The Legion of the Lost Read online

  Certainly they were ripe for revolt; the tragedy was that the revolt had to be postponed, at least until the Allies could bring more than moral support to uphold it.

  The village – or small town – of Valle was new to Palfrey; and in its present guise new to Stefan, whom they met on the outskirts of the place with Conroy, both of them in a small hut used by a farmer, who did his best to wrest a livelihood from the poor soil.

  To the west were large wooden buildings; the drone of machinery came from them all the time. Once, from the door of the hut, Palfrey saw the old men and women streaming to their forced labour at the factory. The Norwegian who had brought them in his creaking cart from Rokn had little to say – he was the grimmest man they had yet met. He hardly spoke and left them soon after they had arrived; but, as Stefan and Conroy were there, little was thought of the man’s surliness – if ‘surly’ were the word, Palfrey mused.

  Conroy, short, well-knit, with a dark-skinned face and black hair, looked out of place in Valle amongst the tall, fair Norsemen, but there were others who had been drafted to Norway, and he was not noticeably different from many people in the crowds which thronged to the factory. Palfrey was further amazed by the fact that there was no great attempt at secrecy. No one inquired who they were, everyone assumed that they were new workers drafted in from other countries. The Germans did not question them, although they had papers which covered them and which would have explained, ostensibly, their mission in Norway. The absolute lack of interest was the most surprising thing.

  Others agreed with Pastor Martin; the best time to travel was by day. By night the terror spread. Palfrey began to understand that it was fear of the night which obsessed these people; and he saw that the haunted expression was in the eyes of the women and the girls perhaps more than the men.

  There was a strange atmosphere, not sullen but bitter. It was electrical, like a storm which was holding itself in suppression but ready to burst with enormous violence at a given moment. It was in the eyes and the demeanour of the people. It was in the Nazis, too, who walked in groups of three or four. Never once at Valle, nor on the way from there to Nisseda, a similar place, nor in Skien, a somewhat larger town of modern buildings and old ones cheek-byjowl, did he see a Nazi soldier alone. Once he passed a camp, wired off from the rest of the country, with perhaps a dozen small huts in one corner. A few scarecrow-like men and women were by the wires, begging piteously for food and money. The guards in the camp seemed to ignore them, as if they knew that there was no one with anything to spare.

  At Skien they boarded a train where, for the first time, officials examined their papers; it was but a cursory examination, the paunchy German who looked at them appeared to be too tired to worry much about it. Palfrey saw five Nazi soldiers, oldish men, grey and haggard, being led away under guard to a carriage further up the train. There was the menace of death over the occupying Germans; Palfrey, who had not dreamed that he would find it so far north, felt a great hopefulness.

  Stefan and Conroy had travelled in a different part of the train, and had not waited for Palfrey and the others. The latter party walked briskly enough; few people looked at them; those who did glanced quickly away when they were seen. On the walls of many of the buildings were great patches of black paint where slogans and defiant signs had been written and then painted over.

  Oslo breathed defiance even in the orderliness of its behaviour.

  Near the station was a small side-turning which had once been Harkenstrasse and had become Libstrasse, the new name sign had been hastily written in red paint.

  It was quiet, there.

  In the café at 18 Libstrasse, they had their next appointment with active agents of the Marquis.

  Stefan and Conroy had already arrived.

  Conroy was subdued because his Norwegian was limited and he was not a man who took kindly to enforced silence. They had seen no one except a little hunch-backed girl who had come to ask them their business; they had sent a message to the owner of the café, a man named Orleck. From the distant main streets the hum of traffic came clearly, and when eventually Orleck entered the room he did so very softly; only Palfrey saw him before he spoke. Palfrey had never seen a man who looked less trustworthy. There was a crafty glint in his narrowed eyes and his whole face seemed twisted. A stab of doubt entered Palfrey’s mind as he rose to his feet and returned the salute perfunctorily: so did the others, there was much scraping of chairs on the worn linoleum.

