The Unlikely Allies (18 page)

“Do they know I’m coming?”

“No. I didn’t have time to tell anyone. I’m going to ask Ajax
to give us a bit more warning next time. If I hadn’t been on the radio, you might have sat on that dock for a long while and you might have been caught.”

“It was a bit sudden. I’m sorry.”

James St. Cloud was not a man who would attract a great deal of attention. He had mild blue eyes and lank brown hair. He spoke in a voice that indicated he was highly educated.

They sat under a trio of distinctive trees, waiting for their contact who would give them a ride to the Sorensens’ place. “What’s your part in all this?” James asked. “You’re not Norwegian.”

“No, I’m an American.” A truck pulled up near them, and the driver and Mallory exchanged code sentences. Mallory was grateful Ajax had managed to get her message through to the driver. He dropped them off at the Sorensens in the country, then disappeared back toward town.

They were met as the door opened, and Bernhard Sorensen stepped outside. He stared hard at the two and asked, “What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Sorensen, you remember me. I live with the Klovstads, Eva and Lars.”

“Yes, I remember. Who is this man?”

Mallory lowered her voice. “This is James St. Cloud. He’s just come over from England to help us with the work.”

“Do you have proof of that?” Sorensen was a huge, bulky man with a shock of straw-colored hair and sharp eyes. “Where did you run into him?”

“He came in on a fishing boat.”

“How do you know he is who he says he is?”

“He knew the password.”

“We’ll have to have more proof than that.” Sorensen reached beneath his coat and pulled out a pistol. “You may be who you say you are, but I’ll have to have more proof before I risk my wife’s life.”

James sighed gustily. “This is no way to run an operation!” he protested.

“I’ll have to hold both of you until I can talk to Lars or Eva.”

“But you know I stay with them,” Mallory said.

“I don’t know anything except that I’m not taking any chances. Follow me.”

Mallory saw that it would do no good to protest. Bernhard Sorensen was obviously a stubborn individual, and she said no more as he directed them into a shed outside. They made themselves comfortable on boxes and crates. When the door shut, they heard the lock fasten on the outside. She turned to James. “I guess we’ll just have to wait.”

“This is a pitiful way to run an operation.”

“We’re doing the best we can. If you had given me more time, Lars would have met you.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He surveyed their surroundings. “What are you doing here in Norway?” He listened as she told him of her work with the Lapps, and finally he shook his head and laughed. “That’s a very bad cover story.”

“It’s not a cover story.”

“A missionary to the Lapps?”

“It’s why I came here.” She wiped her sleeve across her forehead. “How did you get into this business?”

“I was in the army, but I took a bullet in the knee. You may have noticed I limp a little. I’m not much good as a soldier, but I’m good enough for this sort of thing.”

“Do you have a family?”

“Not now.” He hesitated, then said, “I was married once, but my wife is dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” He shrugged. “What about you?”

“My family’s all in Africa.”

This seemed to interest James. “Africa’s a long way from Norway. You’re not married?”

“No.”

Amusement danced in his eyes. “Why not?”

Mallory was surprised at his direct questions. “Because I haven’t
found a man yet that I want to live with for the rest of my life.”

The conversation eventually trailed off. They were getting thirsty in the stuffy little space, but they had no success at attracting anyone’s attention. Although James banged on the door several times, he got no answer.

Finally, after what seemed like a very long time, they heard voices. “Well, I hope we’re out of this place,” he said.

“I think so. That’s Eva’s voice.”

“Who is she?”

“Eva Klovstad. She and her husband, Lars, head the resistance in Oslo.”

The door opened, and Eva stood there. She listened as James explained his mission, and finally she said, “He’s all right, Bernhard.”

“Good to get a little recognition finally,” James said wryly. “But we’d better get our stories straight.”

“Why exactly have you come?” Eva asked.

“There are going to be a great many supplies coming in—guns, ammunition—and our timing to pick them up needs to be exact. We’ve got a new aircraft that will serve admirably, but it can’t stay on the ground long.”

“Yes, the timing will be important. Mallory’s our best radio operator. You’ll have to work with her.”

