The Legion of the Lost Read online

  ‘Have you heard anything else?’ asked Palfrey.

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘Some meeting in Berlin of delegates from the occupied and neutral countries,’ said Palfrey. The Marquis ran his hand over the back of his head. ‘I have heard rumours, but no more than that. Where did you hear of it?’

  ‘Both Martin and Orleck,’ Palfrey told him. ‘Then it will be reliable,’ said the Marquis. ‘As I understand it, delegates from the most rabid collaborationist organisations will be going to Berlin, presumably for further instructions. If you can learn anything more of that I’ll be glad, but your main object will be the missing men.’ He paused, then added quietly: ‘Have you thought any more of your red-haired visitor?’

  Palfrey stared, his mind reverting to the last visit to London.

  ‘Red-haired—great Scott, no! I haven’t given him a thought for days!’

  ‘We’ve given him plenty of thought here,’ said Brett dryly. ‘I put Craigie on to him. It developed very quickly. The organisation he controlled has been uncovered—it wasn’t a small one. The little redheaded man, who appears to be a German named Staabruck, managed to get away. The name is probably an alias.’ Palfrey said, sharply: ‘He’s got out of the country?’

  ‘By aeroplane, yes—it works both ways, you see. Not that I think we have a great deal to worry about in that respect, but there is something else,’ said Brett. ‘Staabruck was dealing with an Englishman named Percival. Percival was fatally wounded but spoke freely before he died. Staabruck’s mission was to find out what you and the others were doing, and to investigate my activities.’

  ‘We-ell, it’s plenty to be going on with,’ said Palfrey, smiling a little. ‘But what does it mean, other than that they’ll keep a sharp look-out for us? This time we can try a few minor changes in appearance.’

  He told Brett a little of what the pastor had told him about Hilde.

  ‘They’ll find plenty for her to do over here, I expect,’ said Brett. ‘And plenty when we get them back to Norway. School teachers are at a premium on the continent. Well, take it easy for a day or two!’

  Then, later in the morning, Palfrey received the dossier of Erik Erikson.

  Palfrey knew him for a scientist of some repute but had not realised that his political activities had been almost as comprehensive as his scientific ones, and that his knowledge of social conditions in his own country and the Low Countries was almost unlimited.

  There was a note, too, that one Hans Ohlson, also working in Copenhagen, was in some ways as important as Erikson to the Danes. Ohlson was the leading agriculturalist, and the chief postwar problem of Denmark would be a restoration of the agricultural resources of the country.

  Drusilla Blair, was sitting on the foot of Hide’s bed.

  ‘I will not waste my time here writing on pieces of paper!’ the girl declared passionately. ‘I will get back to Norway somehow to help my friends. I should never have come away, I did not realise what I was doing—where I was coming. Yes, yes,’ she added as Drusilla was about to interrupt, ‘I am grateful, I know how wonderful the English are being, but it is something here’ – she put a hand over her heart – ‘that tells me I have been wrong. I must go back, do you hear me? I must do more than work here! I want—’ she hesitated, then drew a deep breath and said in a low-pitched voice: ‘I want to kill as many Germans as I can, do you understand? A dozen, a hundred of them. The Russian women do so, why should not I?’

  Chapter Nine

  The Problem of Hilde

  There was no doubt at all, thought Palfrey; the right thing to do with Hilde was to hand her over to the Norwegian authorities and let them deal with her.

  ‘And yet,’ said Palfrey, later that evening when they had gathered for discussion at his flat which Drusilla and Hilde continued to occupy, ‘we’re letting sentiment overrule caution; first with Stefan, now with Hilde. It’s a bad policy.’

  ‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t let her stay here until we’re off again,’ commented Brian. ‘It will help her a bit.’

  ‘Will it make it any better for her in the long run?’ asked Palfrey. ‘We shan’t be here more than another couple of days and she might as well have the break now as later. Her own people will be able to convince her, more easily than we, that she’s only making unnecessary trouble.’

