The Unlikely Allies (19 page)

“I am a missionary to the Lapps.”

“An interesting people. You have been with them long?”

“I’ve spent two winters with them. My work here is just beginning.”

The two entered the prison, and the corporal in charge brought Willi Shardorst in. “My name is Major Derek Grüber. What is your name?”

“Willi.”

“Tell me about yourself, Willi.”

“I’m Willi.”

The boy was not able to communicate more than this. The major tried asking some other questions, but Willi just smiled at him. The major had the corporal return the boy to his cell.

“You can see he’s retarded,” Mallory said.

“Yes, he’s mentally defective. I will have him released.”

“Thank you, Major,” she said breathlessly. “I’m surprised.”

“You probably think we Germans are monsters.” He saw her searching for a proper reply and said, “Don’t try to answer that. Just let me know if I can be of any help to you.”

Mallory watched him go, wishing she had said more. She started to go home and then straightened up and went back to his office. He was surprised to see her again, but she said immediately, “I feel that my thanks were not what they should have been. I am very truly grateful to you, Major Grüber.”

He looked surprised. “This wasn’t necessary.”

Mallory found herself speechless, then saw that he was holding the book of poems by Herbert again. “I see you are reading one of my favorite poets.”

“You like George Herbert?”

“Yes. He was a man of a lovely spirit.”

“I like English poetry and am especially interested in the metrics of his poetry.”

“He’s very original, isn’t he?”

“Yes. I try to write a little myself, and sometimes I use him for a model.”

He invited her to sit down, and for the next twenty minutes they talked about the poetry of George Herbert. Finally he leaned forward and said, “I’d like to meet some of your Lapps. Maybe I’ll write a poem about them.”

“They are lovely people once you get to know them.”

“When will you be going back to them?”

“I’ll probably be joining them again late in the fall.”

“Keep me posted. I’d like to know how the work goes.”

When Mallory rose, he came over to her, still holding the book in his left hand. Impulsively she put out her hand, and when his hand closed about hers, she noticed how large and strong it was. Also, she had to look up at him, which was unusual for a woman of her height. “This whole situation is difficult, but you’ve made it somewhat easier.”

“Try not to hate us too much, Miss Winslow.”

****

Eva listened as Mallory described her visit with Major Grüber. “He was so different from any German I’ve ever met.”

Eva said slowly, “You got along well with him?”

“Yes, I couldn’t believe it. And he let Willi go.”

“Ritter never would have done that—or Stahl.”

“No, I think not. But this man was different. He was reading a book of English poems by a Christian writer, George Herbert.”

Eva cocked her head to the side. “We can use this, Mallory.”

“Use it? Use it how?”

“I want you to see if you can become close friends with him. He’s left the door open. I can tell that.”

“I’m not a spy!” Mallory said sharply.

Eva Klovstad was thinking bitterly of her countrymen who would be executed. In a harsh tone, she said, “We are whatever we have to be, Mallory!”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A Strange Sort of Nazi

Hearing a honking sound overhead, Mallory looked up and was pleased to see a V-shaped flight of geese high in the sky. She had been interested in geese ever since she had first learned that they mated for life. She had read an article about them that described their undying fidelity. When one of a pair died, the remaining goose would grieve and mourn much like a human being, usually refusing to take another mate.

That thought had pleased her, and she watched the formation cross the sky like a miniature flotilla, finally disappearing into the east. A large pothole caught her almost unaware, and she grunted as the front wheel of her bicycle struck it. With a wild gesture, she grabbed at the large leather case in front of her and managed to keep it from falling. She glanced back at the saddlebags that straddled the rear wheel and was relieved to see that she had lost none of her equipment. Doubling her effort, she raced along the narrow road that wound between fields that were now covered with stalks like dry, brown skeletons, and twice she crossed narrow arching bridges, noting that a thin crust of ice was glittering on the surface of the water. The September air was sharp and would be bitter by the time the sun went down, but Mallory was starting to become accustomed to the biting cold of the north country. She thought for a moment of the blazing sun over the veldt of Africa and of her parents and of Ubo, the Masai whom she had missed greatly since leaving that far continent.

