It sounded like a card game.
He waited, as the guard heading down the dock had turned and began to make his way back up the wharf in their direction. Gutterson and Ox kneeled across from him in the brush. About a third of the way toward them, a military vehicle pulled up at the foot of the dock near the barricades. Perhaps an officer checking the final arrangements. The patrolling guard was called over. As soon as he reached them, Nordstrum waved Gutterson and Ox across. In a crouch, they both climbed over the fence, Ox struggling to make it over. Then they darted across to the gangway, as close to a scamper as Ox was able to pull off. In his fur jacket he looked like a large bear.
They snuck onto the boat.
“There are people on board.” Nordstrum pointed below, raising his index finger to his lips for them to be quiet. They heard shouting and cursing coming from the forward compartments. Twenty minutes had elapsed since they’d left Larsen in the car. Nordstrum signaled toward the bow. “Let’s go.”
With as little noise as possible they went inside, snaked past the open door that led to the crew’s galley, where what looked to be four or five men sitting around a table were engrossed at cards. Silently they made their way down the stairs to the third-class compartments. Nordstrum had scouted the ship just three days before. On the lower level, he found the airtight hatchway that led to the bilge, which he had judged to be the perfect place to plant the charges.
“Quick. In here.”
They went to undo the hatch.
That was when they heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.
Ox and Gutterson put themselves against the wall and instinctively reached beneath their parkas for their weapons. A man came down the steps. He was large, with wiry, dark hair, a crew’s cap, and a thick mustache. He looked at them with suspicion. “What are you people doing down here?” He eyed their hands underneath their parkas as if he had some idea what was there.
“Relax, friend,” Ox spoke up. “We mean no harm. It’s just that the fucking Hirden are on my friends’ tails. A matter of some forged ration cards, if you know what I mean. They just need a place to hide out a few minutes. Until it passes over. You know these bastards, they never call it a night. We thought we’d find somewhere suitable down here.”
“Hide, you say?” The crewman looked at them questioningly.
“Just until things pass over. Any trouble, you can go back up and say you never even knew they were here. In the name of the king, we beg you.”
“The king? You’re Jossings, then?” the watchman said. Good Norwegians.
They stood there for a moment, not sure what would happen next: if the man was going to agree to Ox’s request or blow the whistle and turn them in.
“Yes, Jossings,” Ox said. Nordstrum reached inside and wrapped his fingers around the knife he had hidden there.
“Well, there are places.” The watchman finally relaxed. “You wouldn’t be the first who needed to escape those bastards. Or had a piece of contraband that needed to be on the other side.”
With palpable relief, Nordstrum and Gutterson took their hands from underneath their parkas.
“Go right ahead.” He opened the hatch for the bilge pumps, just as they had hoped. “In there. That should be fine. But don’t make a night of it. I’ll come back in twenty minutes and it’s best that the three of you were gone.”
“We will be,” Ox assured the man. “Thanks.”
“Yes, thanks, friend,” Nordstrom and Gutterson agreed.
“And there’s water up to your knees, so watch yourselves,” the watchman added. “Never know what you’ll find in there. But the good news is, no one else will want to go in and find out, even if they come aboard.”
“That’s great. Twenty minutes, and we’ll be gone.”
“I’ll keep a watch out for them on deck, if it’s okay,” Ox said, with an eye to Nordstrom.
Nordstrum nodded. “Yes, that might be best.”
The man went back upstairs and Nordstrum and Gutterson crawled inside the hatch. Ox remained outside and went back upstairs to keep an eye out for any Germans and keep the watchman occupied.
Inside, the oily water was indeed up to Nordstrum’s and Gutterson’s knees. It was completely dark and, making sure the fuses and the explosives remained dry, they edged their way forward in the smelly tide. Who knew what had made its way into the bilge? The chamber was so low, there were only about four feet from the water to the compartment’s roof and they had to keep the explosives and the fuses above it.
“Quickly, Eric. Over here.”
They made their way to the front of the bow. An explosion here should rip open the boat’s exterior. It was after 2 A.M. They opened their bags and began their work.
Time was of the essence now.
*
In the Volvo, Larsen was beginning to sweat. An hour had elapsed. He was an engineer, a scientist. Not someone trained for these situations. He looked at the gun on the seat next to him. Gingerly, he wrapped his hand around the handle. What if he had to use it? What if Nordstrum, Gutterson, and Ox never came back? He’d have to steel his nerves and do what Nordstrum had instructed. He prayed he had made the right decision. If he hadn’t let his guard down, if he hadn’t been so open to their recruitment, he could be playing bridge at Kjellsson’s right now.
He looked at his watch again. An hour and five minutes now.
One way or another, he knew he would never be playing bridge with them again.
Then from down the street, he heard voices. Larsen’s heart stopped. Who would be out and about now, other than…? Confirming his alarm, two soldiers came into view. Heading down the street. Toward him. If they found him there with a gun he was sure to be interrogated. Show some nerve, Alf, please. He pulled the Colt to his side. His car lights were off. He was hidden behind the large mound of frozen snow. The two Germans carried lanterns. They were checking the street.
Larsen’s blood froze. He could hear their voices growing louder now. He took the gun, not knowing what to do. Would he shoot? Then what, put the car in gear and run off, as Nordstrum had insisted? To where? And what if they came out soon, expecting to see him here? He looked at the gun again. He felt his breaths start to get tight. No, he knew he wouldn’t use it. It wasn’t him. He’d never pulled a trigger in his life. He would sit here in the dark and pray they didn’t see him. The soldiers’ voices grew louder as they approached him. He would wait for them to find him and then try to explain himself. Why the chief engineer of Norsk Hydro was sitting in a car above the boat on which the shipment of heavy water was planned to be shipped. He had come here to kill himself, he would say. Yes, that might make sense. But with an American gun? Where would he have gotten it? Larsen thought of rolling down the window and tossing it into the snow. But he was too scared it would hit the ground, not the snow, and they’d hear.