I Can't Begin to Tell You (32 page)

She wasn’t listening. ‘Maybe Arne. Maybe other people I don’t know about, and who don’t know me. Or you.’

‘That’s war.’

‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’

‘That’s all there is to say.’

‘War absolves one from blame, then?’ She inched closer to him. ‘Are you so sure about
that
?’ Felix didn’t bother to answer. ‘Where do you come from, Felix? Is there anyone you’re worrying about? Or maybe you don’t mind.’

‘Best that way.’

‘But
anyone
, Felix? A mother? A girlfriend. A wife?’

He shrugged, and immediately regretted the gesture which sent pain shooting down his back. ‘One day, maybe, I can tell you.’

‘One day? I’ll keep you to that.’

The nausea was again gaining a hold over him and he pulled himself upright and retched over the side.

Behind him, Eva continued talking, but more to herself than to him. ‘Whatever you say, I was stupid.’

With
an effort, he raised his head from the rail. ‘You can’t think like that or you’ll go mad,’ he said flatly. ‘So don’t.’

That silenced her.

By the time the
Ulla Baden
steamed into the harbour at Malmø, Felix wanted only to die. As they helped him down the gangplank and onto shore, Eva cornered the skipper: ‘How did you stop the dogs finding us?’

The skipper’s tense, salt-flayed features relaxed a trifle. ‘We throw a mixture of rabbit’s blood and cocaine over the deck. It numbs their noses.’ His huge shoulders shook. ‘They can’t smell a thing and they’re off their heads.’

For the first time in weeks, Felix laughed properly.

‘Hurry,’ said the skipper. ‘We’re running guns back and we need to make the tides and outwit that out there.’ He pointed out to sea.

Felix looked. To his amazement a belt of fog had appeared from nowhere to blot out the horizon. ‘You’re going back in that?’

‘What else?’

‘My God, I admire you.’

The last thing Felix managed to do before he passed out was to write the promissory note for their fare. ‘There’s a contract at the Danish Treasury,’ he said. ‘It will be repaid once the war is over.’

At the first opportunity, Kay went up to the attic room to check it over.

The quilt was tangled on the floor beside a bloodied piece of rag. Looking at this evidence, Kay let out a long breath of there-but-for-the-grace-of-God.

Tanne, darling … where are you?

She picked up the quilt and jumped when something clattered to the floor.

The pistol.

They didn’t even have that.

She pushed it into her pocket. Folding the quilt, she knelt by the chest and stowed it inside. A stale lavender aroma wafted up from the interior of the chest. She leaned over and a hard object pressed into her knee. It was a child’s marble … which had probably belonged to Nils, or possibly to the small, tousle-headed Bror she had been shown in Eberstern family photographs.

Sitting back on her heels, she balanced the marble on her palm and asked it: What now?

The greens and blues to be found in Rosenlund’s lake exploded at its frozen heart. Gazing into it, she knew that, if she could never argue that her previous existence had been monochrome, her life had now taken on different colours.

The marble rolled back and forth in her cupped palm, and the colours appeared to melt into one brilliant medley – just like the fusion of politics, action and emotion into which she had pitched herself.

Should she give it all up? Retrieve what peace of mind there was to be had by becoming a spectator?

Dropping
the marble into the chest, she closed the lid and went downstairs to hide the pistol in her office.

Later in the morning she fetched her jacket and outdoor shoes and automatically whistled for Sif and Thor.

She was forgetting.

There were no answering barks. No clicking of paws over the black and white tiles.

Sif and Thor were dead. Shot in the melée. Apparently Sif had taken her time to die, which Kay could not bear to think about. But when she did think about it, she had the oddest notion that her heart was physically hardening.

It was nearing the end of May before Kay considered it prudent to travel up to København.

If she took a walk on the estate, she glimpsed figures flitting between the trees. Driving to Køge, a black saloon frequently nudged into her sightline in the mirror. Strange clicks could be heard on the telephone.

They were watching for Tanne.

How much of this surveillance fell under Buch’s remit, and how much it was the decidedly more amateur operation of Sergeant Wulf she had, as yet, to work out.

Whoever it was, it was vital to establish in their eyes that she frequently visited København.

Checking into the Damehotellet in København, she phoned Anton in his office.

At half-past seven precisely, dressed for dinner in a long dress and light cape, she arrived at the Hotel d’Angleterre to find him already waiting at the hotel bar.

‘We’re in the lion’s den,’ she said, eyes flicking in the direction of a group of German officers who were at the other end of the bar.

‘Hidden in plain sight,’ he replied.

She glanced down at her feet. ‘Anton, I’m still angry with you. Very. You should never have involved Nils.’

‘He’ll
be fine, so stop it.’ Anton placed a finger under her chin and tilted it up towards him. ‘Now come and sit down.’

He ordered cocktails. Taking a sip of hers, she found herself shivering uncontrollably.

