The click of a lock sounded through the starlit darkness. The click of a lock or was it the cocking of a gun? We froze in our tracks. There it was again. It came from the house. Sunde suddenly gripped my arm. 'The door,' he said.
The door swung to with a click. A moment later there was a dark gap. Then it swung to again. Someone had left the door to the hut open and it was swinging in the chill breeze. Somehow it made me think of the heels of a hanging man. 'You take the winder,' Sunde said. 'Oi'll take the door.'
I nodded. It was only later that I realised to what extent my weariness had allowed him to assume direction of the situation. I skied up to the dark wall of the hut and then worked my way along. What should we find? That open door — surely Farnell wouldn't have left the door open? Or was he standing there, watching and waiting for visitors?
Sunde's shadow slid up to the door. I saw him remove his skis and creep in through the entrance, pistol in hand. I glided along to the window and peered quickly in. At first glance the room looked empty. But as I drew back out of sight I realised that there had been a bundle of something in the far corner. I looked again. There in the far corner were three rucksacks. Around them lay a litter of clothes and food. There was more, food on the table. And an axe and a pile of logs lay beside the fire. I nearly cut my nose on a broken pane trying to peer more closely into the room. I touched the framework of the window. It moved. I pulled it open and felt the warmth of the fire. The door was flung wide and Sunde stood there, his pistol in his hand. He looked at three rucksacks. Then at me, peering in through the open window.
'So, he's gorn, 'as 'e?'
My numbed mind didn't think as fast as that. All I saw was the warmth of the fire. Farnell could wait. There was no hurry now. There were his rucksacks. He had a warm fire blazing. I thought of a cup of tea. I took off my skis and hurried round to the door. I dragged myself along a dark corridor with little cubicles leading off. Then I was in the room with the fire. I staggered toward it and slipped my rucksack to the ground.
God, it was wonderful, that fire! My numbed body received its warmth with unbelievable gratitude. If I could have purred, my life would have been complete in that moment.
'Can't 'ave left long,' Sunde said, scratching his head and spreading his hands to the blaze. He still had his rucksack on his back. He carried it as though it were part of him.
'What do you mean?' I asked.
Sunde stared at me. 'Gawd!' he said. 'This ain't like you, Mr Gansert. 'Ow many rucksacks d'you see?'
'Three,' I answered sleepily. But some little thought was nagging at my mind, burrowing up into consciousness. Then I got to my feet. 'My God!' I said. 'Three. There should be four.'
He nodded. 'That's roight. They bin ahead o' us.'
'Lovaas?' I asked.
'That's roight. Came in by the winder. Opened it by that broken pane.' He looked at me sharply. Then he dropped his pack to the floor and burrowed deep into one of the pockets. 'Ere, you 'ave a nip o' that, guv'ner,' he said, handing me a flask. 'Oi'm gonna 'ave a look ra'nd.'
I unscrewed the cap and took a swig at the fiery liquor. It was brandy. The fire of it warmed me deep inside. Sunde was back in a few minutes. 'Place is empty,' he said. 'No sign of a struggle. Everyfink in order. There weren't no trouble.' He scratched his head and took a swig at the flask. 'The way I see it, Olsen went part of the way down with Peer an' the others an' then coming back 'e saw Lovaas an' party before they saw 'im. Probably 'e 'ad glasses.' He looked across at me. 'Ow yer feelin', eh?'
'Better,' I said. 'Much better.' What he said seemed to make sense. And it cheered me. For it meant that there was still hope of our getting to Farnell before Lovaas. Farnell warned was a vdry different matter to Farnell lying in a saeter, unsuspecting. I looked into the embers. 'He can't have left long,' I said. 'The fire is too bright.'
'Ere, take anuvver swig o' this.' He passed the flask across to me and, putting his gun down on the table, got out a knife and began cutting bread and butter and cheese from the food on the table. 'We'll 'ave a bite to eat. Then we'll get movin'.'
Get moving! My limbs cried out in one great ache at the thought. But he was right. Our only hope of catching up with Lovaas was to get moving and keep moving. 'All right,' I said and got stiffly to my feet.
And at that moment a voice said, 'Sta stille!'
I saw Sunde freeze in the act of cutting the square slab of brown cheese. He dropped the knife and started for his gun which lay at the other end of the table. 'Sta stille ellers sa skyter jeg.' He stopped and stared at the window. I followed the direction of his gaze. Framed in the opening were the head and shoulders of a man — and the muzzle of a gun. The flickering firelight shone on him with a ruddy glow. His face was dark and bearded. His eyes were like two coals. He wore a fur-skin cap with ear flaps. 'Hva er del De vil?' Sunde asked.
The man's voice was harsh as he replied in Norwegian. And when he finished his teeth showed white in his beard as he grinned.
'What's he say?' I asked.
'E says 'e won't do us no 'arm, s'long as we don't cause no trouble. 'E's the third of Lovaas's party — Lovaas an'
'is mate ave gone on a'ter Farnell. Seems they spotted us just as it were gettin' dark. 'E's bin 'anging ara'nd, waitin' fer us ever since. Gor blimey! Couple o' mugs we are.'
I looked at my revolver. It lay more than a yard away from me. And suddenly a deep sense of drowsiness crept over me. This meant I couldn't go on. I could just stay here and rest. But something in Sunde's eyes caused my lethargy to vanish in a flash. His small body was tense, his hands crooked like claws under the table. 'Kom in,' he said quietly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
On The Sankt Paal Glacier
The man at the window hesitated, considering how best to lever himself through the narrow gap. The room was very still. The only sound was the hiss and crackle of the logs blazing in the stone grate. The flames threw flickering shadows on the walls of the nut. Sunde's motionless figure was a shadowy giant scrawled from floor to ceiling. I felt my limbs relaxing. God, how tired I was! The luxury of knowing that it was impossible to do anything further, that the matter had been taken out of my hands, stole over me in a comforting wave of lethargy. My whole body sighed luxuriously as the muscles relaxed.
But I could sense Sunde's alertness. He glanced at the fire and then back to the window.
The man put both his hands on the window sill. 'Sta stiller he ordered, and his eyes gleamed in the firelight.
Sunde took a step back as though he were scared, tripped over nothing and sprawled flat beside me, his head almost in the grate. The man at the window tensed, the gun gripped in his hand. My stomach turned over inside me. For a moment I thought he was going to fire. 'Hva er del De gjor? he snarled. Sunde moaned. His right hand was almost in the fire. He pressed his left hand over it and squirmed as though in pain. At first I thought he had burned himself. But as he explained what had happened in Norwegian, I saw his supposed injured hand move out towards one of the blazing logs.
I turned back to the window. The man was still watching us tensely. The muzzle of his Luger seemed pointed straight at my belly. The dark metal circle of it gleamed dully in the light of the flames. Then he relaxed. He held the revolver over the sill and, with a quick jerk, lifted his body on his two hands and got his knee on the sill. In that instant, Sunde half rose from the floor. His right hand came up and a blazing log flew like a flaming torch across the room. It crashed against the dark shadow in the window with a burst of sparks and then fell flaming to the floor. There was a cry of pain, a curse, and then the flash and crash of a gun. I heard the thud of the bullet hitting something soft as I rolled over towards my own pistol. Sunde was twisting round by the table. There was another shot from the window. I seized hold of my gun. The rough grip of the butt was comforting to my hand. I pushed up the safety catch. And just as I raised it to fire, there was a stab of flame from beside the table and in the sound of the explosion, there was a ghastly, choking scream and the figure in the gap of the window sagged like a rag doll and then slowly toppled backwards.