Ferdy was a long and difficult process but the pain of his ankle brought him almost back into the world again.
'Put me down,' whispered Ferdy as I shuffled along, half-carrying him. His arms were clasped round my neck, and only infrequently did his good leg assist our progress.
'Put me down and let me die,' said Ferdy.
'Listen, Ferdy,' I said. 'You'd better pull yourself together, or I'D do exactly that.'
'Put me down,' said Ferdy, and he gave a long groan of pain and weariness.
'Left, right, left, right, left, right,' I called loudly. He couldn't do much about the rights, but with a bit more nagging I was able to persuade him to take Ms weight on his left foot now and again.
I was kidding myself, if I thought that I could get as far as we could see. And there was no submarine nearer than that. I stopped. But just holding Ferdy upright took more of my strength than I could spare.
'Schlegel will be searching for us,' I said.
Ferdy groaned, as if to indicate that he'd rather be left there than rescued by the dreaded Schlegel.
'Left, right, left, right, left, right,' I continued.
Sometimes the wet grey mist wrapped itself round us so completely that we had to stop and wait for the wind to find us a path through it.
'For God's sake, Ferdy, take some of your weight.'
'Cinnamon toast,' said Ferdy.
'Damn right,' I said. 'It's all that bloody cinnamon toast.'
Sometimes I stopped even when the mist did not force us to. I stopped to recover my breath, and, as time went on, the stops became more and more frequent. But at least Ferdy was not demanding to be abandoned in the Arctic wastes, It was a good sign, I thought, perhaps not unconnected with thoughts of cinnamon toast.
It was getting darker and darker all the time and I was frightened of losing my sense of direction as already I had lost all track of time.
Once I thought I heard the sound of whistles. I stopped. 'Listen. Ferdy: whistles.'
But it was just the shriek of the wind, playing the sharp fluted ice.
'Left, right, left, right.'
By now I was croaking the tune for myself, more titan for Ferdy. I was commanding my own feet to crunch down into the unending snow. As it got darker I was more and more often blundering into ice ridges that came out of the mist at us, for all the world like ships steaming through a fog. 'Here's another, Ferdy,' I said. 'Left, right, left, right, left, right. No slackening of pace. You're doing well, old son.'
And so when I saw the bright-red flares ahead of me, it was just another ship in the convoy. 'Left, right, left, right, left, right.' And the whistles were just the wind. So Ferdy and I pressed on through them, even when the ice ridges steered two points or more to ram us, or those icy ships were tearing at our clothes. 'Left, right, left, right. Pick your bloody feet up, Ferdy, you bastard, and take a bit of your two hundred pounds of cinnamon toast on your good ankle, for a change.'
Slabs of up-tilted ice — as big as a man — were on every side of us. It was difficult to pick a way through them. I used an outstretched hand to steady myself, as in the half-light the ice seemed to place itself in our path.
'Not much farther now, Ferdy,' I coaxed him. 'I can almost smell that damned toast.'
'Are they both crazy.' It was the Captain's voice.
'Left, right,' I said pushing my way past the ice but snagged upon it, I felt myself stamping the same piece of snow.
'Help me with the big fellow.' It was the voice of the doctor. 'Dead — done for long since.'
Schlegel's voice said, 'No goggles — snow blind and concussed. Have you got a needle with you, Doc?'
Somewhere nearby there was another signal flare and I could see that all right. I struggled to get free.
'Wasted effort,' said the voice of Schlegel. 'Carrying him all that time — what a state he's in.'
'Probably wasn't dead when they started.'
'Maybe not, Doc.'
'Let go of Foxwell.' It was Schlegel shouting again, and this time his face was only inches from me. 'You stupid bastard, let go of him, I say!'
Chapter Twenty-one
PRINTOUT (pink sheet total) is the end of game. Subordinate, aggregate and continuous play not included in. PRINTOUT are not part of the game.
Several times I had almost awakened into a hazy snow-white world of ether and antiseptic. Through the window bright sun shone on a world of dark-green pine forests, the trees sagging under layers of snow.
Someone lowered the blinds so that the room filled with soft shadowless light. There was a table with fruit, flowers and newspapers on it. The newspapers were in some unreadable script. At the end of the bed sat a man I recognized. He wore a dark suit and his face was elderly and slightly blurred.
'He's waking up again.'
'Pat!'
I groaned. And now another figure came into view, looming over the end of the bed like a sun rising over the Arctic wastes. 'Wake up, sweetheart, we've got other appointments.'
'I'll pour him some tea,' said Dawlish. There's nothing so reviving as a nice cup of tea. Probably hasn't had a proper one since coming in here.'
'Where am I?' I said, I didn't want to say it but I wanted to know where I was.
Schlegel smiled. 'Kirkenes, Norway. A Norwegian chopper brought you off the submarine a few days ago.'
'Is that right?' I asked Dawlish.
Dawlish said, 'We were worried.'
'I can imagine you were,' I said. 'I catty about ten thousand pounds in government insurance.'
'He's getting better,' said Schlegel.
'If you'd rather we wait…' Dawlish offered.
I shook my head very gently in case it rolled under the bedside cabinet and we had to prod it with sticks to get it out. 'Where's Ferdy?'
'You know where Ferdy is,' said Schlegel. 'You did your best for him — but Ferdy's dead.'
'What for,' I said, 'what the hell for?'
Dawlish smoothed out Ids English newspaper. The headline said: german talks end when red katya walks out.
Dawlish said, 'Stok's people arrested Remoziva's sister yesterday morning. Only thing they could do really.'
I looked from Schlegel to Dawlish and back again. 'So that's what it was all about — the German reunification.'
'They're cagey blighters,' said Dawlish. 'They weren't convinced that the Admiral was coming over to us until they saw that corpse you took out there. They're cynics I suppose, like you, Pat.'
'Poor Ferdy.'
'It was only thanks to Colonel Schlegel that you were saved,' said Dawlish. 'He thought of using the radar, and bullied the Captain into using it so close to their monitors.'
'Bad security, Colonel,' I said.
'We brought some fruit for you,' said Schlegel. 'You want a grape?'
'No, thanks,' I said.
'I told you he wouldn't want it,' said Schlegel.
'He'll eat it,' said Dawlish. 'In fact, I wouldn't mind a grape myself.' He helped himself to two, in rapid
