‘Must be fabulously interesting. Knowing all about birds.’
‘It is,’ said Boland. ‘Ask any man.’
Julie laughed through even white teeth. ‘Yes. I expect he knows a good deal about them too.’
‘Not me,’ said Ferret. ‘Married. Strictly lawn-mowing type.’
‘I wonder.’
Ferret reached the counter; Haakon Jern apologized to Olufsen, turned to the American. The proprietor spoke little English, enough to serve customers and handle a modest chat. ‘Evening, Mr Ferret.’
‘Evening, Mr Jern. Two bottles of Mack lager and some Gejtost cheese and biscuits. Those small square ones.’ Ferret pointed to the packets on the shelf.
Jern busied himself with the order. When he’d lined it up he said, ‘Your friend. He come tonight?’
‘He’ll be along soon, I guess.’
‘The work on the birds. Okay?’
‘Yeah. Just about finished. We’ll be moving on to Rost. Tomorrow maybe.’
‘Oh, Rost. Many birds there. A fine island. Beautiful, you know.’
‘So I hear. What’s that I owe you?’
‘Twenty-three kroner, please.’
Ferret paid, put the beer, cheese and biscuits on a metal tray and made his way to the table by the door. It was an unpopular pitch, cold and draughty. Jim Plotz came in soon afterwards. He took a glass and poured a lager. ‘I need this. Long time no drink.’
‘Vince okay?’
‘Yeah. He’s on the bed reading.’
Ferret looked at his watch. It was almost half past ten. Another hour to closing.
Plotz leant forward. ‘Seen them?’
‘Yeah. Don’t look now. Over in the corner. Opposite the Kestrel lot.’
‘What are they doing?’
‘The usual. Drinking lager, talking a little, listening mostly. Gerasov can’t keep his eyes off the English bird.’
‘Don’t blame him. The more I see her the dishier she gets.’
‘It’s abstinence, Jim.’
‘You can say that again. Usual crowd here?’
‘Just about. The French boys haven’t shown up yet. They missed the evening meal too.’
‘That so? Maybe they’re stuck on the mountain.’
‘Don’t envy them. I reckon there’s fog coming.’
Just then Odd Dahl the lensman came in and joined Kroll and Lars Martinsen.
While he talked to Jern, Olufsen leaned against the counter, relaxed and casual, his wide eyes on the room, missing nothing. He’d seen the arrival of Ferret and Plotz, noted the absence of the Frenchmen and checked the position of the Russians’ table relative to that occupied by the Daisy Chain party.
When the music stopped Boland slipped more coins into the juke-box and it started up again.
Nunn said, ‘Good. Keep the bloody thing going.’
‘Think there’ll be fog?’ Julie frowned.
Nunn shrugged his shoulders. ‘Looks like it.’
‘Could help,’ said Boland.
‘Could be a flaming disaster.’ Nunn looked at Julie. She’d hung the sheepskin coat over the back of the chair. Her blue denim slacks were faded and patched and over the black sweater a medallion on a silver chain emphasized the curve of her breasts. ‘You’re quite a dish, aren’t you?’ he said.
‘You feeling well, Steve?’ It was the first time he’d seemed to notice her. She’d long ago put him down as a misogynist.
‘I’ve been watching Gerasov. Can’t keep his eyes off you. I wondered why. So I checked. Simple as that.’
‘Bully for you. Such compliments.’
‘No. Don’t get me wrong. He does, doesn’t he?’
‘Does what?’
‘Looks at you as though…’ he trailed off.
‘He’d like to rape her,’ suggested Boland.
‘For your information one of the reasons he looks at me as though he’d like to rape me,’ said Julie, ‘is that I’ve shown in a distant maidenly way that I’d like him to. Men always fall for that.’
‘How do you do this in a maidenly way?’ asked Nunn.
Julie shook her head. ‘I give up. Hasn’t anybody told you the facts of life?’
‘Of course,’ said Boland. ‘But it was a long time ago. He’s forgotten.’
Julie looked at her watch. ‘Almost another hour,’ she said. ‘I feel all churned up.’
‘If you want to feel relaxed, watch Gunnar,’ said Nunn. ‘You wouldn’t think he’d a care in the world.’ He looked across to where Olufsen was leaning on the counter talking to Haakon Jern.
‘Or that he had a .38 Smith and Wesson stashed under that denim jacket.’
‘Mine feels like a socking great boil under my armpit,’ said Boland.
‘I’m the fastest gun in the islands.’ Nunn did an imaginary draw. ‘Practised in the radhus loo this afternoon. Accidentally bashed the door three times. The attendant came and asked me if I was all right.’
‘Great,’ said Julie. ‘Gives a girl confidence.’
Nunn looked at her. ‘To return to your charms, Julie.’ His eyes were on her medallion. ‘Don’t forget when thanking our friends, you speak English to them — not Russian.’
‘For Pete’s sake, Steve. That’s the fourth time. I’m not a moron.’
‘No. But you got it wrong at rehearsal.’ He tweaked her nose gently. ‘Remember? You spoke Russian.’
‘A girl can make a mistake.’
‘They often do,’ said Nunn. ‘Sorry my twitch count’s high tonight. Don’t like waiting.’
‘Who does?’ said Boland.
‘The important thing,’ Nunn paused while the juke-box switched to Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head, ‘is that Julie gets out of here before K and G. The moment we see them move she makes for the door. Gets well ahead.’
‘So kind of you,’ said Julie, ‘to remind me of my role. I hope you’ve not forgotten yours. Remember I haven’t a gun.’
‘Just as well,’ said Nunn. ‘It’s a dodgy do anyway.’
‘Get lost,’ said Julie. ‘And I don’t approve of violence. I hope…’
‘Look out!’ Nunn did a stage hiss. ‘Don’t look. K’s on the move.’
Julie reached for her shoulder-bag. Nunn put out a restraining hand. ‘Hold on. Gunnar’s watching but he’s not given the signal. K’s going to the counter. No. No he’s not. It’s the loo. Christ! They’re forgetting their drill. They usually go together. Old Russian custom.’
‘What’ll I do?’ whispered Julie urgently.
‘You can’t go with him,’ said Boland.
‘Wait,’ said Nunn. ‘For chrissake, just wait.’
Gunnar Olufsen was still leaning on the counter, one foot over the other, talking to Jern. For a split second his eyes held Nunn’s. Then he turned back to the proprietor. As he did so his elbow caught the counter. The glass he was holding dropped from his hand, clattered to the floor. ‘The signal,’ whispered Nunn. ‘Stand by.’
They saw Krasnov open the swing-door beyond the jukebox. It lead down the passage to the lavatories: men on the right, women on the left.
Gunnar Olufsen looked at his beer-stained trousers. ‘Excuse me Haakon. I must fix these. I’m soaked.’ In a leisurely, unhurried way, he made for the swing-door. He passed the Kestrel table, winked at its occupants, went through the door. In a very quiet voice Nunn said, ‘Julie, give Gerasov the works.’ He turned to Boland. ‘Get moving, John.’
Julie said, ‘I’m giving him all I’ve got. But he’s fiddling with his wallet, blast him.’
Boland emptied his glass, stretched, yawned, said a few words to his companions and walked slowly down the room between the tables and out of the front door.
Nunn said, ‘Okay, Julie. I’m off. Over to you.’ He stood up, went to the swing-door and passed through it.