'Sit down,' I said. Jorgensen appeared in the doorway. I pulled up a chair and thrust him into it. 'I'll set anyone ashore who wants to go,' I told them. 'But first listen to what I have to say.' Dahler sat down at the table, resting his weight on his withered arm as he peered up at me. 'For one reason or another we're all here because of one thing,' I said, looking round at their faces. 'Because of George Farnell's death.' I had their attention then. They, were all looking at me. I felt like the chairman of some incredible board meeting — the sort of board meeting one could only imagine in the moment of waking up with a hangover. They were such an odd assortment. And the undercurrent of emotion was so violent. It was in the air, like some electrical disturbance. On the surface they were just four individuals. But I was convinced that in some strange way they were all linked — and George Farnell was the link. 'For myself,' I said, 'I'm not satisfied about George Farnell's death. I want to know how it happened. And I'm going to Norway now to find out.' I turned to Curtis Wright. 'Since you brought your things with you, I take it you want to come?'
His glance went to the girl. Then he said, 'Yes, I'd like to.'
'Why?' I asked him.
He grinned. 'For one thing I've got three weeks' leave and this seems as good a way to 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 Maloy raid.'
'Why didn't you deliver the messages after the raid when you heard he was missing?' I asked.
'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 Maloy 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.'
'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.