Rudolf II Hospital, Vienna. 8 June 1944.
Ward 4 was filled with the sounds of sleeping. Tonight it was quieter than usual, no one moaning in pain or waking from a nightmare with a scream. Helena hadn't heard an air-raid warning in Vienna either. If they didn't bomb tonight, she hoped it would make everything easier. She had crept into the dormitory, stood at the foot of his bed and watched him. There, in the cone of light from his table lamp, he sat, so immersed in the book he was reading that he didn't heed anything else. And she stood outside the glow, in the dark. With all the knowledge of the dark.
As he was about to turn the page he noticed her. He smiled and immediately put down his book.
'Good evening, Helena. I didn't think you were on duty tonight.'
She placed her forefinger over her lips and went closer.
'What do you know about the night shifts?' she whispered.
He smiled. 'I don't know anything about the others. I only know when you're on duty.'
'Is that right?'
'Wednesday, Friday and Sunday, then Monday and Tuesday. Then Wednesday, Friday and Sunday again. Don't be frightened, it's a compliment. There's not much else to use your brain on here. I also know when Hadler gets his enema.' She laughed softly.
'But you don't know you've been declared fit for action, do you?' He stared at her in surprise.
'You've been posted to Hungary,' she whispered. 'To the 3rd Panzer Division.'
'The Panzer Division? But that's the Wehrmacht. They can't enlist me. I'm a Norwegian.’
‘I know.'
'And what am I supposed to be doing in Hungary? I -’
‘Shhh, you'll wake the others. Uriah, I've read the orders. I'm afraid there's not much we can do about it.’
‘But there has to be a mistake. It's…'
He accidentally knocked the book onto the floor and it landed with a bang. Helena bent down and picked it up. On the cover, under the title The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, there was a drawing of a boy in rags on a timber raft. Uriah was clearly angry.
'This isn't my war,' he said through pursed lips.
'I know that too,' she whispered, putting the book in his bag under the chair.
'What are you doing?' he whispered.
'You have to listen to me, Uriah. Time is short.'
'Time?'
'The duty nurse will be doing her rounds in half an hour. You have to have your mind made up before then.'
He pulled the shade of the lamp down to see her better in the dark. 'What's going on, Helena?' She swallowed.
'And why aren't you wearing your uniform today?' he asked.
This was what she had been dreading most. Not lying to her mother and saying she was going to her sister's in Salzburg for a couple of days. Not persuading the forester's son-who was now waiting in the road outside the gate-to drive her to the hospital. Not even saying goodbye to her possessions, the church and her secure life in the Viennese woods. But telling him everything: that she loved him and that she would willingly risk her life and future for him. Because she might be mistaken. Not about what he felt for her-of that she was certain-but about his character. Would he have the courage and the drive to do what she would suggest? At least he was clear it wasn't his war they were fighting against the Red Army in the south.
'We should have had time to get to know each other better,' she said, placing her hand over his. He grasped it and held it tight.
'But we don't have that luxury,' she said, squeezing his hand. 'There's a train for Paris leaving in an hour. I've bought two tickets. My teacher lives there.'
'Your teacher?'
'It's a long, complicated story, but he'll receive us.’
‘What do you mean, receive us?'
'We can stay with him. He lives alone. And, as far as I know, he doesn't have a circle of friends. Have you got a passport?’
‘What? Yes..?
He seemed lost for words, as if he was wondering whether he had fallen asleep while reading the book about the boy in rags and all this was just a dream.
'Yes, I've got a passport.'
'Good. The trip takes two days. We've got seats and I've brought lots of food.'
He took a deep breath. 'Why Paris?'
'It's a big city, a city you can disappear in. Listen, I've got some of my father's clothes in the car-you can change into civvies there. His shoe size -'
'No.' He held up his hand and her low, intense stream of words stopped momentarily. She held her breath and concentrated on his pensive face.
'No,' he repeated in a whisper. 'That's silly.'
'But…' She seemed to have a block of ice in her stomach.
'It's better to travel in uniform,' he said. 'A young man in civvies will only arouse suspicion.'
She was so happy she could hardly get the words out and squeezed his hand even harder. Her heart sang with such joy that she had to tell it to be quiet.
'And one more thing,' he said, swinging his legs out of bed.
'Yes?'
'Do you love me?'
'Yes.'
'Good.'
He already had his jacket on.
26
POT, Police HQ. 21 February 2000.
Harry cast his eyes around. At the tidy, well-organised shelves of ring-binders neatly displayed in chronological order. At the walls where diplomas and distinctions from a career in smooth ascent hung. A black and white photograph of a younger, uniformed Kurt Meirik, with the rank of major, greeting King Olav hung behind the desk and caught the eye of everyone who came in. This was the picture Harry sat studying when the door opened behind him.
'I apologise for keeping you waiting, Hole. Stay seated.'
It was Meirik. Harry hadn't made a move to stand up.
'Well,' said Meirik, taking a seat behind his desk. 'How has your first week with us been?'
Meirik sat upright in his chair and revealed a row of large yellow teeth, in a way which made you suspect he had overdone the smile training in his life.
'Fairly dull,' Harry said.
'Heh, heh. It hasn't been that bad, has it?' Meirik seemed surprised. 'Well, you've got better coffee than we have downstairs.’
‘Crime Squad have, you mean?'
'Sorry,' Harry said. 'It takes time to get used to it. To 'we' being POT now.'
'Yes, we'll just have to be a bit patient. That's true for a number of things. Isn't it, Hole, eh?'
Harry nodded assent. No point running at windmills. Not in the first month, anyway. As expected, he had been given an office at the end of a long corridor, which meant that he didn't see more of the others working there