“Fine. When can we start?”

“You will stay here as a farmhand,” Eva said. “When you want a message sent or you need to receive one, you must come to Oslo.”

“That sounds too awkward and dangerous.”

The two argued for a while, and Mallory finally said, “I have enough components to make another radio. We can set it up here. Do you know how to use a shortwave, Mr. St. Cloud?”

“Just James is fine. No, I’m not much good with things like that.”

“Then I’ll come out and teach you.”

“That would be better,” James said. He took a deep breath and looked around at the small group. “I hope I can be of some help.”

“If you can get us some supplies,” Eva said grimly, “that will be a help indeed.”

“I’ll do my best.” James St. Cloud smiled and seemed a very ordinary man. “If we’re caught, we’ll all be shot together, I suppose.”

“Exactly,” Eva said, nodding. “So be careful.”

“I’m always careful. It’s other people who get me into trouble.” He smiled lightly and nodded toward Mallory. “But this young lady and I will work well together, I think.”

****

James St. Cloud was sitting beside Mallory in the corner of the library as they listened to a discussion about recent events in France on the radio. The announcer said with great sadness in his voice, “France is no longer a republic but a puppet under the Nazi regime.”

“Well, I guess it had to happen,” he said.

“What does it mean, James?”

“It means that unless the Americans help us out, Hitler will have his way.”

“But America will never do that unless she’s attacked.”

“Yes, you’re right. The only other force that could stop Hitler is Russia.”

Mallory was surprised at his answer. She had worked with him now for weeks and found him to be knowledgeable and well educated, and she had learned to trust his judgment in political and military matters. “But Russia’s their ally.”

“On paper.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Russia will do whatever she thinks is for her own good. Hitler’s the same. The first time either one of them sees a chance to attack the other one, they will. That’s what I’m hoping for. It’s the only thing I can see that will stop Hitler.”

“But you’ve told me that the Russians are poorly armed.”

“That is true, but Germany can still never defeat Russia.”

“Why not?”

“It’s simply too big, Mallory. When an army goes into a country, they have to have supplies. Can you imagine how long a supply line would have to be to reach all the way from Berlin to Moscow? If they tried it, they’d be cut to pieces by partisans just like us. And even if they weren’t, the winter would kill them.” He puffed on his pipe and shook his head thoughtfully. “Napoleon defeated every nation he ever faced until he tackled Russia, and it was the Russian winter that defeated him. The same thing would happen to Hitler. I wish he
would
attack the Russians! That would take the pressure off the rest of the world.”

The two sat there speaking quietly, drinking coffee out of a Thermos jug that Mallory had brought. Finally he turned to her and said, “I’m thinking about what it would be like to hold you close.”

Mallory’s face flushed. He had said things like this before, and worse, and she had vowed not to let it bother her. James St. Cloud was a worldly man who had no belief whatsoever in God. She liked him very much but knew that nothing could ever come of a serious relationship between them.

“You just stay in your own place, James.”

“Have you ever had a man?” he asked casually.

Mallory felt her face burning. “You ask the most awful questions. It’s none of your business.”

“Well, I believe every woman needs a man.” He reached out and took her hand, and when she tried to pull it away, he held it with a surprisingly strong grasp. He lifted it to his lips despite her efforts and kissed it. “I hate to see a woman wasted.”

He grinned at her, knowing that she disliked this part of his personality, but he could not resist the urge to tease her incessantly about her lack of a love life.

It was true enough that Mallory did not like his amorous
comments, but she found him to have a warmth beneath his somewhat mean streak. “I’m glad you’re here, James,” she said, hoping to change the subject. “These people need all the help they can get. Sometimes I wonder if we’re doing any good here, but I suppose we are.”

“Of course we are.”

She hesitated, then said, “I still think of Nils almost every day.”

“Your friend who was executed?”

“He went out with a beautiful smile on his face. I hope when it comes my time to die, I can face it as he did.”

“I don’t think about death that much. I’ve gotten used to this old planet. I’ve decided that this old world can be cheerfully enthusiastic or cheerfully cruel. It doesn’t seem to make much sense.”

