“But still, just as innocent. Einar, look, you know no one wants to spare innocent lives more than me. Perhaps we can rig the explosion so that the boat would sink at a slower pace. Maybe set the charges in the bow, where the rail cars with the heavy water would be situated. Once the hull takes on water, the ship would pitch forward and the rail cars would plunge into the lake. That would leave more time until the boat fully sank. If we time it correctly, it’s over four hundred meters to the bottom. They’ll never be able to bring them back up.”
“Yes, in theory deuterium oxide is heavier than regular water,” Larsen confirmed. “It should definitely sink.”
“It would minimize the casualties. The hard part will be constructing the charges to go off at just the right moment. We have only short fuses. We’ll need a real timer. Maybe an alarm clock,” Nordstrum said. “Or two.”
“Okay.” Einar nodded. “But we still have to make our way on the night before.”
“You mean my way on,” Nordstrum corrected him. “As per orders, you won’t be anywhere near. But yes, we may need someone to divert the guards. If I have to, I know what to do.”
“You know if this actually takes place,” the color drained from Larsen’s face, “they’re going to know in about one second I must have had a hand in it. Undoubtedly, I’ll be put up against a wall the next day and shot.”
“Yes, that’s certainly a possibility,” Nordstrum said.
“I can see that too,” Einar said, nodding.
The chief engineer stared back wide-eyed. “Thank you both, for such inspiring concern.”
“But you’re right, it won’t be safe here anymore,” Nordstrum agreed. “I’ll be heading to Sweden after it’s done. Can you ski?”
“I’m not exactly a champion, but yes,” the engineer said. “I’ve spent my time in the mountains.”
“Then make sure you pack a bag that night, and make it a small one. You’ll come with me.”
“To Sweden?” Larsen looked out blankly. “I’ve lived my whole life here. I don’t know any place else.”
“And you may well again,” Nordstrum said, “as a hero, if we’re successful. If not, what does it even matter? All will be lost.”
“So it’s agreed then?” Einar looked at both of them. “It’s the ferry. On Sunday … Alf, you’ll look into slowing the transfer of heavy water and pushing it back a day?”
“Sunday.” Larsen nodded. “I’ll get it done. Listen to me, I’m talking like some kind of secret agent.”
“We’ll make one of you yet,” Einar said. “All right, I’ll inform England of our plan.”
“One more thing,” Nordstrum said. “I could use another hand. Preferably someone with a knowledge of explosives. And who knows his way around.”
“You know I’d like to be that person,” Einar said. “But they’ve tied my hands. And in truth, Kurt, I’ve never actually pulled a trigger in my life.”
“Me either,” Larsen spoke up. Einar and Nordstrum stared at him. “Just in case you were wondering.”
“I’m surprised to hear that, Agent Larsen. You came so highly recommended.”
Larsen shrugged meekly. “I just thought I’d say.”
Nordstrum said to Einar, “Ask England. They must have people. There has to be someone available.”
“I’ll ask.”
A day later, via return message, SOE had approved their plan. And they informed Einar that yes, there was someone local around who fit the description of the person they needed.
It turned out to be someone Nordstrum already knew well.
PART THREE
The Ferry
65
Nordstrum and Ox met at the Swansu cabin where the Gunnerside team spent their first night after the raid at Norsk Hydro. “You said you wanted to do more than just send messages,” Nordstrum appealed to him.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Do you know how to use a gun?”
Ox’s heavy beard parted into a grin. “Does ice melt in July?”
Together they dug up Stromsheim’s pack, which contained the excess explosives and fuses they’d brought with them and buried near the cabin’s cistern after the raid, a year ago.
Nordstrum knew they’d have to jerry-rig something more intricate, as the original fuses were only two minutes long.
They brought the explosives back into town and stored them at Alf Larsen’s house. He was now a full-time member of the crew. “Can you find me an alarm clock from somewhere?” Nordstrum asked.
“I might have one somewhere,” the engineer volunteered.
“I’ll need two. And that violin case over there…” It was propped against the wall in a storage area where they hid the explosives.
The chief engineer shrugged sheepishly. “I used to play when I was a tyke.”
“I can use that too.”
“You played as well?” Larsen asked.
“No.” Nordstrum eyed his Sten gun. “You can keep the violin.”
*
The next day, Thursday, in old work clothes and with Larsen’s violin case in hand, Nordstrum took the bus to Mael to the ferry landing.
There were three ferries that piloted the lake. Nordstrum checked the schedule posted outside the ticket counter and saw that the one Sunday morning at 10 A.M. was the Hydro, an old screw-driven vessel with twin smokestacks that dated back to the 1920s. He had ridden it many times.
The Hydro was also scheduled to make the 3 P.M. crossing that day.
The flatcar that would bear the heavy water drums from Vemork would be offloaded from the train at the rail terminus adjacent to the wharf, shunted by a switch engine onto the bow of the Hydro, and then offloaded again in Tinnoset. Nordstrum had no idea, at this point, whether it would be brought down from Vemork that very morning or the night before. Either way, there was no doubt it would be heavily guarded.
“Ferry to Tinnoset,” Nordstrum said to the ticket master, a man with a scruffy white beard and a navy cap who looked like he’d been manning the window for decades.
“One way?”
“No. Round trip.”
“Four kroner.”
Nordstrum pushed through four one-crown coins.
“Nyt turen,” the agent said, stamping his ticket. Enjoy your ride.
The time was twenty of and Nordstrum took his violin case and waited on the dock while some of the passengers began to board. He was hungry, so he bought himself a bite from a vendor, a local sugar pastry filled with cream. It was a clear day and the crowd was large—families, workmen; even a party of four German officers who pulled up in a car and went on board, moving past the ticket collector with simply an entitled wave—a major, a captain, and two lieutenants.
At three minutes of, the ferry master sounded his horn three times and yelled, “All onboard!”
Nordstrum balled up the pastry wrapper and tossed it in a bin. He showed his ticket to the crewman at the gangplank and went on board.