He slid his arm round her. ‘Tell.’

Kay knew he knew about events at Rosenlund. ‘I’m worried sick about Tanne. Most of the time, I cope. But sometimes … I don’t.’

‘I can’t help you. I wish I could.’

‘It feels far worse because she wouldn’t have got into it but for me.’

‘She might have done. Tanne is an adult. She makes up her own mind.’

‘Tanne didn’t make up her mind to be shot at or –’ Kay could not bring herself to say what. ‘You know what they do to prisoners?’

‘As a matter of fact, I do,’ Anton replied calmly. ‘Tucked up in Sweden, she’s probably worrying about you, too.’

She looked down at her glass. ‘I’ve had my life. Tanne is only just beginning hers.’

‘An irritating remark, darling. You’ve had
part
of your life. There’s plenty more to come.’

‘You haven’t had children.’

There was a silence.

‘Kay … Almost certainly, Tanne is in Sweden and there’s no safer place for her.’

‘Thank you for cutting the telephone line. It gave them a breathing space. I was able to say with perfect truth that mice had got at the cables. They do, from time to time.’

‘It’s a basic rule. Cut off the enemy’s communications.’

Kay sipped her martini. ‘That bloody doctor. I’ve trusted him all these years.’

Anton brushed her cheek with a finger. His expression was grim. ‘He should be shot. I could arrange it.’

‘Don’t joke.’

‘I’m
not.’

She looked up into Anton’s face. ‘Help me find her.’

He removed his arm. ‘No. And you must not look for her either. Kay, you have to stay in control. Otherwise we all go down. It’s absolutely imperative we do nothing except look normal. They will be watching. The telephones will have been humming between Køge and here. Probably somebody’s watching us at this moment.’

She glanced at the barman who was polishing the glasses. Him? ‘Bror suspects I’ve put the family and the house in danger.’

‘Have you considered that, if the Nazis lose the war, Bror will have placed you in just as much danger? His name is writ large all over the place.’

Kay fingered her frosted glass. ‘Anton, Bror isn’t corrupt. He isn’t a fascist either. He wants what’s best.’

‘The road to hell, and so on.’

‘Unfair.’

‘Forgive me if I smile, darling. But are you sure you know Bror?’

‘As sure as I am that I know you, Anton.’

‘That’s my point.’

So it was. ‘Could I have another martini, please?’

Anton motioned to the waiter. ‘You know, darling Kay, things might be about to get worse. The Jews … While he’s in charge of Denmark, General Best reckons it’s in his interest to keep the Danes sweet. But we’ve heard tell that his SS friends are keen to go over Best’s head. That will be a problem for the Jews.’

‘How likely is it?’

‘We’ve taken soundings in Berlin. It’s on the cards.’

How had Anton got hold of the intelligence from Berlin? ‘The Nazis can’t do a France or Poland on us, surely?’

‘They can.’

‘Over our dead bodies.’

‘That
might not be a joke.’

Kay thought it over. ‘Do you have to see a lot of General Best?’

‘I make sure I do. It’s my safety net.’ Anton ate his olive.

‘Be careful.’ She felt for his hand. ‘Anton … you will be careful?’

Anton glanced down. ‘I like the hand-holding.’

‘Listen to me. Bror might be in trouble but you might be, too. The army isn’t popular either. Most people don’t like it for supporting the government.’

‘Keep your voice down, darling.’ Anton shrugged. ‘There’s not much the Danish army can do publicly except resign our commissions. Not so clever because it draws attention to us for no good purpose. However, I do know that interested parties are slowly coming together.’

‘Oh?’

A lot of talk. A lot of jostling. A lot of fractious, opposing interests. But was it possible?

Anton continued. ‘Think of one united underground army.’

‘I will.’ She retrieved her hand. ‘You must take care.’

‘I make it my business to look after myself. It’s not much good being dead.’

She nodded. ‘About Bror and Tanne –’

‘Forget Bror.’ Anton cut her short in a voice she rarely heard. ‘He has made his bed.’

The martini arrived, chilly and strong enough to pucker the insides of her mouth.

Anton pinched her olive. ‘You say Tanne’s with Felix. He trained in Britain so there’s a good chance they’ll make for London. The embassy would take care of her there. She won’t starve, she could find a job, and sit the war out. It might be the very thing for her. She might meet an English duke or an earl. Wouldn’t that cheer you up?’ He became serious. ‘What happens to you and Bror is another matter.’

The bar was filing up with well-dressed, animated men and
women in evening dress and uniforms. The waiters clinked glasses, rattled the cocktail shaker, clattered ice. There was an agreeable hum of civilized conversation and laughter. It was a scene with which she was totally familiar, and yet from which she was estranged. Without realizing it, Kay had moved on from this kind of life, exchanging it for one in which she was out in the dark and the unknown, running the gauntlet.

What did they need in this new life? Guns. Explosives. Money.

