Free The Blue Ice by Hammond; Innes Page B

what I told you? The only dangerous Norwegian is a Norwegian business man.’
    â€˜What about Farnell?’ I asked. ‘What was he doing up at Finse?’
    His eyelids flickered open and he stared at me. ‘Farnell?’ He suddenly laughed. ‘You English – you are like bulldogs. You never let go. You can ignore anything and concentrate on the one thing that matters to you. You don’t care about what I have been telling you. It doesn’t mean anything to you, eh?’ His voice had risen to sudden passion. ‘I tell you a story of injustice, of the destruction of one man by another. And all you think about is—’ His voice dropped again. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you. Farnell worked on the Bergen railway. He worked at the railway yards at Finse under the name of Bernt Olsen. He was working for the resistance. He risked his life to get us out. Now I would like to help him – if I can.’
    â€˜How can you help him when he’s dead?’ I asked.
    â€˜If he’s dead – then that’s that. But if he’s not … My life’s finished. I have no future – nothing. When you have reached that stage, Mr Gansert, you can afford to take a little risk here and there.’
    â€˜Such as – trying to kill somebody,’ I suggested.
    He smiled. ‘You are still wondering whether that gybe was an accident or not – eh? Jorgensen thinks I did it on purpose, does he?’ He chuckled. ‘All his life now, until I’m dead, he’ll he wondering – wondering what the noise at the window is, wondering whether he’ll die a sudden death.’ He began plucking nervously at the blankets. ‘Farnell knew a lot about Jorgensen. If only I could find Farnell. Is Jorgensen sure Farnell is dead?’ He closed his eyes.
    The door opened then and Jill came in with a cup of beef tea. ‘How is he?’ she asked me.
    Dahler sat up in his bunk. ‘I’m quite well, thank you,’ he said sharply.
    She handed him the cup. ‘Drink that,’ she said. ‘And then try to get some sleep.’
    I followed her out and shut the door. ‘We must always see that somebody else is with him when Jorgensen is about,’ I said.
    She nodded.
    â€˜Was it an accident or not?’ I asked her.
    â€˜I don’t know.’ She turned quickly towards the galley.
    I caught her arm. ‘You saw what happened. Or Jorgensen thought you did. What was it – accident or – attempted murder?’
    She winced at the ugliness of the word. ‘I don’t know,’ she said again.
    I let her go then. ‘He seems to have reason enough for his hatred,’ I said. ‘Anyway, from now on I’m taking no chances.’
    She went into the galley. I turned and climbed the companionway to the deck. The weight of the wind hit me as soon as I hauled myself through the hatch. I staggered to the weather rail and looked out into the darkness. Broken wavetops hissed hungrily each time the ship lifted. The sea was a roaring waste of heaving water. Each wave was a tussle between ship and sea and sometimes the sea won, breaking inboard with a crash and seething out through the lee scuppers. Jorgensen was still at the wheel. Dick was huddled beside Curtis in the shelter of the cockpit. ‘What are we making by the log?’ I asked him.
    â€˜About seven,’ he answered.
    â€˜Have you seen Dahler?’ Jorgensen asked.
    â€˜Yes,’ I said.
    â€˜What does he say?’
    â€˜He says it was an accident,’ I replied. ‘The wheel was too heavy for him.’
    â€˜He’s lying.’
    â€˜Possibly,’ I said. ‘But you wouldn’t convince a jury of it. The fact remains that the man’s a cripple and only has one hand.’ I turned to Dick. ‘Time for my watch to take over,’ I said.
    Jorgensen handed over the wheel to me without a word. I watched him