Free Assignment - Black Viking by Edward S. Aarons Page B

over the top, and ran for the spot.
    Boulders were strewn among the rough grasses that grew here. At a vague distance through the fog, he saw the lights of Elgiva’s house. Then the world took on a blinding radiance as a navigation light across Faro channel shone his way. He felt as if a spotlight had been thrown upon him. He threw up an arm to shield his eyes from the glare. Every particle of mist caught the dazzling brightness to reflect it a thousand times over.
    “Sam, look out!”
    It was Sigrid again.
    Another shot followed on the heels of her warning. Durell felt a snap of air as the bullet winged by. He threw himself forward toward an outcrop of stone. A man yelled in triumph. Another replied with a grumble of words he could not understand. It was not Swedish. Footsteps came toward him through the grass. He tightened his grip on the gun. The fog distorted sight and sound. The swinging probe of the searchlight across the channel vanished, and he blinked to adjust his eyes to the lesser glare of the fog.
    “Sam? Sam, over here!”
    Sigrid’s words echoed all around him. He looked back and saw Elgiva sheltered behind a small pinnacle of wind-carved rock. A shadow moved, distorting the radiance of the fog. As Durell rose, another shot cracked, but he ran forward, saw a figure rise before him, and fired twice, aiming at the belly. The man slammed backward, hands splayed out. Another man made a sound like a neighing horse and went reeling toward the edge of the cliff. Clutching his stomach, he blasted a series of shots inland, toward something Durell could not see. He fired again, and the man vanished as if seized by an invisible, giant hand, swept from the edge of the cliff. He made no sound as he fell.
    Durell ran toward the house. Another figure intervened. He almost shot Sigrid before he recognized her.
    “Foolish man!” she gasped.
    She held a knife, and it had blood on it. She had used it on the second man. Her long, pale hair glistened with the fog. She wore a seaman’s jacket and a jaunty beret.
    “Are you all right, darling man?” she asked.
    “I had two men here—Mario and Gino, from the yacht—”
    “I sent them back to the boat,” she said.
    “You sent them away?”
    “I told them you had ordered it.”
    He controlled his anger. “Why?”
    “I wanted to prove something to you. I know you’ve had strange thoughts about me. I know you don’t trust me. But I saved your life, you see.”
    “You weren’t needed,” he said shortly.
    She pouted. “You need me more than you think. Those men would have killed you. If they had killed Elgiva, I wouldn’t care; but you are precious to me, cruel Cajun. I like you so much better alive.”
    Durell took her knife and threw it away. She did not resist. He did not put down his gun. He did not know what to make of her. Her relief at finding him seemed genuine enough.
    “Who were those people?” he asked.
    “I don’t know. Foreigners. I do not know their language. But I heard them move toward the cliff after I sent Mario and the boy back to Visby, so I followed, after making sure Elgiva’s house was empty. Oh, I hate that woman! You made a mistake, appealing to her. Did Olsen suggest it?”
    “You know a lot that you shouldn’t know,” he said grimly. “Come with me.”
    But Sigrid hung back. “We must return to the boat. I don’t want to meet that woman. Don’t be angry with me, darling man. Of course I know all about Olsen. Desk Five knows and tolerates him. Although Sweden must be officially neutral, that is no reason why we should blind ourselves to what is going on.”
    He wanted to shake her in his frustration. But her face looked innocent of all guile. Nothing she had said made him feel easier about her, but he had orders to work with her. He turned away to examine the man he had shot.
    The face was alien to this Scandinavian island of tall blonds. The cheekbones were high, the eyes faintly slanted, the moustache drooping. The clothes had