'Off Skarv Island?' The sudden interest in Lovaas's voice hit me like a punch. I could see it coming and I couldn't stop it. I began to talk about salvage operations in British harbours. But only the Kiellands were interested. Lovaas had stopped eating and was watching the diver. 'Were you out there this morning, Mr Sunde? — ' he asked.
I kept on talking. But all around me was a heavy silence. Sunde gave Lovaas a quick, scared glance and then his eyes fell to his plate. He toyed nervously with his knife and fork. But he didn't eat. 'That's roight,' he said. And then hurriedly: 'Oi went da'n ter examine the engines. When Oi sees they're okay Oi sends me mate inter Bovaagen fer an acetylene cutter.'
Lovaas was on him like a hawk. 'To Bovaagen, eh?'
'That's roight,' Sunde replied. But the way he said it lacked conviction and he fumbled with his knife as he spread thin layers of cheese on top of meat.
'Who are you working with?' Lovaas went on.
'Peer Storjohann,' Sunde replied. 'He and Oi is partners. We own the boat an' the equipment.'
'And the fisherman?'
'Oh, he's a local man,' put in Kielland. 'Old Einar Sandven from Nordhanger.'
'From Nordhanger, eh?' Lovaas seemed chewing this information over in his mind. Then he said, 'What time was it you ceased work this morning?'
Sunde looked across at me and then at Lovaas. He seized his glass and took a gulp of beer. I leaned forward across the table and said, 'Can you tell me more about these engines? Presumably the plane was shot down several years ago. Surely the engines will be rusted beyond use?'