The curtain came down, and the audience applauded. It came up again to reveal the cast, minus Karen and Anders, and they took a bow.
The Duchwitzes went out, and Harald followed.
They hurried to the stage door. An usher took them to Karen’s dressing room.
She was sitting with her right arm in a sling. She looked stunningly beautiful in the creamy white gown, with her shoulders bare and the rise of her breasts showing above the bodice. Harald felt breathless, and did not know whether the cause was anxiety or desire.
The doctor was kneeling in front of her, wrapping a bandage around her right ankle.
Mrs. Duchwitz rushed to Karen, saying, “My poor baby!” She put her arms around Karen and hugged her. It was what Harald would have liked to do.
“Oh, I’m all right,” Karen said, though she looked pale.
Mr. Duchwitz spoke to the doctor. “How is she?”
“She’s fine,” the man said. “She’s sprained her wrist and ankle. They’ll be painful for a few days, and she must take it easy for at least two weeks, but she’ll get over it.”
Harald was relieved that her injuries were not serious, but his immediate thought was, Can she fly?
The doctor fastened the bandage with a safety pin and stood up. He patted her bare shoulder. “I’d better go and see Jan Anders. He didn’t fall as hard as you, but I’m a bit worried about his elbow.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
His hand lingered on her shoulder, to Harald’s annoyance. “You’ll dance as wonderfully as ever, don’t you worry.” He left.
Karen said, “Poor Jan, he can’t stop crying.”
Harald thought Anders should be shot. “It was his fault-he dropped you!” he said indignantly.
“I know, that’s why he’s so upset.”
Mr. Duchwitz looked at Harald with irritation. “What are you doing here?”
Once again it was his wife who answered. “Harald has been living at Kirstenslot.”
Karen was shocked. “Mother, how did you know?”
“Do you think nobody noticed how the leftovers disappeared from the kitchen every night? We mothers aren’t stupid, you know.”
Mr. Duchwitz said, “But where does he sleep?”
“In the disused church, I expect,” his wife replied. “That would be why Karen was so keen to keep it locked.”
Harald was horrified that his secret had been so easily unveiled. Mr. Duchwitz was looking angry but, before he could explode, the King walked in.
Everyone fell silent.
Karen tried to stand up, but he stopped her. “My dear girl, please stay just where you are. How do you feel?”
“It hurts, Your Majesty.”
“I’m sure it does. But no permanent damage, I gather?”
“That’s what the doctor said.”
“You danced divinely, you know.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The King looked inquiringly at Harald. “Good evening, young man.”
“I’m Harald Olufsen, Your Majesty, a school friend of Karen’s brother.”
“Which school?”
“Jansborg Skole.”
“Do they still call the headmaster Heis?”
“Yes-and his wife Mia.”
“Well, be sure to take good care of Karen.” He turned to the parents. “Hello, Duchwitz, it’s good to see you again. Your daughter is marvelously talented.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. You remember my wife, Hanna.”
“Of course.” The King shook her hand. “This is very worrying for a mother, Mrs. Duchwitz, but I’m sure Karen will be all right.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. The young heal fast.”
“Indeed they do! Now, then, let’s have a look at the poor fellow who dropped her.” The King moved to the door.
For the first time, Harald noticed the King’s companion, a young man who was assistant, or bodyguard, or perhaps both. “This way, sir,” said the young man, and he held the door.
The King went out.
“Well!” said Mrs. Duchwitz in a thrilled voice. “How very charming!”
Mr. Duchwitz said, “I suppose we’d better get Karen home.”
Harald wondered when he would get a chance to speak to her alone.
Karen said, “Mother will have to help me out of this dress.”
Mr. Duchwitz moved to the door, and Harald followed him, not knowing what else to do.
Karen said, “Before I change, do you mind if I have a word alone with Harald?”
Her father looked irritated, but her mother said, “All right-just be quick.” They left the room, and Mrs. Duchwitz closed the door.
“Are you really all right?” Harald asked Karen.
“I will be when you’ve kissed me.”
He knelt beside the chair and kissed her lips. Then, unable to resist the temptation, he kissed her bare shoulders and her throat. His lips traveled downward, and he kissed the swell of her breasts.
“Oh, my goodness, stop, it’s too nice,” she said.
Reluctantly, Harald drew back. He saw that the color had returned to her face, and she was breathless. He was amazed to think his kisses had done that.
“We have to talk,” she said.
“I know. Are you fit to fly the Hornet Moth?”
“No.”
He had feared as much. “Are you sure?”
“It hurts too much. I can’t even open a damn door. And I can hardly walk, so I couldn’t possibly operate the rudder with my feet.”
Harald buried his face in his hands. “Then it’s all over.”
“The doctor said it would only hurt for a few days. We could go as soon as I feel better.”
“There’s something I haven’t told you yet. Hansen came snooping around again tonight.”
“I wouldn’t worry about him.”
“This time he was with a woman detective, Mrs. Jespersen, who is a lot smarter. I listened to their conversation. She went into the church and figured out everything. She guessed that I’m living there and that I’m planning to escape in the aircraft.”
“Oh, no! What did she do?”
“Went to fetch her boss, who happens to be Peter Flemming. She left Hansen on guard and told him to shoot me if I try to take off.”
“To shoot you? What are you going to do?”
“I knocked Hansen out and tied him up,” Harald said, not without a touch of pride.
“Oh, my God! Where is he now?”
“In the trunk of your father’s car.”
She found that funny. “You fiend!”
“I thought we had just one chance. Peter is on a train and she didn’t know when he would get in. If you and I could have got back to Kirstenslot tonight before Peter and Mrs. Jespersen, we could still have taken off. But now that you can’t fly. .”
“We could still do it.”
“How?”
“You can be the pilot.”
“I can’t-I’ve only had one lesson!”
“I’ll talk you through everything. Poul said you had a natural talent for it. And I could operate the control stick with my left hand some of the time.”
“Do you really mean it?”
“Yes!”
“All right.” Harald nodded solemnly. “That’s what we’ll do. Just pray for Peter’s train to be late.”
30
Hermia had spotted Peter Flemming on the ferry.
She saw him leaning on the rail, looking at the sea, and recalled a man with a ginger moustache and a smart tweed suit on the platform at Morlunde. No doubt several people from Morlunde were traveling all the way to Copenhagen, as she was, but the man looked vaguely familar. The hat and glasses put her off for a while, but eventually her memory dredged him up: Peter Flemming.
She had met him with Arne, in the happy days. The two men had been boyhood friends, she seemed to recall, then had fought when their families quarreled.
Now Peter was a cop.
As soon as she remembered that, she realized he must be following her. She felt a chill of fear like a cold wind.
She was running out of time. The full moon was three nights away, and she still had not found Harald Olufsen. If she got the film from him tonight, she was not sure how she could get it home in time. But she was not going to give up-for the sake of Arne’s memory, for the sake of Digby, and for all the airmen risking their lives to stop the Nazis.