Operation Napoleon

a military jeep, heading south to a town called Flensborg where two Germans met us, a lieutenant and a major, and the Swedish count, a member of the royal family apparently. From there we drove toward the front line. The roads were full of refugees and bomb craters – the battle of the Ardennes had been going on for several days at this point. We drove through Schleswig-Holstein where I was given a German uniform to change into. Next we passed through Hamburg where there was gasoline waiting, then on, following the course of the River Elbe, to Berlin, reaching it that evening. If anyone stopped us, all the Swedish count had to do was wave his papers and we’d be ushered through.

They gave me back my jacket, then held a long meeting at the aerodrome. I didn’t recognise anyone – they were all Nazi big shots, but the Swede was obviously an old acquaintance of theirs. There were German generals with him, two of them. And one from our side, as you said – I don’t know where he came from. I wasn’t allowed to attend the meeting – I’m just the driver. Some soldiers loaded two crates of gold bars on to the plane, and provisions of some kind. That was all. The plane is painted in our camouflage colors. A wonderful machine, the Junkers – powerful engines, tremendous weight-bearing capacity and range.

The meeting overran – it took forever. That’s why we’re in this goddamn mess. Otherwise we’d have missed the storm and ice, I’m convinced of that. At one point our man marched out of the meeting but the Swede persuaded him to go back in. A long time later the two of them came back out and held a conversation by the plane, going on about the Russians and the Ardennes, and Argentina and God knows what else. Anyway, the meeting dragged on and on. I tried to talk to the German soldiers but they couldn’t understand a word of English. I gave them some cigarettes. They were only boys, not even twenty. They smiled at me.

In the city there was a total blackout, like everywhere else, and it was strangely silent. They know it’s over. I don’t understand what they can be negotiating about. The end of the war? Are they going to end the war with a treaty? We know there’s not long left. Can they shorten it? It would save thousands of lives. The Russians will beat us to Berlin. Is that the problem? Why these secret talks?

I’m almost sure I saw Guderian at the meeting – I recognized him from the newsreels.

One of the lamps has gone out. I know you chose me because you trusted me to keep a secret and needed one of us to fly the plane across the Atlantic. I don’t blame you so don’t regret it. Never regret it.

I think we’re disappearing into the ice. We’re being buried alive.

Ratoff closed the book. The wind was dying down; the noise was not as shrill as before. Standing up, he opened the tent flap and peered outside. The night was pitch black but it was gusting and snowing less heavily now. The only illumination came from the floodlight on top of the communications tent. He realised it would take time to get things in motion since it would probably be necessary to dig the plane out again, but the longer the troops were on the glacier, the greater the risk they would attract attention. The sooner the wreckage and the Delta operators were back at base, the better. He considered calling out the Defense Force helicopters. This had been part of the back-up plan, but the drawback was that their activities tended to attract intense interest, not only from Icelandic air traffic control, who would ask endless questions, but also from the media, who scrutinised their every move. He had to make a decision: the storm had delayed the operation by at least a day and their presence on the glacier had now been discovered. There was an Icelandic rescue team in the area that had lost two members and was probably moving closer towards them every second.

Ratoff went into the communications tent and asked to be put through to the admiral in Keflavik.

Chapter 26

SOUTH-EAST ICELAND,

SATURDAY 30 JANUARY, EVENING

‘Is he dead?’

She could hear nothing but static.

‘Is Elias dead?’ Kristin shouted into the phone. ‘Is he still with you?’

The connection was very bad and only the odd word was audible; Julius – the leader of the rescue team – kept breaking up. She was standing out in Jon’s entrance hall, holding a heavy, old, black telephone receiver and pressing her forehead against her arm and the wall above the phone. She closed her eyes tightly, concentrating on trying to hear what Julius was saying. Jon and Steve were in the kitchen. Steve was on his feet.

‘Julius!’ Kristin shouted.

‘Heli… n’t… yet,’ she heard him say. ‘… s… dropping… doctor on the team. Elias… alive.’

‘Is he alive? Is Elias still alive?’

‘… hanging in… Coast Guard helicopter’s on its way. The storm… pretty much… down.’

‘Are you going to look for the soldiers?’

‘… es… find people…’

‘I can hardly hear you so I’m going to tell you this, then hang up. The American soldiers are probably no more than about ten to fifteen kilometres from the edge of the glacier, directly above the farm of Brennigerdi. They’re armed, so be careful. They’re digging a German plane out of the ice. It’s up to you what you do but these men may be extremely dangerous. We’re at the foot of the glacier now and we’re going to climb up from this side. Hopefully we’ll meet you up there.’

Again, the line filled with the hiss and crackle of empty space, so she put down the receiver and rejoined Jon and Steve in the kitchen.

‘I think he’s still alive,’ she said, heaving a sigh.

The news had given her a renewed spark of hope, a new burst of strength to carry on. The relief was indescribable; she knew she could not have borne it had he died. Admittedly, the connection had been very poor but she would allow herself no doubts; she was convinced that Julius had managed to save her brother’s life.

‘I think they’re planning to pay the soldiers a visit. We’ll try to rendezvous with them up there.’

‘Good,’ Jon said. ‘I can give you detailed directions. It’s not hard from here.’

‘Kristin, can I have a word?’ Steve said, and asked Jon to excuse them. They went into the sitting room. ‘Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?’ Steve said. ‘The rescue team will sort things out. They’ll inform Reykjavik what’s going on. Won’t you wait and see what happens? Going up there ourselves could mean taking an unnecessary risk. There’s nothing more we can do.’

‘I want to see them with my own eyes, Steve. I want to see what kind of people they are. And I want to make sure they don’t get away with what they’ve done. I have to be on the spot to be certain of that.’

Steve was about to object when she went on.

‘You lot can’t be allowed to play your war games wherever you feel like it.’

‘What do you mean “you lot”?’

‘You saw those men at the pub. You know what they’ve done on the glacier. What kind of people would sanction that sort of brutality?’

‘You came to me, Kristin, don’t you forget that.’

‘I came to you for information.’

‘And help. That’s the point. You just can’t stand the fact.’

‘That’s bullshit!’

‘No. I know that attitude. We’re the invaders. We’re the military power. We fight in wars. We’re the bad guys. But as soon as anything goes wrong, we’re expected to save the day. We’re welcome to pump billions into your banana republic, yet you regard us as no better than thugs, fit only to be kept behind a wire fence. We’re welcome to intervene in world wars started by Europe and keep an eye on the Russians and hold down the Arabs but the shit hits the fan the moment…’

‘Fuck you, Steve. Don’t be so sanctimonious. You’re the guys who are forever seeing Reds under the bed, who