The Unlikely Allies (16 page)

Mallory toyed with the heavy silver fork for a moment, not answering. The whole situation felt a little odd to her. Although she enjoyed the company of her companions, Nils, at age sixteen, was even younger than Rolf. Sometimes when Mallory was with the two of them she felt more like their mother than their friend. Dining in this fancy restaurant had been Nils’s idea and was to be his treat. Apparently, money was not a concern for him and his family. The expensive restaurant did not seem a fitting place to eat just before she was to report to German headquarters in Oslo.

She had received her notice the day before, and although she was not given to worrying about such things, it disturbed her. “What can they want with me?”

“You know how the Germans are.” Nils shrugged. “They’re very methodical.”

The sound of marching feet caught their attention, and all three turned to look out the large front window, where they saw a troop of German soldiers marching by in perfect order. Mallory watched them silently. When the footsteps had faded, she said, “I can’t believe that Norway fell so quickly.”

Her words put gloom on the faces of both young men, for there had never been any doubt about the outcome of the German invasion. The German air force, the Luftwaffe, had been the decisive factor that had permitted the Germans to keep pouring reinforcements into Oslo, and this had won the campaign. No one had been prepared for the closely coordinated operations of German air and ground forces. Within weeks the Germans had completely conquered Norway, and the ease with which they had accomplished it caused embarrassment to young men such as Rolf and Nils.

“They beat us so easily,” Rolf said bitterly. He shook his head, his lips a thin, pale line.

“Well, it’s no comfort, but the Nazis are taking Holland and Belgium even quicker than they took our country,” Nils said.

“I can only hope that the new British prime minister can do something to stop Hitler,” Mallory said. “If he can’t, the situation looks hopeless.” The British had grown disgusted with Prime Minister Chamberlain and forced him to resign.

“If anyone brought this war on, Chamberlain was the one,” Rolf said. “He could have led his country to stop Hitler when he first began to attack the nations at Germany’s borders.”

The others nodded in agreement. Mallory took a sip of her coffee. She was deep in thought. “Sigrid is very anxious to get away but doesn’t know how. Can we help her?”

“I plan to,” Rolf said. “She needs to leave immediately.” He reached over and squeezed Mallory’s hand. “You need to leave too.”

“Why, they wouldn’t do anything to an American,” Nils said.

“They’ll do anything, these Nazis,” Rolf insisted. “You really need to leave, Mallory.”

“I can’t do that. You know I have my work with the Lapps.”

“If I were you, then, I’d go north to their part of the country. The weather’s not so bad now, and I don’t think the Nazis will bother them. They don’t have anything the Germans want.”

The three stopped talking when the waiter brought their food. Her meal was delicious, but Mallory ate without much pleasure. Nils and Rolf shared some stories about some mutual friends, but she was preoccupied with her interview at German headquarters and wondered if she would be deported.

After the meal was over, Nils left, but Rolf stayed, smoking a cigarette and contemplating his history with Mallory. When he had first met her and taught her to ski, he had
enjoyed teasing her with his courtship, but his feelings for her had turned much more serious. He had learned to admire her beauty, the self-possessed curve of her mouth, her remarkably black hair that lay neatly over her head, and her graceful height and shapeliness that drew the eye of men everywhere. Her features were quick to express her thoughts, and her love of life seemed to lie behind her eyes and lips, waiting for release.

“You really should get away soon, Mallory.” Rolf lowered his voice and leaned closer, whispering, “Things are going to get bad around here.”

His mysterious expression drew Mallory’s attention. “What are you talking about?”

“The Nazis are in for trouble. I can’t say any more, but you need to get out of this place as soon as you can. Go back to Africa and wait until the war is over. Then you can come back.”

“I can’t do that, Rolf. You know I can’t.”

He sighed and sat back in his chair. “I knew you’d say that, but I really wish you’d change your mind.”

“It’ll be all right,” she said. “I’d better get to the headquarters now and see what they want.”

****

Headquarters for the Nazis had been set up at the
Radhuset,
the city hall of Oslo. Mallory walked down the broad street and then entered the redbrick building, noting the contrast between the dull brick exterior and the marble-floored interior. She glanced at the frescos on the walls, which were bursting with color. There were statues outside and inside, some of them depicting Viking gods and Norwegian literary figures.

The large room into which she stepped was crowded with desks, and German soldiers were everywhere, moving about or working at their desks. A hum of German voices filled the
air, and she finally showed her summons to a sergeant seated at a desk near the front.

“You must see Lieutenant Stahl.” He rose and led her across the room to an office off to the side. Mallory followed him into the office. He said in German, “This woman has a summons, Lieutenant.”

“Leave her here.”

The speaker was a short man with brown hair and narrowly spaced brown eyes. He wore the black ornate uniform of an SS officer and a revolver at his side. He waited until the soldier left, then said brusquely in Norwegian, “Sit down.”

Mallory sat down in the chair opposite the officer’s desk and watched as he took his own seat. He studied her papers, then said, “Your name is Mallory Anne Winslow?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

“You are not a citizen of Norway?”

“No, I’m not.”

“According to this, you are from Africa. Is that correct?”

“Yes, it is.”

“What are you doing in Norway?” His tone was cold, but not as cold as his eyes. There was almost an aura of evil about this officer that frightened Mallory. She knew a little about the activities of the SS and had heard many horror stories of torture and beatings of the captives of the lands that Germany had conquered. She kept her head high and said, “I came as a missionary to the Lapp people.”