  He reflected for a few moments, somewhat ruefully, on the fact that from being a hunted victim of the Nazis who had crossed their path, Hilde had become the pivotal point of their immediate activities. It was impossible to get away from her. Before they let her go they wanted to feel that she was in a happier frame of mind.

  Brian said less than any of the others.

  The next morning brought news which made them temporarily forget Hilde’s pressing problem, for the eight o’clock bulletin had an account of the destruction of the power-stations in Oslo, and:

  ‘It now appears that German excesses and brutality have reached a new peak of horror as a result of the sabotage. Over two hundred people have been shot and nearly a thousand arrested in Oslo alone. The Germans claim that they have successfully uprooted the patriot organisation responsible for the sabotage, but their threat of further reprisals in the event of trouble in the future appears to give the lie to this claim.’

  It was precisely half-past eleven when the Marquis arrived, dapper and bright-eyed.

  Palfrey, who knew the Marquis much better than Conroy, did not like the way the latter looked at him, put his hat, gloves and stick on a table, then sat down and took out his cigarette-holder. He lit a cigarette before speaking – a reliable sign that he had something of consequence to say.

  Conroy exclaimed: ‘Well, what’s the news? Anything from Stefan?’

  ‘No,’ said the Marquis quietly. ‘There’s been no word of him and I think that probably means good news. There has been word from Oslo. Orleck has been arrested with many of his best men. So has Pastor Martin and young Olaf.’ The Marquis spoke very gently, looking all the time into Palfrey’s eyes.

  There was a spell of constrained silence.

  ‘You’re leaving tonight,’ the Marquis said bluntly.

  Palfrey was playing with a few strands of hair about his forefinger. He looked mildly surprised, faintly embarrassed.

  ‘As soon as that, are we?’ His smile grew more diffident.

  Brett appeared to lose himself in thought for a moment, then went on softly: ‘It isn’t easy for any of us, you know. We plan these big acts of sabotage over here in the beginning, we put them in operation throughout the continent and we know the cost in human life. While the war goes on there will be much of it. It would be no wiser to say that we should let things slide on the continent to avoid reprisals than it is to say that we should not bomb Berlin because they often come to London a day or two afterwards.’ He lapsed into silence and the ensuing pause lasted long enough to reflect a noticeable easing in Conroy’s manner. Then he went on: ‘Now what is this about the girl, Palfrey?’

  ‘Hilde Silversen. She’s—well, touchy.’ He explained at greater length.

  ‘She’s anxious to get back in spite of what she knows,’ said the Marquis.

  He stopped abruptly, for there was a ring at the front door. None of them had heard any sound of approach and they looked in some surprise towards the door as Brian went to open it.

  Hilde burst into the room.

  Her eyes, a cornflower blue, were sparking; her cheeks were pale except for two spots of red; she looked as if she were in a high fever. Her lips were parted and quivering, her voice shook with emotion.

  ‘I am going back,’ she said a low-pitched voice. ‘I will not stay here! I have read what has happened at home.’

  ‘Now, come!’ said Palfrey. ‘You can’t, you know. I’m sorry. I think you’ll realise that you’re doing more good here than in Norway. Like Dr. Raffleck, he—’

  ‘He is different, he is a great man,’ said Hilde. ‘I am but a woman, and—and do you not think I know how to avenge those who are de
ad? I have changed since I left Norway, I am a different woman! I ran away because’ – her voice fell so low that they could hardly distinguish the words – ‘because I wished to save my virtue. Virtue!’ She made the word sound ugly. ‘What does a woman’s body matter when such things can happen? I can use mine to snare the beasts, I know just how I can do it, I can pretend that I am one of them—others have done it!’ Her voice rose to a shout then. ‘And you say I cannot get there, but you got there. You and all the others! If you can go, then so can I. I can only take revenge by seeing them, by leading them to their death as has been done by hundreds of women. By thousands! You—you are the leader, you can arrange it. Arrange, then, to send me back!’

  Palfrey said in a low-pitched voice: ‘One mistake, Hilde. I’m not the leader.’ He looked diffidently at Brett and she turned to look at the Marquis as he went on: ‘And you’re a Norwegian subject, you know. Not English. You’re under your own country’s rules now. Free Norway’s. Isn’t that so. Lord Brett?’

