronneberg, Nordstrum, Jens, and Stromsheim sprinted out of the building in the direction of the rear gate. Ronneberg stopped and looked back their way and waved for the rest of the team to withdraw as well.
“My God, they actually did it!” Poulsson couldn’t help but break into a wide grin.
A second or two later a loud rumble emanated from inside the building. Not the deafening blast any of them had imagined, for they’d all talked about the force of it possibly bringing down the whole building. A yellow flash could be seen from inside. The glass from a basement window blew. Still, the sound was more of a thud than a real explosion, clearly muffled by the ongoing hum of the turbines as well as the factory’s thick concrete walls.
“Was that it?” Gutterson remained there, waiting for something louder to occur. They’d all expected the guard hut to empty at the sound of it and to have to open fire on them.
No one had come out.
“I don’t know.” Poulsson shrugged. But Ronneberg was waving frantically for them to come his way as the demolition team scurried toward the gate. “It had to be.”
He turned and signaled to Kjelstrup to withdraw as well. “Time to get the hell out of here!”
Just as they were about to leave, the door to the guard hut swung open.
Gutterson and Poulsson froze.
Kjelstrup dropped to his belly in the snow, bringing up his gun. Expecting a rush of Germans to exit the shed, Poulsson and Gutterson stayed behind the drums and pulled back the bolts on their tommies, taking aim.
But only a single, half-dressed guard emerged, with a rifle slung over his back and flashing a light around the yard. “Ist jemand da?” he called out.
Anyone there?
Ten yards away, Poulsson and Gutterson remained behind their storage drums, fingers on the triggers.
The guards on the suspension bridge seemed to look toward the factory as if they’d heard some noise, but didn’t leave their posts.
“Is anyone there?” the German guard said again, as if expecting someone to reply. There was nothing. Just one of the usual bangs and concussions caused by the machinery. Nothing to get alarmed about. He ran his light around the yard, seemingly without much concern, going as far as the ground floor of the factory, only steps away from the crouched demolition team, and pulled on the steel outer door.
It was locked.
“Who’s there?” he called out again, flashing his light.
One beam went directly over Poulsson, ducking behind the storage cask.
Gutterson tensed his finger on the trigger. “Shall I shoot?” he whispered to Poulsson, the steady drone from the turbines drowning out his words.
“He doesn’t seem to know we’re here,” Poulsson replied. Shooting him would only create an all-out confrontation, and even if they wiped out the guards and escaped, the alarm would be sounded. He placed a steadying hand on Gutterson’s elbow. “Not unless he spots us for sure.”
“Jemand…?” the guard called out one more time. Anyone? He stepped over, barely ten feet from where Poulsson and Gutterson were crouched, and shined a light directly over their heads.
Gutterson sucked in a breath. If that bastard lowers that light another foot, it’ll be the last thing he ever does.
“Schiesse…” the guard muttered to himself, and headed back to the hut.
“See anything…?” someone asked him as the door opened.
“Who knows…? Maybe the falling snow exploded a land mine or something,” the German muttered. “C’mon, let me back in. I’m not dressed for out here.”
The door quickly shut behind him.
Barely believing their luck, Poulsson and Gutterson both blew out a breath of relief with a roll of their eyes. They waved Arne forward, who scurried over to them in a crouch.
“Let’s get out of here.”
The three picked up in the dark and ran silently past the factory in the direction of the rail tracks.
The demolition team, which had taken cover in the snow, preparing to come to their countrymen’s aid, if needed, now saw three dark shapes hurrying toward them.
“Password?” someone called. It sounded like Jens.
“Fuck the password.” Kjelstrup appeared out of the darkness. “Let’s just keep moving.”
“What’s the point in having a password, if you don’t use it?” Jens insisted.
“Leicester Fucking Square. There’s the password. Does that make you feel good? Now can we go?”
“Are we sure it blew?” Poulsson looked at Nordstrum with uncertainty in his eyes.
Nordstrum shrugged. “You saw the flash.”
“Yes, but it was more like a couple of cars crashing in Piccadilly Circus. Not exactly what I imagined.”
“Me too, to be honest,” Stromsheim agreed. “I thought the whole building would come down.”
“It blew,” Ronneberg said, ending the dispute. “The compressors are gone. I’m sure.” The world’s extant supply of heavy water. “It’s all down the drain.”
“I can’t believe it.” Gutterson shook his head, finally letting out his amazement. “We actually did it. I thought we’d all be dead.”
“Well, we will be,” Ronneberg said to him, “if we don’t pick it up and get the hell down that ridge. We still have a lot of work to do before we can celebrate.”
In a minute they were back at the wire gate they’d come in through only half an hour before. Advancing out of the shadows, this time they heard the word “Piccadilly” whispered loudly ahead of them. Helberg. And this time they answered, “Leicester Square.”
Helberg stood up. “Is it done?”
Ronneberg nodded. “Yes.”
“I didn’t hear a thing. And you’re all here?” he said in amazement, silently counting each of them to be sure. There was no big explosion, no sound of gunfire, no alarm. “The Germans don’t even know?”