Traffic was sparse along the road, but suddenly she heard
an engine behind her. Glancing back, she saw a truck coming, and her heart gave a lurch as she recognized the German vehicle. Quickly she moved off the road, hoping she would be ignored. Her hope was denied, however, for the truck rumbled to a stop, and a corporal got out and strode over to her.

“Let me see your papers,” he said in heavily accented Norwegian.

“Yes, Corporal.” Mallory fumbled in her coat pocket for the papers, which she always carried in a sturdy envelope. She handed it to the corporal, who carelessly opened it, examined the papers, and then put his cold eyes on her. “What is in your basket? What are you carrying here?”

“This is a portable phonograph, Corporal, and these are some things I’m taking to my friends in the country.”

“Who are your friends?” he demanded. He picked up the phonograph, opened the top, then slammed the lid shut and jammed it back into the basket.

While she explained that she was going to the Sorensens’, he rummaged through the items in the back, picking up a brightly colored birdhouse. “What is this?”

“Just a birdhouse. I made it and am taking it to the country.”

The corporal grunted and picked up a can. “And this? What is it?”

“It’s a can of varnish they asked me to bring.”

Mallory’s heart was beating like a trip-hammer, for she knew she stood on the brink of discovery. She wished fervently she had waited until after dark to go to the Sorensens’, but it was too late now. Finally the corporal tossed the items onto the ground and laughed when she stooped to pick them up. He muttered something in German, which Mallory took to be a rude remark, then turned and got back into the truck.

As the military vehicle roared off, Mallory found that her hands were trembling. “Here,” she told herself sternly, “you can’t let a thing like that disturb you.” She looked up to the sky and forced a smile. “Thank you, dear Lord, for keeping
me safe.” She waited for a moment until her fear passed, then resumed her journey.

Fifteen minutes later she pulled into the farm, and Einer Sorensen, her round face flushed, met her as she dismounted in front of the house. Einer was wearing a gray wool dress with a scarlet wool kerchief tied under her chin.

“What are you doing here this time of the day?”

“I need to see James.”

“He’s fishing down at the stream. Do you want to come in and get warm?”

“No. I need to see him, but I’ll come back and maybe get some coffee before I go back to town.”

“We have some fish soup. It will put meat on your bones.”

Mallory smiled but shook her head. “I’m not sure I need meat on my bones, but the soup sounds good.” Turning her bicycle around, she rode across the field until she came to a line of trees. She spotted a bright flash of color and moved along the small stream until she found James, who had stood up and was watching her approach. “Catch any fish?” she called out.

“No, not yet.” He came toward her and held out his hands, and when she took them, he squeezed them and said, “It’s good to see you again. It gets lonesome as the devil out here.” He shook his head, and a mournful expression crossed his face. “I’m just not cut out to be a farmer.”

“Here. I’ve got some things to show you. You want to go to the house?”

“In a minute. What do you have?”

“I got the radios you wanted for your connections. Let me show you.” Putting the kickstand down, Mallory fished the varnish can out of the back. “How about this?”

“What—varnish?”

“Watch.” Mallory released a catch, and the body of the can lifted. Underneath was a radio that fit perfectly inside. “This is just a receiver, but I don’t think they’d ever find it.”

“You’re clever,” James said, smiling. He watched as she
replaced the can and then picked up a birdhouse painted red and white with blue trim. “Is this a radio too?”

“Yes. I don’t think the Germans would ever expect such a thing.” She opened the bottom, and they examined the primitive receiver she had built inside. “And I’m really proud of this one,” she said, handing him what appeared to be a box of matches. She opened it and showed it to him. “This doesn’t have much of a range, but you can pick up things that are very close.”

“Fascinating! What’s in the large case?”

“Why, it’s a portable phonograph.” She put it on the ground and took a record out of the saddlebag. He squatted beside her as she put the record on the phonograph and turned the crank. She put the needle on the record and smiled as the strains of a jazz band broke the stillness of the air. “I hope you like jazz,” she said with a laugh.

