I stared at him. I had no doubts about the truth of what he said. It all fitted in so easily with what I knew. It couldn't have happened any other way. Farnell had probably met Sunde or Storjohann at the whaling station when he was reporting for duty on board the catcher. Then, when his plan to get to the Shetlands failed, he had remembered the divers. He had probably known where they would be working and had planned his desperate escape from the catcher with that fact in his mind. Yes, it all fitted in. And I cursed under my breath to think that I had been talking to Lovaas on board his catcher and the man, locked up in the cabin below decks, had been Farnell himself. If I'd made Lovaas a high enough offer… But I hadn't. And now Farnell was up in the mountains, on the run with the police after him for murder — for murdering himself, It was a ridiculous situation. 'Where is he now?' I asked.
'I tell you — in the mountains.'
'Yes, but where?'
Again that crooked smile of his. 'First we go to Aurland.'
'And then?'
'Then we will see.'
I watched him, wondering what he was after. His eyes were black in the glare of the lights. His withered hand was crooked like a claw. In some peculiar way he was enjoying the situation. 'Get Sunde,' I told Dick.
When the diver came in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, I said, 'Where's Farnell — Bernt Olsen? Is he at Aurland?'
Sunde's eyes opened wide with surprise. 'Ehe, who's bin tellin' yer-' Then he broke off, staring at Dahler. 'Oi told yer not ter tell 'em nuffink,' he muttered angrily.
'Then he is at Aurland?'
The diver's expression became obstinate.
I caught Dick's arm. 'Fetch the chart, will you?' I said.
When he returned I spread the sheet on the table. Aurland was farther up the Sogne — the next fjord to the south. I looked up at Sunde. 'Have you any relations at Aurland?' I asked.
'No.' His voice was sullen.
'Has Sandven or Storjohann?'
He didn't answer.
'All right,' I said. 'We go to Aurland.' I looked at the chart again. Dahler had said Farnell would be up in the mountains. From Aurlandsvangen a valley ran up to Vassbygden and from there he could go on up the Stenbergdal to… My eyes followed the possible route with sudden excitement, for the Stenberg valley led up into the mountains towards Finse and the Jokulen. I looked across at Dahler. 'Farnell would know people up at Finse, wouldn't he?'
He smiled, but said nothing. He was like a cat — a cat that had been presented with a dish of cream. I could almost hear him purring. Damn the man! What infernal pleasure did he get out of the situation? I looked down at the map again. The railway running through Finse was marked quite plainly. That would be the Bergen-Oslo railway. I looked up at Dahler again. It would be quite easy to reach Finse from Bergen. And Jorgensen was at Bergen. 'Who did you telephone from Fjaerland?' I demanded.
He smiled. But he made no reply.
A sudden anger seized me. I wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him till he answered. 'Was it Jorgensen?' I asked, gripping the edge of the table.
'Why should I telephone Jorgensen?'
I straightened up. Why should he telephone Jorgensen? He hated the man. What had made me think he'd telephone him? I was being a fool. I looked round at the others. They were all tense, all watching Dahler. Jill's face was white, like the little church at Fjaerland in the moonlight. 'We'd better all get some sleep,' I said. 'We only need two on watch at a time.'
Dick handed me a tumbler of whisky. I drank it off and went up on deck. The moon stood like a silver ball above the white snows of the Jostedal. It struck down the fjord, turning the water to a bright glade of light between the sombre mountains. 'Call me at six,' I told Wilson. Then I went below again.
The saloon was empty. The tumblers rattled on the table to the shaking of the engine. Sunde was already back in bed when I slid open the door of my cabin. I sat down on his bunk and explained just why I wanted to contact Farnell. But all I got out of him was a promise to let me talk it over with his partner.
I undressed and got into my bunk. I was tired, but my mind was too full of problems for sleep to come easily. I lay in the dark, listening to the juddering of the engines and thinking of Farnell climbing up through the valley to the snow-capped mountains. Thank God I could ski. Then I was asleep and the next thing I remember was Dick shaking me. 'Come up on deck — quick,' he said. His voice was excited.
I jumped into some clothes and hurried after him up the companion. It was just past six and the sun was rising behind the mountains over our stern. Wilson was still at the wheel. Dahler was leaning against the chartroom, his small, crippled figure bundled up in a duffle coat that reached almost to his ankles. We were off to Balestrand. The white facade of the Kviknes Hotel showed bright in the glowing light.
'Look!' said Dick, clutching my arm and pointing for'ard.
Ahead of us lay the wide sweep of the Sognefjord. And fine on our port bow the grey shadow of a whale catcher showed, against the darker background of the mountains. It was tearing up the fjord at full speed like a corvette, a high bow wave showing white against its grey paint.
I dived for the chartroom and got the glasses. The twin lenses brought the catcher close and on the side of the bridge I was able to pick out the name Hval 10. I put the glasses down and looked at Dahler. He was watching me. 'So that's who you telephoned,' I said.
He turned his head and stared down the fjord towards the catcher. I took a step towards him and then stopped. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to get hold of his scrawny little neck and shake him until he was senseless. But it wouldn't do any good. 'Dick,' I said. 'Take Dahler below and have him fix some breakfast. Send Sunde up to me.' I went aft then and relieved Wilson at the wheel.
When Sunde came up, I pointed to the catcher. 'That's your friend Dahler's doing.' I said.
'No friend of mine,' he answered.
'He telephoned Lovaas — yesterday, from the hotel.' I seized his shoulder and swung him round. 'Listen!' I said. 'We've got to get to Farnell before Lovaas does. Do you understand?'
He nodded.
'We'll pick your partner up either on the way or at Aurland. If we don't will you guide me to Farnell?'
'Yes,' he said. Then he looked at the slim lines of the catcher ploughing up the water as it raced down the fjord. 'Lovaas is a proper bastard.' He turned to me again. 'Mr Gansert,' he said, 'I'll do anyfink you say, 'cos Oi reckon you're the only bloke wot can get Bernt Olsen safe a't o' Norway. Pity we didn't know you was a friend o' his. We could 'ave smuggled 'im aboard your boat instead of runnin'
'im up inter the mountings.' He struck his fist violently against the chartroom roof. 'Ter fink o' Bernt Olsen on the run again. As if 'e 'adn't 'ad enough of it during the bleedin' war. Peer and Oi worked wiv 'im up 'er in the mountings. We was busy derailing trains on the Bergen-Oslo line at one time. Olsen was a brave man. The Jerries caught 'im, but they couldn't make 'im talk. Me an' me partner owe our lives to him. An' a'terwards, 'e still went on working wiv us, till we was sent down to Bergen to sabotage shipping.' He seized my arm. 'Oi don't care wevver 'e did kill Schreuder. It was no more than wot the little swine deserved. Schreuder was up at Finse working for the Jerries. Oi don't care wot Olsen done. If Oi can 'elp 'im ter escape, Oi will.'
The violence in his voice surprised me. 'Why did you tell Dahler where Farnell had been taken?' I asked.