Johan steered her to the edge of the dance floor. “Perhaps you are a spy, and he is a policeman hoping to catch you stealing military secrets from the Nazis.”
“Something like that,” she said gaily, and she slipped from his arms.
She walked quickly off the floor and around the bandstand into the trees. She ran across the grass until she came to another path, then she made for a side exit. She looked back: Peter was not behind her.
She left the park and hurried to the suburban railway station across the street from the main line terminus. She bought a ticket for Kirstenslot. She felt exhilarated. She had shaken Peter off.
There was no one on the platform with her but an attractive woman in a sky blue beret.
31
Harald approached the church cautiously.
There had been a shower, and the grass was wet, but the rain had stopped. A light breeze blew the clouds along, and a three-quarter moon shone brightly through the gaps. The shadow of the bell tower came and went with the moonlight.
He saw no strange cars parked nearby, but that did not much reassure him. The police would have concealed their vehicles if they were serious about setting a trap.
There were no lights anywhere in the ruined monastery. It was midnight, and the soldiers were in bed, all but two: the sentry in the park outside the mess tent, and a veterinary nurse on duty in the horse hospital.
Harald listened outside the church. He heard a horse snort in the cloisters. With utmost caution, he stood on the log and peeped over the windowsill.
He could see the vague outlines of the car and the aircraft in the dim reflected moonlight. There could be someone hiding in there, lying in wait.
He heard a muffled grunt and a thud. The noise was repeated after a minute, and he guessed it was Hansen, struggling with his bonds. Harald’s heart leaped with hope. If Hansen was still tied up, that meant Mrs. Jespersen had not yet returned with Peter. There was still a chance Harald and Karen could take off in the Hornet Moth.
He slipped through the window and padded across the floor to the aircraft. He got the flashlight out of the cabin and shone it around the church. There was no one here.
He opened the boot of the car. Hansen was still tied and gagged. Harald checked the knots. They were holding firm. He closed the boot again.
He heard a loud whisper: “Harald! Is that you?”
He shone the flashlight on the windows and saw Karen looking through.
She had been brought home in an ambulance. Her parents had ridden with her. Before they parted, at the theater, she had promised to slip out of the house as soon as she could, and join him in the church if the coast was clear.
He turned off the flashlight, then opened the big church door for her. She limped in, wearing a fur coat over her shoulders and carrying a blanket. He put his arms around her gently, careful of her right arm in its sling, and hugged her. For a brief moment he thrilled to the warmth of her body and the scent of her hair.
Then he returned to practicalities. “How do you feel?”
“I hurt like hell, but I’ll live.”
He looked at her coat. “Are you cold?”
“Not yet, but I will be at five thousand feet over the North Sea. The blanket is for you.”
He took the blanket from her and held her good hand. “Are you ready to do this?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her softly. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Do you? You’ve never said that before.”
“I know-I’m telling you now in case I don’t survive this trip,” she said in her usual matter-of-fact tone. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met, by a factor of ten. You’re brainy, but you never put people down. You’re gentle and kind, but you’ve got courage enough for an army.” She touched his hair. “You’re even nice-looking, in a funny way. What more could I want?”
“Some girls like a man to be well dressed.”
“Good point. We can fix that, though.”
“I’d like to tell you why I love you, but the police could get here any minute.”
“That’s all right, I know why, it’s because I’m wonderful.”
Harald opened the cabin door and tossed the blanket in. “You’d better get on board now,” he said. “The less we have to do once we’re outside in plain view, the more chance we have of getting away.”
“Okay.”
He saw that it was going to be difficult for her to get into the cabin. He dragged a box over, and she stood on it, but then she could not put her injured foot inside. Getting in was awkward anyway-the cabin was more cramped than the front seat of a small car-and it seemed impossible with two injured limbs. Harald realized he would have to lift her in.
He picked her up with his left arm under her shoulders and his right under her knees, then he stood on the box and eased her into the passenger seat on the right-hand side of the cabin. That way, she could operate the Y- shaped central control stick with her good left hand, and Harald, beside her in the pilot’s seat, would be able to use his right.
“What’s this on the floor?” she said, reaching down.
“Hansen’s gun. I didn’t know what else to do with it.” He closed the door. “Are you okay?”
She slid the window open. “I’m fine. The best place to take off will be along the drive. The wind is just right, but blowing toward the castle, so you’re going to have to push the aircraft all the way to the door of the castle, then turn it around to take off into the wind.”
“Okay.”
He opened the church doors wide. Next he had to get the aircraft out. Fortunately it had been parked intelligently, pointing directly at the door. There was a length of rope firmly tied to the undercarriage which, Harald had surmised when he first saw it, was used to pull the aircraft. He got a firm grasp on the rope and heaved.
The Hornet Moth was heavier than he had thought. As well as its engine, it was carrying thirty-nine gallons of petrol plus Karen. That was a lot to pull.
To overcome its inertia, Harald managed to rock the aircraft on its wheels, get a rhythm going, then heave it into motion. Once it was moving, the strain was less, but it was still heavy. With considerable effort he pulled it out of the church into the park and got it as far as the drive.
The moon came from behind a cloud. The park was lit up almost like day. The aircraft was in full view of anyone who looked in the right direction. Harald had to work fast.
He undid the catch holding the left wing against the fuselage and swung the wing into position. Next, he flipped down the foldaway flap at the inner end of the upper wing. That held the wing in place while he moved around the wing to the front edge. There he turned the lower wing pin and eased it into its slot. It seemed to catch against an obstruction. He had encountered this problem when practicing. He wiggled the wing gently, and that enabled him to slide the pin home. He locked it with the leather strap. He repeated the exercise with the upper wing pin, locking it by stowing the jury strut.
It had taken him three or four minutes. He looked across the park to the soldiers’ encampment. The sentry had seen him and was walking over.
He went through the same procedure with the right wing. By the time he had finished, the sentry was standing behind him, watching. It was friendly Leo. “What are you doing?” he said curiously.
Harald had a story ready. “We’re going to take a photograph. Mr. Duchwitz wants to sell the aircraft because he can’t get fuel for it.”
“Photography? At night?”
“It’s a moonlight shot, with the castle in the background.”
“Does my captain know?”
