“Oh, yes, Mr. Duchwitz spoke to him, and Captain Kleiss said there would be no problem.”
“Oh, good,” Leo said, then he frowned again. “It’s strange that the captain didn’t tell me about it, though.”
“He probably didn’t think it was important.” Harald realized he was probably on a loser. If the German military were careless, they would not have conquered Europe.
Leo shook his head. “A sentry must be briefed on any unusual events scheduled to take place during his watch,” he said as if repeating from a rule book.
“I’m sure Mr. Duchwitz wouldn’t have told us to do this without speaking to Captain Kleiss.” Harald leaned on the tailplane, pushing.
Seeing him struggle to move the tail, Leo helped him. Together they swung the back around in a quarter- circle so that the aircraft was facing along the drive.
Leo said, “I’d better check with the captain.”
“If you’re sure he won’t mind being woken up.”
Leo looked doubtful and worried. “Perhaps he’s not asleep yet.”
Harald knew that the officers slept in the castle. He thought of a way to delay Leo and speed up his own task. “Well, if you’ve got to go all the way to the castle, you could help me move this crate.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll take the left wing, you take the right.”
Leo shouldered his rifle and leaned on the metal strut between the upper and lower wings. With the two of them pushing, the Hornet Moth moved more easily.
Hermia caught the last train of the evening from the Vesterport station. It pulled into Kirstenslot after midnight.
She was not sure what to do when she reached the castle. She did not want to call attention to herself by banging on the door and waking the household. She might have to wait until morning before asking for Harald. That would mean spending the night in the open. But that would not kill her. On the other hand, if there were lights on in the castle she might find someone with whom she could have a discreet word, a servant perhaps. And she was nervous about losing precious time.
One other person got off the train with her. It was the woman in the sky blue beret.
She suffered a moment of fear. Had she made a mistake? Could this woman be following her, having taken over from Peter Flemming?
She would just have to check.
Outside the darkened station she stopped and opened her suitcase, pretending to search for something. If the woman were tailing her she, too, would have to find a pretext for waiting.
The woman came out of the station and walked past her without hesitating.
Hermia continued to fumble in her case while watching from the corner of her eye.
The woman walked briskly to a black Buick parked nearby. Someone was sitting at the wheel, smoking. Hermia could not see the face, just the glow of the cigarette. The woman got in. The car started up and pulled away.
Hermia breathed easier. The woman had spent the evening in the city, and her husband had come to the station to drive her home. False alarm, Hermia thought with relief.
She started walking.
Harald and Leo pushed the Hornet Moth along the drive, past the petrol tanker from which Harald had stolen fuel, all the way to the courtyard in front of the castle, then turned it into the wind. Leo ran inside to wake Captain Kleiss.
Harald had only a minute or two.
He took the flashlight from his pocket, switched it on, and held it in his mouth. He turned the catches on the left side of the fuselage nose and opened the cowling. “Fuel on?” he called.
“Fuel on,” Karen called back.
Harald tugged on the pull-ring of the tickler and worked the lever of one of the two fuel pumps to flood the carburetor. He closed the cowling and secured the catches. Taking the flashlight from his mouth, he called, “Throttle set and mags on?”
“Throttle set, mags on.”
He stood in front of the aircraft and swung the propeller. Imitating what he had seen Karen do, he turned it a second time, then a third. Finally he gave it a vigorous heave and stepped smartly back.
Nothing happened.
He cursed. There was no time to deal with snags.
He repeated the procedure. Something was wrong, he thought even as he tried it. Before, when he turned the propeller, something had happened that was not happening now. He tried desperately to remember what it was.
Once again the engine failed to start.
In a flash of recollection he realized what was missing. There was no click when he turned the propeller. He recalled Karen telling him that the click was the impulse starter. Without that, there would be no spark.
He ran to her open window. “There’s no click!” he said.
“Magneto jam,” she said calmly. “It often happens. Open the right cowling. You’ll see the impulse starter between the magneto and the engine. Give it a sharp tap with a stone or something. That usually does the trick.”
He opened the right cowling and shone his flashlight on the engine. The impulse starter was a flat metal cylinder. He scanned the ground at his feet. There were no stones. “Give me something from the tool kit,” he said to Karen.
She found the kit and handed him a wrench. He tapped the impulse starter.
A voice behind him called, “Stop that right now.”
He turned to see Captain Kleiss, dressed in uniform trousers and a pajama jacket, striding across the courtyard toward him, with Leo close behind. Kleiss was not armed, but Leo had a rifle.
Harald stuffed the spanner into his pocket, closed the cowling, and moved to the nose.
“Stand away from that aircraft!” Kleiss shouted. “This is an order!”
Suddenly Karen’s voice rang out. “Stop right where you are or I’ll shoot you dead!”
Harald saw her arm sticking out of the window, pointing Hansen’s pistol straight at Kleiss.
Kleiss stopped, and so did Leo.
Whether Karen knew how to fire the thing, Harald had no idea-but neither did Kleiss.
“Drop the rifle on the ground, Leo,” said Karen.
Leo dropped his weapon.
Harald reached for the propeller and swung it.
It turned with a loud, deeply satisfying click.
Peter Flemming drove to the castle ahead of Hermia, with Tilde Jespersen in the passenger seat beside him. “We’ll park out of sight, and watch what she does when she gets here,” he said.
“Okay.”
“About what happened on Sande-”
“Please don’t speak of it.”
He suppressed his anger. “What, never?”
“Never.”
He wanted to strangle her.
The car’s headlights showed a small village with a church and a tavern. Just beyond the village they approached a grand entrance.
“I’m sorry, Peter,” Tilde said. “I made a mistake, but it’s over. Let’s just be friends and colleagues.”
He felt he did not care about anything anymore. “To hell with that,” he said, and turned in to the castle grounds.
