he had offered to visit her in her mother’s summer
house, which she flatly rejected.
‘I’ll tell you everything,’ she said.
‘Everything?’ he queried with a little smile.
Well, she thought, almost everything. ‘The
morning Uriah —’
‘His name is not Uriah, Helena.’
‘The morning he disappeared and you raised the
alarm, do you remember that?’
‘Naturally.’
Brockhard set down his glasses, parallel with the
paper in front of him. ‘I considered reporting his
disappearance to the military police. However, he
miraculously reappeared with some story about
wandering in the forest for half the night.’
‘He wasn’t in the forest. He was on the night train
from Salzburg.’
‘Really?’ Brockhard leaned back in his chair
with a fixed expression on his face, indicating that
he was not a man who liked to express surprise.
‘He caught the night train from Vienna before
midnight, got off in Salzburg where he waited for
an hour and a half for the night train back again. He
arrived at the Hauptbahnhof at nine that morning.’
‘Hm.’ Brockhard focused on the pen he held
between his fingertips. ‘And what did he give as
his reason for this idiotic excursion?’
‘Umm,’ Helena said, unaware that she was
smiling, ‘you may remember that I was also late
that morning.’
‘Yeess . . .’
‘I was also returning from Salzburg.’
‘Is that so?’
‘That is so.’
‘I think you will have to explain, Helena.’
She explained while staring at Brockhard’s
fingertips. A drop of blood had formed under the
pen nib.
‘I see,’ said Brockhard when she had
finished.‘You thought you would go to Paris. And
how long did you think you could hide there?’
‘It’s probably obvious that we didn’t think much
at all. Uriah thought we should go to America. To
New York.’
Brockhard laughed drily. ‘You’re a very sensible
girl, Helena. I can see that this turncoat must have
blinded you with his beguiling lies about America.
But do you know what?’
‘What?’
‘I forgive you.’
On seeing her gawp he continued,‘Yes, I forgive
you. Perhaps you ought to be punished, but I know
how restless young girls’ hearts can be.’
‘It’s not forgiveness I —’
‘How’s your mother? It must be hard for her now
that you are alone. Was it three years’
imprisonment your father was given?’
‘Four. Would you please listen, Christopher?’
‘I beg of you, do not do or say anything you might
come to regret, Helena. What you have told me
changes nothing. The deal remains the same.’
‘No!’ Helena stood up so quickly that her chair
toppled over and now she smacked the letter she
had been kneading in her hand on to the desk.
‘See for yourself! You no longer have any power
over me. Or Uriah.’ Brockhard glanced at the
letter. The opened brown envelope didn’t mean a
thing to him. He took out the letter, put on his
glasses and began to read.
Waffen-SS
Berlin, 22 June
We have received a request from the Chief
of Norwegian Police, Jonas Lie, to hand you
over with immediate effect to the police in
Oslo for further service. Since you are a
Norwegian citizen, we see no reason not to
comply. This order therefore countermands
your previous orders to join the Wehrmacht.
You will be advised of details regarding the
meeting point and timing by the Norwegian
police authorities.
Heinrich Himmler
Oberkommandierender der Schutzstaffel
(SS)
Brockhard had to look at the signature twice.
Heinrich Himmler in person! Then he held up the
letter to the light.
‘You can check it if you like, but I assure you it is
genuine,’ Helena said.
Through the open window she could hear birds
singing in the garden. Brockhard cleared his throat
twice before speaking.
‘So you wrote a letter to the Chief of Police in
Norway?’
‘Uriah wrote to him. I simply posted it.’
‘You posted it?’
‘Yes. Or no, actually. I telegraphed it.’
‘A whole application? That must have cost —’
‘It was urgent.’
‘Heinrich Himmler . . .’ he said, more to himself
than to her. ‘I’m sorry, Christopher.’
Again the dry laugh. ‘Are you? Haven’t you
accomplished exactly what you wanted, Helena?’
She forced a friendly smile.
‘I have a favour to ask of you, Christopher.’
‘Oh?’
‘Uriah wants me to go with him to Norway. I