  ‘I am Orleck,’ said the man with the villainous face. ‘You wish to see me? Your papers, please!’ He advanced with a hand outstretched and a leering expression, then looked through the papers one by one. It was the first time they had been subjected to so close a scrutiny.

  Finished, he nodded and said: ‘Follow me.’

  He went out of the door as silently as he had come; he wore carpet slippers which were tied about his ankles by tapes. For the rest, a long, grey coat covered him, leaving only the bottoms of his trousers visible. In a strained silence, Palfrey and the others went after him up a narrow flight of stairs. As they climbed they heard voices, guttural and unpleasant.

  At the first landing a door opened and a thin-faced, lean-bodied man stood on the threshold of a smoke-filled room. His head was almost shaven and his lips were compressed into a thin, colourless line. He was in Gestapo uniform. He did not speak, but looked at each one of them in turn and then, as Palfrey started up the second flight of stairs, he went inside the room again and slammed the door.

  The tension increased when they reached the second landing and followed Orleck into a high-ceilinged room empty of furniture except for a few hard, uncomfortable-looking chairs and a long table. When they had all entered, Orleck said harshly: ‘Close the door, please!’

  Stefan, who brought up the rear, obeyed.

  To Palfrey it seemed that all of them had gone out of their minds. He must have been stultified to have come here and allowed all five of them to gather together. It seemed to him that the villainous face of Orleck was twisted in a gloating leer.

  He spoke again in Norwegian, still harshly, yet sounding more at his ease.

  ‘I will explain. I work for the Germans, that is believed. I have told them that five agents from Germany are coming today to inspect some of the factories. It is quite safe, such parties often come and no one will suspect the truth.’ His leer grew wider, almost diabolic. Now, gentlemen, let us get to the truth. I look everything you do not wish me to be, yes? That is a good thing, because it is easy to feel that I am trusted by the Huns. The danger I meet is from those who are true Norwegians and believe that I am of the Quisling Party. You are safe, I promise you that. I have word that you will give me instructions and will wish for some assistance. What is it, please?’

  Palfrey, bemused, spoke after a moment’s hesitation.

  ‘How far away is the Aalson Hospital?’

  ‘The hospital is near. Whom do you wish to see?’

  ‘We want to find Dr. Raffleck,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘Raffleck? He has not been seen for two months now. He was last known to be working in the research department there, yes! Raffleck. Is he to be the sixth member of your party?’

  Palfrey thought with further relief: ‘So he knows we are fetching someone away—the Marquis hasn’t given him half a story.’ He smiled more freely and said: ‘We hope so.’

  ‘It is a pity,’ said Orleck slowly. We have not heard of him for two months. But I think I can find out for you whether he is still here.’

  Palfrey, aware of disappointment but telling himself it was absurd, said quietly: ‘Good! We shall be happier when we know. And now, it isn’t wise for all five of us to stay here in one party.’

  ‘It is not even contemplated,’ said Orleck, with a touch of dignity which rode strangely upon his frail form. ‘But it was most essential for me to see you, and to be able to recognise each one of you. While we are together, you, Dr. Palfrey, will appreciate that it is a good opportunity to say that today and
tomorrow—just for the two days, the words: “Under the sky” will be in general use among the friends of the people.’ His leering smile showed again. ‘You will guess what I mean by the friends of the people! In Norwegian, you understand.’ He repeated the words again, then darted a sharp look at Conroy. ‘Say it, please!’

  Conroy looked startled but made a fair attempt.

  ‘Others will please teach him to be perfect,’ said Orleck, ‘if he should hesitate or take too long, then the friends of the people might believe that he is not one of their number.’ He paused, then said sharply: ‘Miss Blair, please. You have done some nursing?’

  As startled as Conroy had been, Drusilla admitted that she had.

  ‘That is good,’ said Orleck. ‘There is a great need for nurses at the Aalson Hospital. I will arrange that you go there to assist for one night: actually, your purpose will be to make sure that there is no revolutionary talk amongst the nurses or the staff or the patients.’ He winked, like a fantastic ogre. ‘That can be arranged, and you will be inside the hospital. Which of you, Doctor, will be a patient?’

