“We’re due at the conference in a few minutes,” he stated, glancing at his watch. “Why don’t you stay here and rest up.” I tried to get up on one elbow.
“But, Major, I want to…” The room started spinning and my head found the pillow, fast. I spoke looking up at the ceiling. “We need to observe everyone who was at the exercise this morning.”
“Why? Are you saying this was no accident?” Harding said in disbelief.
“Think about it… sir. Let’s say there was one live round loaded accidentally. It could have been fired off into the air or at any one of those Home Guards or Norwegians running around out there. But it wasn’t. It ended up a few inches from my head. What are the chances of that?”
“It had to end up somewhere, Boyle,” Harding answered. “What makes you think you’re so special?”
“Because we’re here, looking for a spy.” I lowered my voice, feeling like an actor in a bad melodrama. “And I’ve been asking around about the gold. Either a thief or a traitor or both tried to kill me today.”
“And failed,” Kaz spoke up, “which means we should not leave Billy alone.”
“Hold on,” Harding said firmly. “We are about to announce that we are going to invade Norway. I need all of you there. Boyle, keep your . 45 handy if you’re worried and lock your door. We’ll check in on you when it’s over. Let’s go.”
I had Kaz dig out my piece and I put it under the blanket.
“Be careful, Billy.” Daphne smiled down at me. “I want you to dance at my wedding.” She kissed me on the cheek like a big sister and scooted out of the room after Kaz. Harding looked out the window as if he took the threat to me seriously.
“No way in here except through that door, Boyle. Can you get up and lock it after me?” I swung my legs out of the bed and steadied myself. My head was throbbing but the room wasn’t spinning as much as it had. Harding looked at me impatiently.
“I can make it, Major.”
“OK. Looks like you’ve stirred things up, Boyle. Good work. But try not to get yourself killed.” He turned and left. Not wanting me to die was the nicest possible thing Harding could’ve said. It fit right in with my plans. I locked the door and decided to run a tub and bathe away my troubles. With everyone scurrying off to the conference in the main hall I had the water pressure all to myself. Hot water filled the tub and I had a glorious soak. Another hard day at the war. I relaxed and let the steam rise up around me. Was it just this morning that a bullet had slammed into wood inches from my nose? In the safety of the steamy bathroom it all seemed far away. Maybe this army deal was going to work out after all, as long as the bullets didn’t get any closer. I wondered what it was going to be like for the poor GIs landing on the cold shores of Norway. They’d have more than one stray bullet to worry about, and there wouldn’t be a warm bath afterward. Oh well. Real tough for them, but no reason not to enjoy a good tub.
Hours later a knock on the door woke me from a nap. I threw on a bathrobe and shuffled over, bleary eyed but almost clear headed, my automatic held behind my back.
“Who is it?”
“Room service,” answered the singsong voice. Daphne. I opened the door and could smell the soup before I saw it. I settled into bed and let her arrange the tray around me, my. 45 on the nightstand. Kaz came in with a bottle of wine, and I didn’t even want to sock him. It was all quite cozy.
“Well?” I asked. “How did it go? Were the Norwegians happy?”
“Billy,” Kaz smiled as if he were explaining the obvious to a child, “it is impossible to tell if a Norwegian is happy. If we were talking about Poles, there would be dancing in the streets at the news that our homeland was going to be liberated. We would kiss the cheeks of our allies who promised invasion! Instead, the king solemnly stood and shook Cosgrove’s and Harding’s hands. Moving in its own way, but not very demonstrative.”
“Darling, shaking hands is demonstrative for those from the cold northern climes. Can you imagine Major Cosgrove’s expression if the king had kissed him?” Daphne laughed and covered her mouth like a schoolgirl. Kaz looked at her with a smile on his face and an expression that said, Is there any guy luckier than I in the whole world?
Harding knocked and came in, carrying a bottle of Bushmills Irish whiskey in one hand and his briefcase in the other. He raised the bottle in a salute. “Thought we might celebrate. Couldn’t have gone better today.”
“Well, I might disagree about that, if I were dumb enough to argue with a man carrying Bushmills.”
“Sorry, Boyle, I meant the conference. How’s the head?”
“I’m feeling fine, sir.” It was easy to remember to call Harding “sir” when he was holding my favorite brand. He went up a notch in my estimation as he poured each of us a generous portion. “What happens next?”
Harding took a seat, leaned back, loosened his tie, picked up a glass tumbler, and took a sip. He looked tired, and for the first time I saw him as something more than a hardnosed paper pusher. Worry showed on his face in the dark circles under his eyes and creases in his forehead. It struck me how close I was to the center of everything, the historic first strike back at the Nazis. I felt like I was… important. I tried to sit up a little straighter.
“I just finished a preliminary briefing session with Norwegian Brigade and commando officers in the map room. We went over the basic tactical plan, and we’ll finish up in the morning. Then we head back to London and start coordinating with the U.S. and British divisional commands.”
“Can you tell me what the plan is?” All of a sudden I thought I was a military genius and I didn’t want to be left out.
“I guess so,” said Harding cautiously. “Now that we’ve briefed the Norwegians it should be all right. Remember, this is still TOP SECRET. I just spent the last half hour securing the invasion plans and maps in the map room downstairs. This information can’t leave the building, understood?”
We all nodded eagerly, pledging silence, our lives, our firstborns, whatever it took. I was hooked. Just like I was hooked the first time I worked a homicide. I knew then that I was different from everyone else, set apart from the concerns of everyday life that swept everyone else forward, on a river of errands, work, dates, drinking, eating, and sleeping. I was going in a different direction, toward revelation and retribution, and there were damn few of us headed that way. This was like that. I was going to see behind the curtain, see what lay ahead for thousands of people, tens of thousands-Germans, Yanks, Brits, Norwegians, soldiers, sailors, civilians, old men, pretty girls, knee-scraped kids. They all were living their lives, doing what they were told to do, waiting to find out what was going to happen, if they thought about it at all. I wouldn’t have to wonder. I’d know. Harding had pulled a long folded map of the Norwegian coast out of his briefcase and spread it out over the bed. He tapped it with his pen as he ticked off the main points.
“Primary landings will be just west of Oslo, with the Norwegian Brigade in the first wave along with one U.S. infantry division and a British tank brigade. There’ll be a secondary Anglo-American landing at Stavanger in order to capture an airfield. Also various diversionary commando raids up the coast in order to keep the Germans off balance. We’re also working on a landing in force in the Nordland province, just north of the Arctic Circle. There’s a point near Fauske where Norway narrows to just about forty miles between Sweden and the North Sea. We’ll make a line there to cut off any reinforcements from the Narvik area, secure the airfield at Bodo, and create an area to build up forces to complete the campaign.”
“What about air and naval forces?” asked Kaz.
“We actually hope the Germans will commit their navy. With the Royal Navy and the American naval units that are still arriving, we should decimate them if they intervene. The Luftwaffe is another matter. We’ll have air cover for the invasion, but if we don’t capture those airfields intact and get our fighters in the air over Norway.. ..”