The Blue Ice

'I tell you nothing,' he answered sharply. Then his brows dragged down over his eyes. 'Why do you talk so loud, eh? And why is it Kaptein Lovaas this and Kaptein Lovaas that? What are you up to, Mr Gansert?'

'Ah — so it is you, Mr Gansert?'

The voice came from behind me. But it was not the voice I had expected. I swung round. Dahler was standing in the doorway. His small figure was covered in snow. His features were grey, the line about the mouth deeply etched. And he was smiling that crooked enigmatic smile of his. 'Jorgensen has not arrived, eh?'

'Jorgensen?'

'Yes. He has not arrived?'

'No,' I said.

'Good. I am glad. I followed him up from the hotel. Then I lose him in the snowstorm. He will arrive soon, I think.' He lowered his rucksack on to the table and went over to the fire, rubbing his withered hand. 'So, you have arrived, eh?' was his greeting to Lovaas.

'Ja. I have arrived and I have lost one of my men.'

'How did you lose him? There has been trouble, eh?' He glanced quickly from Lovaas to me. 'Who has been hurt?'

I did not reply.

'Where is Sunde?' he asked. 'Did he not go with you Mr Gansert?'

'He is at Steinbergdalen,' I replied.

'So.' He looked up at Lovaas, cocking his head on one side like a curious raven. 'Where's Farnell?'

'I do not know,' Lovaas replied in a surly voice. It was clear he did not like Dahler. But faced by the cripple his bluster left him. It was as though he were afraid of the man.

'I do not know!' Dahler mimicked. 'Well, you should discover what has happened. Jorgensen will be here soon. Then there will be trouble. He is not a forgiving man, Kaptein Lovaas. You may have got in his way. And the police are with him.'

'The police?' Lovaas growled. 'Coming up here?'

'No. They are down at the hotel. But Mr Jorgensen has told them to stand by to make other arrests than the man known at the moment as Schreuder.'

Lovaas hesitated. Then abruptly he moved away from the fire. 'Kom, Halvorsen. Vi ma ga.'

Dahler caught at his arm with his sound hand. The withered claw remained held over the red-hot top of the stove. 'A moment, Kaptein Lovaas,' he said. 'You go too fast. Jorgensen has said nothing to the police — not yet.' Dahler's small, black eyes were watching the whaler's face.

'What are you suggesting?' Lovaas asked. His voice sounded nervous — ill-at-ease.

'I am suggesting nothing,' Dahler replied slowly. 'If you had caught Farnell — then it would be different. Then you would be safe. You were always too hasty, you know Kaptein. You must always rush things. You should have kept within the law. Or if you wished to go outside it — then you should do so with success, eh? If you had obtained what Mr Jorgensen, and Mr Gansert here, want from Farnell — then you would be justified. Without that — ' He hesitated. Then he said quietly, 'But it is a long way from here to the hotel, where the police are. And there is a snowstorm.' He paused significantly, watching Lovaas like a cat.

Was he trying to get Lovaas to kill Jorgensen? What was it that drove the man so? Hatred of Jorgensen? Desire to prove his innocence? What made him follow Farnell, planning his destruction, yet seeking his help as he had sought it during the up here in the mountains? I remembered what Sunde had said: 'Dahler — I reckon he's mad.' That was the only explanation. What he had suffered during the war had effected the balance of his mind. Maybe he had sold secrets to the enemy. But he didn't believe he had. He had thought himself into the desperate certainty that his innocence could be proved and that Farnell could do it. And he, like Farnell, was prepared to do anything to gain his own ends. Jorgensen was to him a symbol of something he hated and wished to fight — Jorgensen, who had been successful, who had taken the long view. He tried to kill Jorgensen out there in the North Sea during the storm. Of that I was certain now. And he was playing Lovaas off against Jorgensen, hoping against hope that Jorgensen would get hurt in the clash. Yes, he was mad.

He suddenly turned towards me. 'So you did not catch up with your friend Farnell, eh? And where is he now, I wonder?'

'Half-way to Finse, I should think,' I answered.

He nodded. 'Perhaps.' He glanced at his watch. 'It is just after eleven. The train from Oslo comes through Finse at twelve-thirty. Allow that it is half an hour late — our State Railways are always late. He has two hours. I think perhaps he will make it.' He glanced up at Lovaas who had started to move towards his rucksack. 'And the police will be on that train, Kaptein Lovaas.'

Lovaas halted. Then he came slowly back towards Dahler. I could see by his face that he wanted to strangle the cripple. And yet something stopped him. There was something about Dahler's eyes that was cold and dead, yet strangely excited. The net is drawing round him, you see,' he said with a little laugh. 'All around you, eh?'

There was the sound of skis being placed against the side of the hut. Then the outer door closed, there was a stamp of nailed boots and then the inner door opened and Jorgensen came in. His tall figure looked a little lithe and active in a white ski suit. His leathery features seemed darker than usual against the white of the snow that clung to him. He stopped and looked round the room — first at Jill and myself, then at Lovaas and his mate, finally at Dahler. 'Where is he?' he asked. Then he turned to me. 'You followed him, Mr Gansert. Did you catch up with him?'

'You mean Farnell?' I asked.

'Of course.'

'How did you know I followed him?'

'Norway is a small country for its size, Mr Gansert. I can keep track of anybody if I wish to. I see from your expression you were not successful.' He turned to Lovaas. 'So you did not obey my instructions, eh? I told you to await orders at Bovaagen Hval. But you decided to play your own hand. Well Kaptein Lovaas, play it. But be careful.' His voice was suddenly harsh. 'I am not a person to disregard — unless you are successful. And I don't think you have been successful.' He turned to me again, ignoring Dahler entirely. 'Where is Farnell now?'

'Somewhere out there,' I said indicating the snow-lined windows.

He nodded. 'Aurland, Osterbo, Gjeiteryggen, Sankt Paal.' He spoke the names softly as though to himself. 'Then he will make for the railway. Good.' He nodded as though satisfied with his arrangements. Then he turned to Dahler. 'I should advise you to leave the country. Leave with Mr Gansert.'

'Are you having me thrown out?' I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. 'Good heavens, no,' he answered with pained surprise. 'But now that your mission has failed you will naturally wish to go back to England — to start on your Mediterranean trip. I do not imagine Sir Clinton Mann will finance you indefinitely in Norway. Had you been successful in your mission — ' He shrugged his shoulders. Then it would have been different. Then we might have been business associates. As it is — ' He left the rest of the sentence unfinished.

'But you will still need finance,' I said.

'Perhaps.'

'Sir Clinton Mann would be willing to discuss business on my Recommendation,' I added. 'The only thing that held us up before was the feeling that you were insufficiently informed about the nature and location of these thorite deposits.'

And then suddenly Jill spoke. 'But Mr Jorgensen, you still do not know where the deposits are.'

He frowned. 'The police will pick Farnell up on the train, Miss Somers.'

'Possibly,' she replied. 'But how will you make him talk?'

'Oh, he will talk.' He took a step towards her. 'Listen, Miss Somers. George Farnell is wanted for murder. He may be tried as Schreuder for the murder of George Farnell. Or perhaps he will be tried as George Farnell for the murder of Schreuder. It is immaterial. He will be offered a free pardon if he is willing to assist Norway.'

'Does your conscience never worry you, Knut?' Dahler asked with that crooked smile of his.