Free The Informer (Sabotage Group BB) by Steen Langstrup Page B

the garden.
    Listening, holding his big revolver in his hand, Jens is sitting on the bed. He doesn’t feel the cold, doesn’t see his own breath hanging around his face like fog. He listens to the sound of cautious steps on the frozen grass. Slowly, he cocks the hammer on his revolver.
    A shadow passes the window. A male figure. He can see that much. It is not a hungry fox looking for food; it’s a man. He listens carefully, but the hissing of his own breath is too loud and makes it impossible for him to hear anything else. He opens his mouth to dim the sound. The cold creeps in on him. He has a strange feeling…like falling.
    The sounds are now coming from the shed behind the allotment house. The clinking of bottles. The garbage! He has gathered all his waste inside the small shed. There is not really that much despite the fact that he has been living here for a couple of months.
    Living underground, you can’t leave your waste for the garbage collector, as he might become suspicious receiving trash from an unoccupied allotment house. You can’t leave it in a mess at your hideout or just dump a bag of waste around the neighborhood either. Someone would notice. The shed seemed as a reasonable solution to the garbage problem. Hide it there for Harald, the owner of the allotment, to burn it along with his own garden waste when he starts using the allotment again in the spring. Nobody will notice.
    However …
    Somebody is messing around with the trash in the shed right now.
    Probably the owner of one of the other allotments. He might be out here to get a bag of potatoes he had been storing in the cold for the winter. Something must have caught his attention.
    The sound of the shed door closing. Then steps. Branches scratching the sides of the house.
    Jens is as quiet as a mouse. He will need to find another place to stay. He can’t stay here. It is not safe anymore. Jens is following the sound of the man outside with his revolver. Indecisively, he points it down at the floor for a few seconds, only to raise it back at the sound again. Finally, he uncocks the hammer and lets the revolver slide back under his pillow.
    Holding his breath, he reaches out for the kitchen knife instead. His mouth all dry. A headache coming on. Damn hangovers. He badly needs a drink. The steps outside continue around the house. Maybe he can gain some time by killing the trespasser? A silent kill with the kitchen knife.
    The man is trying the door now. It is locked. Staring as the doorknob goes up and down, Jens throws a quick glance back at his pillow. Should he get the gun? He’s sweating. Feeling sick.
    The man outside is knocking at the door. Two hard strokes. Dong dong.
    Jens clutches the knife, making his knuckles turn white. Still holding his breath.
    “Jens?” A whisper. “Jens, are you there?”
    Putting the knife away he goes to unlock the door. “Come in.”
    Borge is quick to get in. Wearing a knitted hat, cheeks red from the cold.
    “What are you doing sneaking around like that?” Jens snarls as he finally grabs the bottle of schnapps. “You scared the shit out of me. You’re lucky you didn’t get shot!”
    “The fox,” Borge says, pausing as Jens drinks from the bottle. “You’re drinking too much.”
    “That’s none of your business.”
    “That’s right. The fox must have found your garbage last night. The place was a mess with cans and paper everywhere. I took it back inside the shed. You’ll have to find some way to lock up that shed.”
    “What do you want?”
    “We got to be extra careful now. We have got an informer right in the center of our group.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding. It’s sure as hell is none of us, but you’re right about one thing, we got an informer on our necks. It’s just not one of us. I’m an old policeman. I know what I’m talking about.”
    “Bullshit. Don’t waste my time. The fact is that nobody but the four of us and the new kid knew about our last two operations, and