“Very much. Did you bring some more records? I suppose this is to entertain me.”

“No. Look at this.” Mallory removed the turntable and opened what appeared to be the foundation of it. Underneath was a mass of wires, and in a small, perfectly constructed place, a pair of earphones. “This is my masterpiece,” she said proudly. “It’s a powerful transceiver called a Type 3 Mark II. It’ll carry a signal more than six hundred miles.”

The two examined the radio, and Mallory’s face flushed as James commended her warmly. “You’re a genius! Smart as well as beautiful. One woman shouldn’t have all of those good qualities.”

“Well, I’ve enjoyed tinkering with equipment like this for a long time.” She started packing everything back onto her bike. “Let’s go back to the house.”

James reeled in his fishing line, and they made their way back toward the house. “It’s a good thing you weren’t stopped with all this gear,” he said when they were halfway there.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I was.”

“They didn’t examine any of this?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“Actually, a corporal picked up every piece. Thank God he didn’t look inside any of it!”

“This is too dangerous. You shouldn’t be risking your life carrying stuff like this around.”

“It’s what I can do to help. I want to help in the resistance. There’s so little that most of us can do really.”

The resistance, at first, had been merely a matter of symbols. Norwegians took small stones and put anti-Nazi signs alongside the road or wrote on walls. During the warm summer months, Mallory had seen two Norwegian women sunbathing with a message written on their backs in lipstick—
Down with the Nazis
—along with the initials of Haakon VII, the king of Norway. Mallory had no idea if the Germans had seen the sight and worried for the women if a soldier saw them.

Now, the resistance fighters had determined to sabotage Nazi efforts at every opportunity, and it had become well known that every time a German was killed by a partisan, there would be hostages shot immediately in retaliation.

When James and Mallory reached the house, they quickly hid the radios, which would be passed on to others. Afterward they sat down to some of Einer Sorensen’s delicious fish soup. Mallory enjoyed James’s company, and when he pressed her to stay for the rest of the afternoon, she was tempted but had to decline.

“I’ve got to be getting back. I’m going to meet with Major Grüber.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mallory.”

“It puts me in place to hear what’s going on. Just being in headquarters, I hear things that could be helpful. It’s what Eva instructed me to do.”

“Eva shouldn’t be putting you at risk like that.”

The Sorensens had been listening to this mild argument, and now Bernhard shook his head. “I’ve heard talk about you, Mallory.”

“What sort of talk?”

“That you’re fraternizing with the Germans. You know how bad that can be. People hate those women who go out with German soldiers.”

Mallory knew that this was one of the dangers, and she had talked it over with her friend. “Eva thinks it’s worth the risk,” she said.

“Well, I don’t think so,” Bernhard insisted. “I’m going to talk to Eva and Lars about it. You’re too valuable to risk.”

Einer shook her head in concern, her lips firmly compressed. “I hate to see you having anything to do with a German officer. We understand what you’re doing, but other people don’t.”

“It’s just a job that has to be done,” Mallory said. “It can be explained when the Germans are driven out.”

She finished her meal, and when she left, James followed her out and made one more plea. “I wish you’d think about this. There’s plenty of work you can do without risking being tied up with that Nazi.”

“This is just something I have to do, James. Don’t worry about it.”

James reached out and put his hand on her cheek. She stood very still, her eyes opening wide. He said quietly, “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

She felt the warmth of his hand on her cheek and covered it with her own. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll be very careful.”

James watched her as she pedaled away. When he went back inside, he said to Bernhard, “It’s a bad idea.”

“I think so too, but you know how Eva is. She’s hardheaded, and so is Lars.”

“I’m going to talk to them all the same.”

“Talk all you please. When those two get an idea in their heads, it can’t be blasted out with dynamite. Besides, they’re right. This is a good way to gather valuable information.”

“You know how the Germans are with these easy women,” James said. “He’ll want to sleep with her.”