Southtrap

'Go on. This was all before my time.'

He became more animated, as if the memory of the action had given him a shot in the arm, a stimulant even more effective than the schnapps.

'You must have heard about it. The Royal Navy was superb in action during the First Battle of Narvik. One of your destroyer captains won a Victoria Cross.'

'Sorry. My history doesn't run to that.'

'Well, the Germans grabbed the port of Narvik. There was a whole squadron of their destroyers. Then the British broke in through the fjord in the snow and the mist — very brave, very daring. There was shooting, shooting, shooting. Every warship fired torpedoes. The harbour was full of torpedoes. It was all darkness and confusion and we snatched one before we escaped with the factory ship. A piece of cake, as you say, in all the smoke and shooting and snowstorms.'

'You — took — a live — torpedo — as- a- souvenir!'

'Yes. It was floating around near a quay.'

I sat and stared at him.

'You don't believe me?'

'I most certainly don't believe you. No one would be crazy enough to risk a torpedo with a live warhead which was liable to go up at any moment.'

He laughed. 'You're smart and you're tough but you're not very old and you don't know everything. I'll tell you. The Germans were using magnetic pistols to trigger the warheads. Narvik is very far north. In high latitudes the pistols were affected by the magnetic field. It would be just the same very far South. They failed to explode. It was safe enough.'

'Okay, I'll buy it,' I retorted. 'And subsequently this souvenir was valuable enough to you and Prestrud and Torgersen to risk your chances of escape by taking it along with you.'

He chuckled, and I realized I wasn't getting anywhere. 'Yes, we valued that torpedo a lot, Prestrud and Torgersen and I.'

I struggled to regain the advantage I knew I'd lost, but at what point in our exchange I did not know.

'Listen,' I resumed. 'When Captain Prestrud spoke to me for the last time he was definitely feeling guilty about something. Guilty enough to want to get it off his chest to a comparative stranger. It was something to do with your escape. What was it?'

Jacobsen froze. He said heavily, 'There was nothing for us to feel guilty about.'

'Torgersen knocked down the quisling radio-operator — did he kill him? Or did you and Captain Prestrud?' I pressed him. 'He mentioned having done something which was justified at the time. If that means killing a man in war-time…'

'No one killed him,' broke in Captain Jacobsen. 'He was only stunned. We took him along with us. That's all.'

He clammed up completely, and I began to be afraid that he would actually walk out.

I took a shot in the dark. Torgersen got killed later.'

'Aye,' retorted Jacobsen savagely. 'We ought to have killed that quisling Rolf Solberg at the time. Torgersen and I wanted to but Prestrud had a soft heart. We let him live. And thirty years ago today he killed Torgersen. It was after the first of our get-togethers.'

'Yes, Captain Jacobsen?' I said encouragingly.

'We three decided that after the war we would foregather once every five years on the anniversary of our escape from the German raider. The first celebration was held in our home port, Sandefjord.'

I gestured at the picture on the panelling that Linn had pointed out to me. Jacobsen nodded. That's the place. But our gathering was before Prestrud married and had a home. We celebrated it as comrades-in-arms should. Next day Torgersen was found in his hotel stabbed to death. I think Rolf Solberg must have been temporarily insane when he did it. He left clues everywhere. The police had no difficulty in tracking him down.'

Apparently unrelated circuits in my brain started to make contact.

'You say he was stabbed to death. What sort of knife?'

He thought a while and then replied, 'I don't think the police ever found the murder weapon. I can't remember it on exhibit in court when he was tried.'

'It wasn't a knife with a carved handle and a killer whale engraved on it?' I asked.

'No. I'm quite sure now. There was no knife exhibited at his trial.'

'You were at Solberg's trial, of course?'

'Prestrud and I were key witnesses. Solberg was sent to prison for life. He's probably still there.'

I fired my next question, 'What did you and the other two skippers actually do to the unfortunate Solberg?'

Jacobsen gave a half-roar, half-grunt, like an elephant seal. 'Unfortunate! We ought to've killed him! I said so then and I say so now! He got what he deserved.'

'What was that, Captain Jacobsen?'

He shrugged. 'It all happened a long time ago. There's no point dredging it up now.'

The man's silences were as solid as he was. I tried another tack.

'See here, Captain Jacobsen. Captain Prestrud tried desperately to tell me something, but he didn't make it. But he did warn me with all the strength he had left to stay away from Prince Edward Island.'

Questioning Jacobsen was like sounding unknown waters with a hand lead-line. You never knew when you would strike a shoal or deep water.

'He was my good friend and comrade for many, many years. It was a good thing he told you that.'

'Why, Captain Jacobsen? Why!'

He remained unresponsive and withdrawn.

I threw out a fresh probe. 'But in spite of that warning, this ship is bound for Prince Edward Island. And for tonight Captain Prestrud had planned another anniversary celebration of your escape — a very special one — thirty years to the day, as you said yourself. What is it about Prince Edward Island that meant so much to both of you?'

He replied sullenly, 'There's nothing there any more. Nothing!'

'Any more?' I pressed him. 'Any more? What was there, then?'

'Nothing.' But he was lying. He got to his feet.

I went quickly to the chart cabinet. He turned to see what I was doing, so that he faced away from the door.

It opened. Wegger took a step in. I looked up. 'Yes…?'

He wasn't looking at me but in Captain Jacobsen's direction. Without replying, he turned on his heel and was gone, banging the door shut behind him.

I was too preoccupied to worry about Wegger at this moment. I found the general chart showing the Sub-Antarctic islands. Jacobsen joined me at the table and I deliberately kept the chart flat while I stabbed it with my finger.

'Where did all this take place?'

'Here. Quite close to Prince Edward Island.'

'Ah!'

I let the printed lettering at the top unroll itself into his line of vision. 'Teddy. Atlantis-Pinguin-Sibirien. January 14th 1941.'

He stared at it, shaken. 'Where did you get this?'

'It belonged to Captain Prestrud.'

He read the words aloud, "Teddy. Atlantis-Pinguin-Sibirien." These are all forgotten things from a long-forgotten past.'

'Maybe. But I'd still like to know about them. Teddy is the name of a ship, I know that much. And Pinguin was the raider which captured the whaling fleet.'

'Aye,' he agreed. 'Aye. The Teddy was a tanker, so it seemed…'

'So it seemed?'

'She sailed with us — eleven catchers and the factory ship Pelagos from Narvik after the battle. Outwardly Teddy was a tanker. But underneath…' He shrugged. 'It doesn't matter any more if I tell you. She was the flagship of the Free Norwegian Navy. She was fitted with gun positions and everything for a warship. Sol-berg — the bastard!'

'What did he have to do with Teddy?'

'He'd been her radio operator before the war. He knew she was a warship. When he went over to the Germans, he gave her away. The German Naval High Command was on the look-out for her. She was captured by the raider Atlantis in the Indian Ocean when she was on her way to protect the whaling fleet in Antarctica. Teddy was carrying the overall master-plan for the Free Norwegian Navy, and the details of the whaling fleet's rendezvous-point near Prince Edward. Atlantis seized the lot. As if that wasn't enough, Solberg also turned the Pinguin on to our fleet by chatting in Norwegian over the R/T and pretending to be another big factory ship called the Harpon which was due to join us from South Georgia.'