  Palfrey was smiling then.

  It was not a tentative or diffident one; it was appreciative for he found himself liking this ugly little man and suspected that the other was being abrupt, deliberately, to judge the effect; he was enjoying it. Palfrey felt a wave of relief as well as confidence and answered without hesitation: ‘Stefan. He can curse in Norwegian with anyone!’

  Orleck’s eyes smiled for the first time.

  ‘That is good—Stefan, of course, Stefan Andromovitch. It is a queer parcel of people that you bring, Doctor! So—Stefan will be the patient, Miss Blair the nurse. You, please, and Conroy will stay here. For Mr. Debenham’ – obviously he took a delight in using the English prefixes – ‘what, now, can we find for Mr. Debenham? He is a very good Saxon type, yes! He could mix with the guards at the hospital, even inspect them. An emissary from Berlin, come to report on the way they behave. Are you satisfied, Dr. Palfrey?’

  ‘More than satisfied,’ said Palfrey quietly.

  ‘That is good. Then I will go to make the final arrangements. Downstairs where they are drinking and gambling and trying to drown their fears, they will all the time be wondering what you are planning for them. For I have let it be known that most important emissaries have come from Berlin, as I told you. What do you say? They will be shaking in their shoes, yes?’

  Stefan, nearest the door, said very gently: ‘Will they?’

  The others turned and stared at him, but saw only his back. He was stretching out his hand towards the door. Palfrey, guessing what was in his mind, began to talk swiftly in Norwegian of instructions from Berlin. Stefan turned the handle of the door and pulled it open.

  The thin-faced Gestapo man was standing back, looking startled, his lips parted. For perhaps thirty seconds no one spoke; Palfrey half expected to hear the man roar for others but a moment later the Gestapo agent’s right hand was raised as he muttered:

  ‘Heil Hitler!’ There was no life in it. ‘Herr Orleck, I came to ask if you would be good enough to—’

  ‘You came to ask?’ demanded Orleck softly as he rose to his feet with his eyes glittering. ‘You came to ask? You came to spy, you mean! You came to find whether I have reported well on your work. Come inside, swine, come inside and submit to the interrogation of His Excellency. Come inside!’

  In Orleck’s voice there was so deep a contempt, so coarse a hatred, that it startled Palfrey, who was some seconds before beginning to wonder whom Orleck meant by ‘His Excellency’. Then he realised that Orleck was putting up a bluff, admirable in conception, but not necessarily so in execution.

  Chapter Four

  Stefan Acts a Part

  There was an exchange of glances between Orleck and Stefan as the latter turned from the door. Stefan rasped, in fluent German: ‘Your papers, quickly!’

  ‘At once, Excellency!’ The thin-lipped man sprang to attention and saluted, then realised that he had not been told to do that, and fumbled with the button of a pocket-flap. Stefan knocked his hand away and wrenched the button off.

  ‘Now perhaps you can reach your papers!’ he roared.

  ‘At—at once, Excellency!’ The man’s fingers trembled as he took out a wallet. Stefan snatched it away from him, then shook the contents out on to the bare table. Two obscene postcard photographs fell face upwards. Stefan picked them up contemptuously and tore them across and across. Then he took up the man’s papers and began to read them. Palfrey saw that his victim’s eyes were almost starting from his head – they were turned towards the other contents of the wallet, not the official passes.

  ‘So—Ulrich Romberg, officer of the Third Reich,’ sneered Stefan, ‘a very faithful servant of the Third Reich, I have no doubt. Otherwise you would not be sitting in a room with a crowd of other lazy, good-for-nothing dolts, smoking, card-playing, wasting the time which you have been given in which to serve your country.’

  ‘You will recall,’ said Orleck in his cracked voice, ‘that Romberg was amongst those I named in my report, Excellency, as being suspected of taking bribes to permit breaches of the rules governing Norway. ‘I tabulated his offences. They included—’

  ‘It is a lie!’ gasped Romberg. ‘Herr Orleck has been misinformed, Excellency.’