  Hilde and the Marquis eyed each other.

  ‘Do you realise that I mean it, every word?’

  The Marquis surprised them by stretching out a hand and resting it on Hilde’s shoulder.

  ‘Why, yes,’ he said with surprising geniality. ‘We all do. Hilde—it is Hilde?—if you feel just as you do now in, say, a week’s time, then something can probably be arranged. We need the help of people like you, as many as we can get.’

  Hilde’s lips quivered, her eyes narrowed. Palfrey thought that she was going to burst into tears. Instead she swung round on him and shook her clenched fist under his nose.

  ‘You see?’ she cried triumphantly. ‘It can be arranged, although you tried to prevent it!’

  Palfrey was too startled to answer.

  He felt vaguely amused, when he had recovered enough to view it dispassionately, that the Marquis had succeeded in calming the girl with little or no trouble by making a half-promise which might never need to be redeemed. Certainly from that moment onwards Hilde was a different creature. She agreed with surprising alacrity to go with Drusilla – on the Marquis’ suggestion – to the headquarters of the Norwegian Government.

  Then he decided that he was being a fool; it was time he paid more attention to the Marquis’s detailed instructions.

  Both Erik Erikson and Hans Ohlson were in Copenhagen, working under the direction of the Gauleiter for Zeeland – General Moritz von Kalle. Both had served ‘sentences’ in concentration camps and been released on condition that they collaborated with Germans; both had been requested by the Danish authorities in England to accept.

  ‘Because we shall have much more chance of getting them away from Copenhagen than from a camp,’ said the Marquis. ‘I think you’ll still find them in the Charlottenborg Palace, but you will be able to check that when you get there.’

  ‘How are we going?’ asked Palfrey.

  The Marquis smiled.

  ‘By air and parachute. Not original, but reasonably reliable.’

  ‘How are we coming back?’ asked Palfrey. Then he waved a hand in annoyance with himself. ‘I should say how are we going to get Erikson and Ohlson back? We’ll go on to Germany, I take it? We can’t keep making cheap return trips.’

  ‘You’ll send them back by submarine,’ said the Marquis. ‘Full instructions will be left for you with Thorvold in Copenhagen, and the submarine will surface at the appointed time a few miles off the Jutland coast. It won’t be easy,’ he admitted, ‘but it will be arranged. You concentrate on getting the two men out of Copenhagen and to the Jutland coast.’

  Chapter Ten

  Copenhagen

  It had been a poor night for flying.

  Two or three times the plane had been swept to one side while flying through a thunderstorm in which the lightning had revealed everything about them. Now they were flying across a stretch of clear sky and a few stars shone upon them; to the south they could see the celestial pyrotechnics flashing vividly.

  They had all the papers they were likely to need and had little doubt of their ability to account satisfactorily for their presence in Denmark.

  One of the crew came towards them.

  ‘Just about right now, sir.’

  There was a long wait before the man said: ‘About to open, sir.’

  A cold wind swept into the cabin, for they were travelling at two hundred miles an hour and at a height of four thousand feet; the cold cut at Palfrey like a knife.

  He went through, feet first.

  The fall was gentle yet he hit the ground with a surprising jolt. He lay there for a moment, then with a small trowel, brought for that purpose, he scooped a hole in the soft earth, put the parachute in and covered it up. He trod the earth down firmly, glad of the movement because it helped him to get warm. He took off his coat and turned the sleeves inside out, then put it on again; it looked like a lumber-jacket of civilian type; dressed thus he would occasion no comment in Denmark.

  He could see and hear nothing except when a gust of wind swept from the south-west, bitingly cold. He took a compass from his pocket and set his course – due north from that spot. He walked briskly over the uneven, rising land, the fertile soil of Denmark, for perhaps twenty minutes. Then he reached a road, turned left along it but still heading north. In some ten minutes the outline of a barn rose up against the night sky.

  Before dawn they heard movement along the road. After a while two horse-drawn carts appeared, making a clanking noise from battered cans of milk which were being brought to Korson for the hospitals. There were two men, both old fellows, with the little convoy. They stopped by the barn and Palfrey went out.

