Leo did not seem to notice it. Readjusting his clothing, he frowned. “What’s in the can?”
“Water, for my motorcycle.”
“Oh.” Leo yawned. Then he jerked a thumb at the bush. “We’re not supposed to. .”
“Forget it.”
Leo nodded, and stumbled away.
Harald stepped into the church. He paused a moment, closing his eyes, getting over the tension. Then he poured the fuel into the Hornet Moth.
As he approached the petrol tanker for the eighth time, he saw that his plan was beginning to fall apart. Karen was walking away from the tree stump, back toward the woods. She gave the sentry a friendly wave, so they must have parted on good terms, but Harald guessed the man had some duty he was obliged to perform. However, he was walking away from the tanker, toward the mess tent, so Harald felt able to carry on, and he refilled the can.
As he carried it into the woods, Karen caught up with him and murmured, “He has to light the kitchen stove.”
Harald nodded and hurried on. He poured the eighth canful into the aircraft’s tank and returned for the ninth. The sentry was nowhere to be seen, and Karen gave him the thumbs-up sign to indicate that he could go ahead. He filled the can for the ninth time and returned to the church. As he had calculated, this brought the level to the brim, with some left over. But he needed an extra canful to carry in the cabin. He returned for the last time.
Karen stopped him at the edge of the wood and pointed. The sentry was standing beside the petrol tanker. Harald saw with dismay that, in his hurry, he had forgotten to return the nozzle to its hook, and the petrol hose dangled untidily. The soldier looked up and down the park with a puzzled frown, then returned the nozzle to its proper place. He remained standing there for a while. He took out cigarettes, put one in his mouth, and opened a box of matches; then moved away from the tanker before striking his match.
Karen whispered to Harald, “Haven’t you got enough petrol yet?”
“I need one more can.”
The sentry was strolling away with his back to the lorry, smoking, and Harald decided to take a chance. He walked fast across the grass. To his dismay, he found that the tanker did not quite conceal him from the soldier’s angle of view. Nevertheless he put the nozzle in the can and started to pump, knowing he would be seen if the man chanced to turn around. He filled the can, replaced the nozzle, screwed the cap on the can, and walked away.
He was almost at the woods when he heard a shout.
He pretended to be deaf and walked on without turning around or increasing his pace.
The sentry shouted again, and Harald heard running boots.
He passed into the trees. Karen appeared. “Get out of sight!” she whispered. “I’ll head him off.”
Harald darted into a patch of shrubbery. Lying flat, he wriggled under a rambling bush, dragging the can with him. Thor tried to follow him, thinking this was a game. Harald smacked him sharply on the nose, and the dog retreated, his feelings hurt.
Harald heard the sentry say, “Where’s that man?”
“You mean Christian?” Karen said.
“Who is he?”
“One of the gardeners. You’re terribly handsome when you’re cross, Ludie.”
“Never mind that, what was he doing?”
“Treating diseased trees with the stuff in that can, something that kills those ugly mushroom growths you see on tree trunks.”
That was inventive of her, Harald thought, even if she’s forgotten the German word for fungicide.
“This early?” Ludie said skeptically.
“He told me the treatment works best when it’s cool.”
“I saw him walking away from the petrol tanker.”
“Petrol? What would Christian do with petrol? He doesn’t have a car. I expect he was taking a shortcut across the lawn.”
“Hm.” Ludie was still uneasy. “I haven’t noticed any diseased trees.”
“Well, look at this.” Harald heard them take a few paces. “See that growing out of the bark like a great big wart? It would kill the tree unless Christian treated it.”
“I suppose it would. Well, please tell your servants to keep clear of the encampment.”
“I will, and I apologize. I’m sure Christian meant no harm.”
“Very well.”
“Goodbye, Ludie. Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll be here.”
“Bye.”
Harald waited a few minutes, then he heard Karen say, “All clear.”
He crawled out from the bush. “You were brilliant!”
“I’m becoming such a good liar, it’s worrying.”
They walked toward the monastery-and suffered another shock.
As they were about to leave the shelter of the woods, Harald saw Per Hansen, the village policeman and local Nazi, standing outside the church.
He cursed. What the hell was Hansen doing here? And at this time of the morning?
Hansen was standing still, legs apart and arms folded, looking across the park at the military encampment. Harald put a restraining hand on Karen’s arm, but he was too late to stop Thor, who instantly sensed the hostility Karen felt. The dog erupted from the woods at a run, made for Hansen, stopped at a safe distance, and barked again. Hansen looked scared and angry, and his hand went to the holstered gun at his belt.
Karen whispered, “I’ll deal with him.” Without waiting for Harald to reply she went forward and whistled to the dog. “Come here, Thor!”
Harald put down his can of petrol, dropped to a crouch, and watched through the leaves.
Hansen said to Karen, “You should keep that dog under control.”
“Why? He lives here.”
“It’s aggressive.”
“He barks at intruders. It’s his job.”
“If it attacks a member of the police force, it might be shot.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Karen said, and Harald could not help observing that she displayed all the arrogance of her wealth and social position. “What are you doing, snooping around my garden at the crack of dawn?”
“I’m on official business, young lady, so you mind your manners.”
“Official business?” she said skeptically. Harald guessed she was pretending to be incredulous in order to get more information out of him. “What business?”
“I’m looking for someone called Harald Olufsen.”
Harald murmured, “Oh, shit.” He had not been expecting this.
Karen was shocked, but she managed to cover up. “Never heard of him,” she said.
“He’s a school friend of your brother’s, and he’s wanted by the police.”
“Well, I can’t be expected to know all my brother’s schoolmates.”
“He’s been to the castle.”
“Oh? What does he look like?”
“Male, eighteen years old, six feet one inch, fair hair and blue eyes, probably wearing a blue school blazer with a stripe on the sleeve.” Hansen sounded as if he were reciting something he had memorized from a police report.
“He sounds terribly attractive, apart from the blazer, but I don’t recall him.” Karen was maintaining her air of careless disdain, but Harald could see the tension and worry on her face.
“He’s been here twice at least,” Hansen said. “I’ve seen him myself.”
“I must have missed him. What’s his crime, failing to return a library book?”
“I don’t-that is, I can’t say. I mean, it’s a routine inquiry.”
Hansen obviously did not know what the crime was, Harald thought. He must be asking on behalf of some other policeman-Peter Flemming, presumably.
Karen was saying, “Well, my brother has gone to Aarhus, and there’s no one staying here now-apart from a hundred soldiers, of course.”
“Last time I saw Olufsen, he had a very dangerous-looking motorcycle.”
“Oh, that boy,” Karen said, pretending to remember. “He was expelled from school. Daddy won’t let him come here anymore.”