  ‘We shall see,’ said Stefan, then gathered all the papers together in his large hands. ‘Which of these are you so anxious for me not to see, Romberg?’

  The room was very quiet.

  Stefan tossed paper after paper aside and then came to a small, folded card. Romberg’s thin neck worked; his Adam’s apple fluttered up and down; there was abject terror in his eyes. Stefan glanced up at him quickly, making the man jump and open his mouth. Then the Russian’s eyebrows were raised.

  ‘So?’ he said. He opened the card and began to read. His frown deepened. ‘So?’ he muttered again, in a deeper voice, continuing in a tone which seemed to tremble with outraged righteousness. ‘You are a good servant of the Reich, Romberg. Here are instructions to your men, also to officials generally, to allow certain enemies of the Reich to remain at large on payment of certain sums. On payment of certain sums! Regularly, for a month, they are allowed to remain free on such a consideration!’

  ‘They—they are allowed to be free so that they can be watched and possibly lead to the apprehension of others, Excellency,’ gasped Romberg. ‘The money is taken from them to make them careless, only that—to make them careless!’

  Stefan glared at him, then flung the card into his face, swept his left hand round and gave the man a flat-handed blow; from Stefan it was one of such power that Romberg went reeling against the wall; he cowered against it, muttering under his breath.

  Stefan turned to Orleck.

  ‘It was time I came,’ said Stefan harshly, ‘past time I came. Send for men to take him away,’ he added imperiously. ‘The sight of the dog nauseates me.’

  ‘At once, Excellency!’ said Orleck.

  He broke into a shuffling run which looked more odd because of the long coat flapping about him. He opened the door and hurried away, while Romberg, perspiring freely, and gasping for breath, stared at Stefan but said nothing. He looked as if he were sure that his last day had come.

  Two uniformed men came in with Orleck; they wore the uniforms of the Quisling Party and both were middle-aged.

  Romberg was seized; his hands were locked into handcuffs, and he was led roughly away. Orleck closed the door very softly behind him, his hands sliding against each other.

  ‘That was good, very good!’ he said softly. ‘We shall be able to work together very well, I can see that.’

  At intervals during the next hour, Drusilla, Brian and Stefan left 18 Libstrasse to take up their respective posts. Palfrey and Conroy, left alone in the long, bare room when Stefan had gone, looked out of the window and conversed in whispers. ‘We see plenty, Sap,’ he reflected. ‘Orleck certainly gave me the wrong idea of himself.’ The American lit a cigare
tte before adding, musingly: ‘Will he deal all right with Romberg?’

  ‘I think we can concentrate on Raffleck,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘How much does Raffleck matter?’ asked the American.

  ‘Very much,’ said Palfrey. ‘The first of the many,’ he added, with a reflective smile. ‘It would be interesting to know what will happen before we get to the last of them! But on the whole, it’s probably as well that we don’t.’

  They could see the harbour from where they were standing, a little to one side of the stretch of water dotted with tiny ships. Even from there the harbour showed signs of the visits of the R.A.F. but there was a hustling bustle everywhere; several grey-painted ships of medium tonnage were being loaded or unloaded. Palfrey saw three small trawlers transferring their catch to one of the merchant vessels; he grimaced; even fish, their staple food, was taken from the people.

  Then Orleck returned, smiling and rubbing his hands.

  ‘Well?’ asked Conroy quickly.

  ‘I have found where Dr. Raffleck is working,’ said Orleck softly. ‘He is in the Sigurd Sanatorium, which is on the hills beyond the west bank of the Aker. It is a good sanatorium for your purposes, Dr. Palfrey, because it is so close to the river. If there is an alarm you can go to the river, where you will find a small boat waiting in readiness,’ said Orleck. ‘You will work this time after dark, of course, no other way is safe. You will have a guide in the boat who will take you to Hovedo—you have seen the island?’