Читаем The Blue Ice полностью

I stayed on at the wheel, wondering why Dahler had phoned Lovaas. What did he hope to gain? What was going on in that warped mind of his? I'd have stopped and dumped him ashore at Leikanger or Hermansvaerk if I could have spared the time. But I felt that every moment was vital. The hours passed slowly. Jill came up on deck as we reached Solsnes and turned south into Aurlandsfjord. Her face was a white mask. She didn't say anything. She just stood gripping the rail for a long time and then went below again. Clouds had gathered. The sun had vanished and the day was cold. The mountains in Aurslandsfjord were different. There were no tree-clad slopes and deep gullies full of water roaring down from the melting snows. The mountains were a wall of rock, rising sheer for 5,000 feet on either side of us. Their tops were bald and rounded, the ice-worn rock smooth and grey. And behind, the snow piled up like sugar icing.

Aurland was kinder than Fjaerland. It wasn't so wild. No vast ice fields stood over the little wooden town and it was set at the bottom of a fertile valley. But all round it were the mountains, a gloomy background of black rock and cold, grey-looking snow. It was raining and the clouds swept down like a curtain across the fjord. It was just short of midday as I picked up the glasses and focused them on the town. A steamer was moving into the quay. A plume of steam showed at the funnel-top and the sound of her siren echoed and re-echoed through the mountains till it died away in the stillness of distance. For a moment I thought Lovaas wasn't there. Then I saw the grey lines of the catcher, barely visible in the mist, emerge from behind the steamer.

I left Dick to run Diviner in to the quay farthest away from Hval 10. Sunde was with me in the bows and as we slid into the wooden piles, I jumped. He followed me. 'Which way?' I asked. I knew we were too late. But I was still in a hurry to get there.

'Up there,' he said and led me through a cutting between wooden warehouses.

We reached the main street and turned right into a small square with an old stone church. We crossed it and reached a bridge spanning a wide river, that sucked and eddied round the wooden piles of the bridge. The water was a cold green and very clear. The bed of the river was all boulders torn down from the mountains and the water curled in a thousand little white-caps as it bubbled over the rocks. Our feet made a hollow, wooden sound as we hurried across the bridge plankings. Sunde turned in at the gate of the second house on the right past the bridge. Two kittens, one white and one ginger, stopped their play and watched us out of wide, interested eyes. They ran mewing towards us as we knocked on the door.

'Who lives here?' I asked.

'Peer's sister,' Sunde replied. 'She's married to an Aurland man.' He pushed the kittens away with his boot and knocked again. The iron knocker made an empty sound on the wooden door. He looked down at the kittens who were sitting, mewing at him. 'They're hungry,' he said and beat violently on the door.

'Hva vil De?' called a voice. A fat woman with a white apron had come out of the neighbouring house. 'Men det er jo hr. Sunde,' she said.

'Hvar er?' he asked.

There followed a quick conversation in Norwegian. Finally Sunde broke a pane of glass and climbed in through the window, taking two kittens with him. I followed. 'Where are they?' I asked.

'They left early this morning,' he answered. 'Gerda, her husband, Peer and a stranger.'

'Farnell?'

He nodded, and led the way through to the kitchen. The kittens followed him, mewing plaintively. He poured some milk into a saucer and placed it on the wooden floor. 'They all had heavy packs and skis.' He opened the door of the food store and put a plate of fish on the floor for the kittens, together with the remains of the milk in a bowl. 'Gerda would never have left the kittens with nothing to eat unless she was upset.'

'But why did she go with them?' I asked.

'Why?' He laughed. 'You ain't got much idea of wot the mountings is like, eh? Olsen goes inter 'idin', see. Maybe 'e's makin' fer one of the turisthytten, maybe fer one o' the old saeters — that's our summer farms. Well, there ain't nobody up there this time of the year. It's all snow. So every bit o' food's got ter be taken up. That's 'ow we lived durin' the war. We lived in the mountings an' people like the Gundersens next door an' Gerda — yes, women as well as men — brought food up to us.' He went over to the kitchen range and put his hand up the chimney.

'What are you looking for?' I asked.

'War souvenirs,' he answered. 'Gerda's husband kep'

'em up the chimney. But they're gone now.'

'What sort of war souvenirs?'

'Pistols. Two Lugers we took off some Jerries.'

'So Farnell is armed?'

'That's roight. An' lucky 'e is, too — 'cos they only got aba't four hours' start.'

'How do you mean?'