Stefan stretched out a hand and gripped Palfrey’s arm, ten yards from the barricade.
One man was standing by it, two others began walking away from it and towards Trenborg. Palfrey knew that Stefan was advising him to wait until all three were closer together; he did not move. The couple seemed an unconscionable time away, but turned back at last.
Stefan squeezed Palfrey’s arm.
They moved simultaneously, silent until they reached the edge of the sand dunes; the backs of all three men were turned towards them. Stefan stepped on to the macadamised road and made enough noise to make all three swing round. One man unslung his rifle quickly, but stopped when he saw the gun Stefan pointed at him.
None of them moved, but stared towards him as if they could not believe their eyes.
Palfrey stepped forward and took one rifle away: the others moved to one side, suddenly showing fight, but Stefan stepped forward and sent a sweeping blow with his right arm which knocked one man against the other; both of them went crashing into the poles of the barricades. Their rifles and equipment clinked, there was a gasp of pain from one.
Conroy and Brian came from the side to help finish the work. The resistance, dying before it really came to life, was not attempted again. In stupefied silence the three soldiers were stripped, first of their equipment, then their uniforms. They were all oldish men, only one above medium height.
Their teeth chattered but not with the cold.
Palfrey said: ‘Alex, get into a uniform. Bry, drag these fellows down to the beach, the Dane will be only too glad to lend you a hand.’
He left the men to Stefan, Brian and the Dane while he stripped off his outer clothes and donned those of the tallest guard. The clothes were a tight fit at the shoulder and legs, but wide enough and to spare about the waist. As he was buckling the belt, Conroy said softly: ‘A light on the road. Sap.’
Palfrey looked towards Trenborg, where in the distance the first glow of the headlights of a car showed clearly. Palfrey drew a deep breath and hurried with the task of fastening the equipment. The car drew near enough for them to hear the drone of its engine. When the headlights shone directly on them he was standing stiffly to attention with Conroy opposite him, the lights glinting on their fixed bayonets.
There were vague sounds from the beach, but Palfrey ignored them as he picked up the lantern, waving it as he stepped forward.
The brakes squealed and the car swayed perilously across the road. Conroy jumped out of the way and stumbled on the edge of the road, then fell. A voice swore at him in German from the car and a man poked his head outside the window.
‘Fools, what are you doing? You have no instructions to stop this car!’
Palfrey, doubling round to take Conroy’s place, said hastily: ‘Our instructions were to stop and examine the papers of all who passed by.’ A thin, reedy voice spoke from the back: ‘They are right, they should examine all warrants.’ A rustle of paper followed, and Palfrey shone his torch into the rear of the car. Bright blue eyes, deep-set and small, shone in the light; so did the speaker’s gingerish hair. Next to him was a huddled figure, his face marred by bruises and dried blood. Carlson’s eyes were closed and he seemed unconscious.
Papers were handed towards Palfrey.
Then Conroy recovered from his fall, while from the other side of the car a movement heralded Stefan. Palfrey lowered the rifle and poked the bayonet towards the occupants, saying in English: ‘We certainly were right, weren’t we?’
He saw von Lichner’s eyes widen; a gasp of astonishment sprang from his wide lips. Then Stefan appeared at the other door and wrenched it open. Von Lichner’s right hand moved towards his pocket and the driver made a half-hearted effort to strike Palfrey. Conroy hit the man over the head with the butt of an automatic; one blow was enough to silence him.
Palfrey felt like chuckling aloud.
At the point of the bayonet, he hustled von Lichner towards the beach, while Stefan carried Carlson. Palfrey took some pleasure in pricking the man with the point of his bayonet when his footsteps seemed to falter.
Then the red-haired man made a dive for freedom.
He risked a lunge from the bayonet, sliding to one side and then rushing towards the road. He ran into Conroy, who simply waited in front of him and, when he drew near enough, hit him on the side of the head. It was very simple and effective; von Lichner toppled over sideways and did not try to get up.
They decided to load all the men except von Lichner and Carlson into the back of the big car and to draw the blinds – such staff cars were always fitted with blinds – and leave it to Conroy to get them through. Palfrey wished there were a safer course, but at the moment there was no chance to make more comprehensive plans. But it was still quite dark when the car moved off and Palfrey, Brian and Stefan went back to the boat.
The Dane had tied the arms and legs of von Lichner, who was in the bottom of the boat, neither speaking nor moving. Carlson was also on board. The boat rocked as they climbed in.
Before long, when dawn was beginning to break in the eastern sky, they reached the shadows of the rocks, which stood deep in the water. In a little cove, dark and gloomy in that poor light, they landed, then carried Carlson and von Lichner towards a cave which was larger than their first shelter.
The Dane was anxious to get back. In the half-light, they saw him pulling out into the fjord. Palfrey wondered uneasily