She leaned over towards him. ‘Listen …’ she said very softly, ‘I’ve an idea for a drop zone. The lake at Rosenlund. Not now maybe, but when things have died down.’

She had taken him completely by surprise. ‘Have you gone mad?’

‘Think about it. It’s reasonably remote, has one good road, plenty of back ones, and would be recognizable from the air.’

Good: she had captured his attention.

‘Attach a buoy to the containers, organize rowers to collect them and hide the stuff on the estate until it can be distributed. But not in winter, of course.’

‘Wouldn’t it take too long to get the stuff out of the water?’

‘If it’s done properly I am pretty sure we could get it out before any vehicle from Køge could get there. Anyway, we could probably leave one or two buoys in the lake. The odds are no one would notice them because they wouldn’t be looking for them.’

Anton stared into his martini. ‘High summer means light nights and the RAF won’t fly. Sitting ducks. Obviously, winter is out. But we still have a few weeks in the early autumn or spring. What about Bror? Won’t you be throwing him to the lions?’

‘Plenty of planes fly over the house. It would be nothing new.’

‘Wouldn’t Bror notice if his dear wife wasn’t in bed with him?’

She allowed the pause to drift on until it became a silence.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘Oh, he’s not in your bed?’

‘Actually
… at the moment, he’s sleeping on the other side of the house.’

‘I see.’ Naturally, this private information amused him.

‘No, you don’t see, Anton.’

‘All right. I don’t see.’

‘I gave him to think that you and I were having an affair. It made it easier.’ She glanced down at her ring. ‘Estrangement is easier.’

The glint in his eye was less amused. ‘Poor old Bror. What crosses he has to bear.’

Anton ordered a third martini for himself.

Kay waited until it arrived. ‘Shall I get the drop zone coordinates to London?’ She mimed playing the piano.

He nodded. ‘They’ll need to send over a reconnaissance plane and check it out before anything can be arranged.’ He watched her over the rim of the glass. ‘Kay, if you’re ever in trouble, I can’t help.’

Anton made such a meal of this. ‘So you’ve said.’

‘If you are in trouble, go to Café Amadeus on the Bredgade and ask for Oskar. Remember that.’

She nodded.

He edged closer and she tried to ward him off, but he said, ‘We’re having an affair, remember?’ His mouth was close to hers. ‘Anything else to report?’

‘London still has to send over the crystals for the new wireless transmitters. Felix thought they would be ready very soon.’

‘Let’s hope so. Never has anything been so keenly anticipated.’ Anton raised Kay’s hand to his lips. ‘For the time being, I suggest you mend a few fences with farmer Bror. Keep on good terms.’

Another silence.

‘Darling, you can swear that I’m a cad and it was my fault. Say whatever you like – you can think of something – but, if I know my cousin, he will fall over himself to give you the
benefit of the doubt. Keeping him sweet gives you room for manoeuvre.’

Her hand remained in his both for comfort and for security. She needed to reassure herself that she could handle what was coming.

She phoned Bror from the Damehotellet to tell him she would be arriving at Køge the following day on the two o’clock train.

She slept fitfully, breakfasted on
ymer
sprinkled with brown sugar and drank two cups of bitter coffee. Checking out of the hotel, she took a taxi to the Gothersgade, where she bought a hat from a favourite milliner. It was a straw one, sufficiently frivolous to be diverting.

Leaving the milliner’s, she flagged down a second taxi and instructed the driver to take her to the university. As she paid him, she glanced towards the university entrance and she almost dropped her purse.

Clutching a sheaf of papers, and accompanied by General Gottfried and a lower-ranking officer, Nils emerged out of the main doorway into the street, where the three men conducted an animated conversation. At one point, Nils stabbed his finger down on a paper. The general nodded. Finally, they shook hands and the Germans got into a car which drove off. Nils transferred his papers from one hand to the other, took the steps back up to the entrance two at a time and disappeared into the building.

The taxi driver’s finger tapped on the wheel and the look on his face was unmistakable.
Stikker
.

Kay snapped her bag shut. That Nils was cooperating was unthinkable. Yet it
was
thinkable, for Nils had his own way of going about things. He lived by his own logic, and saw the world differently. That much was true.

One day there would be retribution. Glancing at the taxi
driver’s grim visage, she had a disturbing vision of post-war Denmark split by additional hatreds and vendettas.

Leaning forward, she instructed him to continue to the station. As he drove off, she did not allow herself to look back.

The road to Køge ran parallel to the railway track for a good portion of the way. Apparently there had been an explosion on it and, while the train did its customary crawl, Kay watched armoured German vehicles speeding to the scene.

Sabotage? She hoped so.

She pressed a finger against the pane. Who would be responsible for it? The communists? The nationalists? The strange organization that she was working for? Felix would be pleased. ‘Sabotage would put Denmark on the map and get London to sit up,’ he had told her once.