  The first man greeted him in a low-pitched voice in Danish.

  ‘Why did you not advise me of your coming?’ asked the man in the same hushed voice.

  ‘You have been advised by others than myself,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘Ah, that is good!’ The other spoke more confidently. ‘There are three of you—yes, I see the others now. We will take you to the station and there you will be able to mix with the crowd. That is what you expect?’

  At half past three, feeling stiff and starved, they left the train at the terminus and stepped into the street after their passes had been examined and stamped at the barrier. The crowd had been so great that little more than a cursory examination had been given.

  Conroy said in a whisper: ‘Not so many Huns, Sap.’

  ‘There are enough,’ said Palfrey, although it was true that there were fewer Germans about than in Oslo.

  He went purposefully along, spending little time in looking right or left, until he reached the Langebro Bridge. With the others he stood half way over the bridge looking down into the water, conscious of the hurrying crowd and the gulls which curled about their heads in a patient search for crumbs and bread. They had been there for less than five minutes when a tall, white-bearded man came up to them. He stood for some moments in silence, as if absorbed as they were in the scene. Then he said in a slow voice: ‘There are fewer gulls this year.’

  The death rate is high,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘Not so high as in other places,’ objected the bearded man.

  ‘That is a question of doubt,’ said Palfrey.

  The man smiled; Palfrey looked at him squarely for the first time, seeing thin cheeks and the pallid complexion which told of lack of nutriment; but there was a friendly glow in the other’s eyes which cheered him.

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ he said. ‘I am Thorvold. I am glad to know that you are safely here, Dr. Palfrey, and I have some news for you. Both Erikson and Ohlson are still working in the Charlottenborg Palace. They sleep there, also, but once a day they are allowed to take exercise in the yard. For half an hour—no more. The times are altered daily.’

  ‘How long have they been as closely watched as this?’ asked Palfrey uneasily.

  ‘For several months now,’ said Thorvold. ‘It is not a new thing, they are not suddenly afraid that they might make an attempt to escape
, if that is what you are thinking. In fact it is only of late that they have been allowed to walk in the grounds, as a reward for their good behaviour.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Palfrey a little aimlessly. ‘How do you get messages to them?’

  ‘By one of the guards,’ said Thorvold. ‘They are also very easy to bribe and you can get word to and from Erikson quite easily. And, of course, Ohlson. We have assured both men that we will lose no time in making good their escape, but—what is it you say? A hard nut yes, it is a hard nut. I cannot help as much as I would wish. We are watched very carefully now, it is most difficult for us to get cars or petrol.’

  Leaning across Palfrey so that he could hear what was being said, Conroy declared sardonically: He’s a real little apostle of hope, isn’t he?’

  ‘I must tell you the truth,’ said Thorvold simply. ‘You do not perhaps realise the stranglehold which the Germans have over us—it is bad and it gets worse. But amongst the staff of the German Occupying Forces there is a Colonel who is well disposed towards us. He will perhaps be able to help. He is going to the theatre tonight. My chief message for you is that he will be by the statue of Ludvig Holberg after the performance and will discuss the situation with you when you meet him.’

  ‘His name?’ asked Palfrey.

  ‘Kurt Schlesser. And you need have no fear, he is certainly one of us,’ said Thorvold. ‘There are not many Germans disloyal to their leader, but Schlesser—’ he paused. ‘His wife was half Jewish and she has suffered much, as well as his children. He did not learn that until he last went to Berlin. You understand?’

  It was too dark to distinguish one building from another. They reached the statue of Ludvig Holberg. A few people were hurrying past.

  A small man in German uniform came stamping along the pavement; unlike those in Norway he dared to walk alone. As he drew nearer, Palfrey saw a lined, sagging face, a bristling, greyish chin. Yet there was an air of swagger about the fellow which marked him ‘German.’

  He slowed down, peered up in the semi-darkness of the night as if trying to see the inscription on the tablet beneath the statue, and then said softly: ‘Follow me, one at a time.’