“A missionary!” The thin lips curled, and he shook his head. “That doesn’t sound too likely.”

“It’s true, though.”

Uldrich Stahl laughed. “Just like you Americans. That’s your nationality according to the papers.”

“Yes, that’s correct. I don’t understand you, Lieutenant.”

“Great things are going on in the world, and you waste your life preaching to a few Lapps. Why, they’re primitive people. They make no contribution to the world.”

“They are important to God.”

His face grew tense. “I am not here to listen to your religious nonsense!” he snapped. “Here, you will fill out these papers. I will return and expect to see them done.”

Getting up, Stahl left the office and moved across to the next door. When he entered, he found Colonel Ludwig Ritter studying a large map of Norway that was on his desk.

“Ah, Stahl,” Ritter said, “I was about to send for you. We’ve got to do something about these villages up in the north. They’re hotbeds of this resistance movement.”

“Of course, Colonel. Have you ever heard of a woman called Mallory Winslow?”

“No. Who is she?”

“She’s an American who is in Norway, but she comes from Africa, of all places.”

“What’s she doing in Norway?”

“She claims she’s a missionary and she came here to preach to the Lapps, but she lives here in Oslo. I don’t trust her.”

Colonel Ludwig Ritter finally looked up from the map. He was a tall man, thin and spare, with icy blue eyes. “Why do you not trust her?”

“It’s foolishness!” Stahl said. “You know how awful conditions are in the winter, but I have it on good authority that she actually lives with those people during the winter months. They live like pigs, Colonel.”

“I’ve heard that, but do you have any evidence that she’s an agent?”

“Not yet, but I’m suspicious. She’s an attractive woman, and no attractive woman would throw herself away like that.”

“Well, keep your eye on her.”

“I may lock her up and interrogate her.”

“No. If she’s an American, that could cause trouble.” He looked at his map again and traced his finger from Oslo north to Lapland. “Why don’t you show her in. I want to meet her.”

“Jawohl,
Colonel.”

Colonel Ritter’s mind worked rapidly, for he had a superior intellect. He was a career officer and at heart was a greedy
man. Unsatisfied with his pay, he made a habit of stealing treasures from conquered people. He had become a wealthy man by becoming one of the first men into Austria, where he had looted the museums, stealing priceless paintings. Some he’d had to turn over to the upper echelon, including Göring, who was completely greedy about such things. But he had managed to keep enough for his own private collection that he need not worry about money.

“This is the woman, Colonel.”

“Ah yes, Miss Winslow. Will you sit down?”

Stahl left and closed the door behind him.

“Thank you, Colonel.” Mallory sat down and faced the officer. His eyes were as cold as polar ice, and the smile on his lips did not reach them. She answered all of Ritter’s questions, which seemed innocent enough, but finally he said, “I think it might be wise for you to leave Norway, Miss Winslow.”

“I can’t do that, Colonel. You see, I believe God has called me to be a missionary with the Lapps.”

“You understand you can be forced to leave.”

“That would not make a good impression on the United States,” she said quietly. “The American press is not friendly toward you as it is. I’m not sure you would want it known that a simple missionary was prohibited from serving God.”

A hot reply leaped to Ritter’s lips, but he bit it off before it escaped. “Very well, then, but you will have to submit to the same regulations as the Norwegians.”

“Of course, Colonel. There will be no problem about that.”

“That is all.”

As soon as Mallory left, Stahl came in. “What did you think of her?”

“I think she’s probably what she says she is.”

“Well, I’m not convinced!”

“Just keep an eye on her. If she gets troublesome, we may have to deport her. Perhaps we might have to take even stronger measures. But do nothing without speaking to me first.”

“Yes, Colonel.”

****

The shortwave radio that sat on the dressing table in Mallory’s room crackled and popped for a moment, and then a British voice came in clear and strong. Mallory leaned toward the radio, listening intently. She had the volume turned down, for the Germans had forbidden any private citizen to own a shortwave radio. Her eyes narrowed as she listened to the announcer, who spoke grimly about the British position in France:

The announcer’s voice seemed to break; then he said, “France has fallen, for all practical purposes, and Paris cannot be saved.”

For some time Mallory listened as the announcer reviewed some of what had happened in the last week or so, and she heard the hopelessness in his voice. Finally she turned off the radio and sat thinking. The news was discouraging, and she knew it would darken the spirits of Eva and Lars. They had been so kind to her ever since she had come to Norway as a stranger, letting her stay in their house time and again.

She knew she could not leave this radio in her room, for the Germans were now breaking into houses and ransacking them, searching for anything that was forbidden. Those who possessed these items were immediately arrested, and Mallory could not bear the thought of this happening to her host and hostess.

She hurriedly gathered up her equipment, which was considerable, and took it out to the small barn. The building was now used mainly for storage, and no animals were kept there. The upstairs could be reached only by a ladder fastened to the side wall and was crowded with odds and ends of furniture and other items from the past. It took several trips, but finally she had all of her shortwave equipment transferred.

She moved a pile of junk—old tables, desks, lamps, chairs, boxes, boards—out of a corner of the loft next to a window. Where all the stuff had come from, she had no idea. Perhaps Eva’s grandparents had left it there. She carefully piled the stuff around the corner, making a small room with miscellaneous junk for walls. She set the largest of her radios on a small table that she had salvaged and dropped a wire out the window for an antenna. She looked around with satisfaction at her new communications center.

The radio worked even better than it had in the house. “There,” she said grimly, “they’ll never find this dream of a radio up in this old junk room.”