The Blue Ice Read Online Free PDF Page B

spend it as any. For another, I too want to find out more about Farnell’s death. There are messages I have to deliver. You see, I was with him on the Malöy raid.’
    â€˜Why didn’t you deliver the messages after the raid when you heard he was missing?’ I asked.
    â€˜Because I knew he wasn’t dead,’ he replied. ‘No reason why you shouldn’t know about it, I suppose. I should have reported it at the time. But I didn’t. One doesn’t always do what one is supposed to do when one’s on active service. And afterwards – well, there seemed no point.’
    He paused. Nobody spoke. Everyone was watching him. He had taken a gold watch from his pocket and was toying with it. The girl gazed at it fascinated. ‘I was acting as liaison between the Kompani Linge and our own crowd on the Malöy raid,’ he went on. ‘When we were going in to the assault, Olsen came to me and asked me to give messages to various people. “But only when you’re certain I’m dead,” he said. “I shall be reported missing on this raid.” I asked him what he meant by that, and he replied, “I’ll do the job we’re ordered to do. But when I’ve got my men back to the beach, I’ll leave them there. I’m going into Norway on my own. There’s something I’ve got to do – something I’d started before the war. It’s important.” I argued with him – ordered him, as an officer, to report back with his men. But he just smiled and said, “I’m sorry, sir. One day perhaps you’ll understand.” Well, I couldn’t put him under arrest when we’d be in action in five minutes’ time. I just had to leave it at that.’
    â€˜And what happened?’ It was Jorgensen who put the question.
    Curtis shrugged his shoulders. ‘Oh, he did as he said he would. He brought his men back to the beach. Then he told them he was going back for a man who was missing. They never saw him again and we left without him. If I thought he’d deserted, I’d have reported the matter. But I’m convinced he didn’t. He wasn’t the type that deserts. He was tough – not physically, but morally. You could see it in his eyes.’
    I leaned forward. ‘What was it he had to do over there in Norway?’ I asked.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ he answered. ‘It may not have been important. But I know this. It was important to him.’
    I glanced at Jorgensen. He was leaning forward, his eyes fixed on Curtis. Opposite him, across the cabin, the cripple sat back in his chair and smiled softly. ‘What about you, Mr Dahler?’ I said. ‘Why have you come to see me?’
    â€˜Because I also wish to know more about Farnell’s death,’ he said.
    â€˜Then why do you want to be put ashore?’ I asked. ‘The answer surely is to come with us to Fjaerland?’
    â€˜I should like to,’ he replied. ‘But unfortunately—’ he shrugged his shoulders.
    â€˜You say you’d like to?’ I was puzzled.
    His fingers plucked at the cloth of the half-empty sleeve. ‘There are difficulties, you see.’ His face was working. His whole body looked taut.
    â€˜What difficulties?’ I inquired.
    â€˜Ask Jorgensen.’ His voice was violent.
    I turned. Jorgensen’s face was white. The rather leathery skin remained an impassive mask, but his blue eyes were narrow and watchful. ‘Suppose you tell them yourself,’ he said.
    Dahler jumped to his feet. ‘Tell them myself!’ he cried. ‘No. Why should I tell them that I can no longer enter my own country?’ He thrust back his chair and took a step towards Jorgensen. Then he turned abruptly about. A few agitated paces and he was brought up by the door to the galley. He swung round and faced us. ‘Never will I tell them that,’ he said. His brown eyes fastened themselves