The Blue Ice Read Online Free PDF Page A

electric. It was as though the two men had things between them that could be communicated without speech. It was Jorgensen who broke the silence. ‘I would like to speak to you privately, Mr Gansert,’ he said, turning to me.
    â€˜You are afraid to make your proposals openly, eh?’ Dahler said, and there was a venomous note in his voice. ‘It’s a pity Farnell isn’t here to advise Mr Gansert.’
    â€˜Farnell is dead.’
    â€˜Is he?’ Dahler leaned suddenly forward. He was like a spider darting from the corner of its web. ‘What makes you so sure he is dead?’
    Jorgensen hesitated. Any moment now he would pick up his hat and walk off the ship. I could see it coming. And I didn’t want that. If I could hold Jorgensen on board … And at that moment I heard the warning bell on Tower Bridge ring. I knew then what I was going to do. I edged towards the door. Jorgensen said, ‘I did not come here to talk about Farnell.’ I slipped out and hurried on to the deck.
    A tramp steamer was edging out from the neighbouring wharf. The traffic on Tower Bridge had stopped. Carter and Wilson were standing by the rail, talking. I went over to them. ‘Carter,’ I said. ‘Is the engine warm? Will she start up first go?’
    â€˜Ye dinna ha’ to fash yersel’ aboot the engine, Mr Gansert,’ he said. ‘Ah’ve got her so she’ll go when I click me fingers.’
    â€˜Get it going then,’ I said. ‘And make it quick.’ As he dived down the engine-room hatch, I ordered Wilson to let go the warps. ‘And do it quietly,’ I told him.
    He climbed over the rail and in a few seconds both warps were on deck. I slipped aft and took the wheel. The engine coughed twice and then roared into life. ‘Full astern,’ I called down to Carter. There was a bubbling froth under our stern and we began to move. As we slid clear of the wharf, I ordered ‘Full ahead’ and swung the wheel. The engine roared. The propellers frothed and gurgled under the water. The long bowsprit swung in a wide arc until it pointed straight for the main span of Tower Bridge.
    Dick came tumbling out from the companionway. Jorgensen was right behind him. ‘What is happening?’ Jorgensen demanded. ‘Why are we moving out into the river?’
    â€˜We’re changing our berth,’ I told him.
    â€˜Where to?’ he asked suspiciously.
    â€˜To Norway,’ I answered.

CHAPTER TWO
    THE GYBE
    When I told Jorgensen we were on our way to Norway, he was furious. He brushed past Dick and came aft to where I sat at the wheel. ‘Put back at once,’ he said. ‘I demand to be put ashore.’
    I said nothing. The centre span of Tower Bridge was above us now. The two uplifted sections of roadway threw back the sound of our engine. We were through just ahead of the tramp steamer. Beyond our bowsprit, the river lay like a dark road winding to the sea. On either side the warehouses stood like shallow cliffs. And behind us London glowed, reflecting the light of its millions on the low cloud that covered the city.
    â€˜You can’t get away with this, Gansert,’ Jorgensen shouted. I thought for a moment he was going to try and seize the wheel. I didn’t say anything. I was filled with a crazy feeling of elation. Of course, I couldn’t get away with it. I just couldn’t kidnap the man. But if I could bluff him into staying on board … if I could get him so worried that he didn’t dare go ashore for fear of missing something … I had three people with me who all knew something about Farnell. Cooped up in the narrow confines of the ship I’d get their stories out of them. And with Jorgensen on board, instead of on his way to America, I didn’t have to worry about the time factor. ‘For the last time, Mr Gansert,’ he said in a quieter tone, ‘will you kindly put me ashore.’
    I looked