I reached down into the bottom drawer of a locker and brought out the two service revolvers. I saw his eyebrows lift. 'Okay,' he said. 'You'll find me lying off wherever the water's shallow enough to take my hook. If you want to come aboard at night flick me G-E-O-R-G-E on a torch.'
'Right,' I said. I opened my wallet. 'Here's fifty thousand kroner. Give Curtis twenty and Jill ten. Keep the rest yourself. If you want Ulvik, his number is Bergen 156 102.'
I was running through drawers, taking out things I needed — socks, sweaters, gloves, oilskins. 'Get me some cigarettes, matches, chocolate and a half bottle of whisky,' I told Dick. 'And a couple of candles. They're in the galley. There's a small torch there, too.'
In five minutes I was ready with everything jumbled into an old kitbag. I dumped it over the side on to the quay. 'Let go for'ard,' Dick ordered. Wilson ran to the warps. Jill came towards me. 'Good luck!' she said. Her grey eyes were clouded as though with pain. 'Please God you reach him in time,' she whispered. Then suddenly she leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth. 'Thank you,' she said softly and turned quickly away.
'Let go aft,' Dick called to Wilson. The engine came to life with a roar. I turned to Curtis. 'I'm relying on you to catch up with Dahler,' I said. 'Don't follow him if he goes to Bergen. Go on to Finse. I want you there, between us and Jorgensen.'
'Okay,' he said.
'I'll get in touch with you at the hotel at Finse just as soon as I can.'
He nodded and I jumped down on to the quay as the ship went slowly astern. In the thin drizzle I stood and watched Diviner swing gracefully on the flat surface of the water. The propellers frothed at her stern and she glided away up the fjord, her slender spars devoid of sail, but her brasswork gleaming proudly even in that dull light. I watched her until she was no more than a ghostly shape in the thickening curtain of mist.
An open tourer swung into the quay, hooting furiously. Sunde jumped out from the seat beside the driver as the drosje came to a standstill. The back was littered with rucksacks and skis. 'You jump in the back,' he said, grabbing the kitbag. 'You can get yer rucksack packed then.' He opened the door and threw the kitbag on top of the rucksacks. I climbed in and the car started off before he was back in his seat. 'We can go as far as Vassbygden by car,' he said, as we tore up into the square and turned left along the bank of the river.
That was one of the wildest drives I have ever had. The driver was one of Sunde's resistance friends and evidently he knew something of the urgency of the matter, for he drove as though the devil was behind us. The road was little more than a stone track. We bumped and swayed up the valley. The mountains ahead were a grey-white world of snow half obscured by mist. On either side they closed in on us till we were winding along under beetling cliffs that looked as though they would rain boulders down on us at any minute, so cracked was the rock by the ice of countless winters, Sunde turned in his seat as I was struggling to pack my rucksack and still prevent myself from being jolted out of the car. 'Lovaas is exactly an hour ahead of us,' he said. 'Harald here' — he nodded towards the driver — 'had only just returned from driving him up to Vassbygden when I sent for him.'