“You’ll never make sense out of the world if you leave God out of it, James.”

“Now, don’t start your preaching. I don’t think men catch grace from preaching.”

“How do you think they get it, then?”

“Well, maybe by reading the Bible for themselves.”

Raising an eyebrow, Mallory said, “You read the Bible, James?”

“Why, yes. It’s a wonderful book, at least a lot of it.”

“I’m surprised you would say that.”

“One of my uncles is a rector in the Church of England. I have a great deal of respect for him. He started me reading the Bible.”

“What part of it do you like the best?”

“I’m fascinated by the character of Jesus, but His words don’t seem to work for today. I think there’s a lot more evil in the world now than when He came to save it.”

“It’s not over yet, though.”

“No, it’s not over yet.” James started to say something else but was interrupted as Bernhard Sorensen came lumbering
into the library. “What’s the matter with Bernhard, I wonder,” he whispered. “He looks scared.”

“Someone shot a German soldier,” Sorensen panted. “The Germans have taken five hostages.”

“They’re going to shoot them, I suppose,” James observed calmly.

“Yes, and one of them is Willi Shardorst. He’s only seventeen years old, and he’s not right in the head. He wouldn’t harm a fly.”

“Surely they wouldn’t shoot a person like that!” Mallory protested.

“They’ll shoot anybody. In Belgium they used bayonets on babies and held them up to the sky.”

A chill ran over Mallory. At the same time a grim determination seized her. “I’ve got to go talk to the commandant.”

“It won’t do any good. It will just draw their attention to you.”

“I’ve got to try anyway. It probably won’t do any good, but I couldn’t live with myself if I did nothing to try to stop this.”

****

“Colonel Ritter is not available, and he will not be for a week. He’s gone to the north.”

“But I must see someone.”

“Tell me your business.”

Lieutenant Uldrich Stahl had suspicion in his cold blue eyes.

“I want to talk to someone about one of the hostages.”

“You may talk to me.”

Stahl listened to Mallory, then shook his head. “We make no exceptions. That is my final answer. You may go.”

Mallory knew it was hopeless. As she left his office, a new wave of grim determination swept over her. She approached the sergeant who kept watch at the door of the headquarters. “Sergeant, is there a senior officer here? Someone higher in rank than Lieutenant Stahl?”

“Ja, Colonel Ritter’s new assistant, Major Grüber. He’s in that office over there.”

“Thank you.”

Avoiding Stahl’s office, Mallory made her way through the crowded area until she came to the door the sergeant had indicated. There was no name on it, but she knocked anyway. A voice spoke up,
“Kommen Sie herein.”
She opened the door and saw a tall man dressed in the uniform of a major standing by the window. He was holding a book in his hand, and he lowered it, looking at her with surprise. He spoke to her in Norwegian. “What is it you want?”

“I . . . I need to talk to you, Major.”

“Come in and close the door. What is your name?”

As Mallory took her seat and gave her name, she had an opportunity to see the book, which the man laid down. She was surprised to see that it was a book of English poetry called
The Poetry of George Herbert.
Herbert was a favorite Christian poet of hers, and she was shocked to find a German officer reading it. “Major, there is going to be an execution. One of the people captured is a boy named Willi Shardorst. . . .” She spoke passionately about the wrongness of killing such an innocent and ended by saying, “Surely you wouldn’t make war on such people as this poor boy. What harm can he do you?”

As she spoke, she studied Major Grüber carefully. He was a fine-looking man, extremely tall, at least two or three inches over six feet, and compactly built. He looked like an athlete, and his movements were smooth and easy. She expected him to order her out of his office, but he said, “I’ll go see this man. You come with me.”

Strolling out of the office, he opened the door for her and accompanied her outside the building. “I am new here, but I understand that the prisoners are kept in the local jail.”

As they moved forward, he turned to glance at her. “You’re not Norwegian, are you?”

“No, I’m not, Major. I’m from Africa, but my family is American.”

“And what are you doing here?”