brigade. They’ll blow up some old Matilda tanks and chase off the local Home Guard chaps who are playing the Germans. Great fun. Then we’ll present this idiotic plan to the king and his men.”
“As you can tell, Billy,” Kaz offered, “Major Cosgrove thinks Operation Jupiter is doomed to fail.”
“Damned right, Baron! I took a Turkish bullet in this leg at Gallipoli during the Great War,” Cosgrove said, slapping his right knee. “That was another one of Churchill’s grand invasion plans. He mucked that one up and he’ll do the same in Norway, and you Americans are encouraging him down that road to disaster!” His voice rose and he punctuated the sentence by rapping the end of his cane on the floor. He sighed and finished in a quiet, resigned voice.
“We are not yet ready to invade any part of the continent.” His voice faded off and he tapped his cane on the floor, staring at it while silence hung around him. I didn’t know much about Gallipoli except that it was a failed invasion and that Cosgrove was lucky he got out of it with just a slug in the leg. Looked like he knew it, too.
“Well, Charles, that’s all been decided above our level,” said Harding. “‘Ours not to reason why’—isn’t that what the poem says?”
“Quite so, Samuel. Now tell me, what’s this young pup doing here?” That was me.
“Ike thinks he can help us with our Norwegian problem. He was a detective back in the States.” Harding shrugged to show Cosgrove it wasn’t his idea. At least he didn’t mention Ike was my uncle.
“He thinks a rosy-cheeked youth fresh from America can succeed where MI-5 have failed! You must be quite the detective, young man.”
“I am. As a matter of fact, I’ve already discovered something.”
“And what’s that?”
“We’re late for lunch.”
Cosgrove got up pretty quick for an old guy with a bum leg. It looked like he hadn’t missed many lunches lately and didn’t want to start now. We all filed out and tried to keep up with him as he propelled himself down the hallway, launching his bulk on each step with his cane. Must have been pretty sturdy wood.
“Don’t mind Charles,” Daphne half whispered to me. “He’s terribly gruff but he doesn’t mean to be rude.”
“Gruff I can handle. It’s the pickled herring I’m worried about.”
Daphne giggled and made a face at Kaz, who smiled back. I marveled at their nonchalance. They acted as if we were in a play and were moving on to the next scene. Maybe it was their way of coping with the fact that they were playing with the fates of nations and the probable deaths of thousands. Maybe it was the way of the titled upper classes. What did I know?
Damned little, and as we descended the staircase something about that thought began to bother me. I didn’t know why or what, but I felt like I did that time in Chinatown when I knew the guy coming out of the store in front of me was going to pull a gun. Not scared, but stunned at the sudden knowledge of what lay beneath the surface.
CHAPTERFIVE
I HAD NEVER HEARD Norwegian before, but I heard it loud and clear down the long hallway heading to the solarium. The sounds flowed out of the double doors and bounced off the paneled walls, doubling in volume as we approached. The words seemed hard and sing-songy at the same time. I had no idea what the voices were saying, but they were saying it at the top of their lungs.
“Don’t tell me they’re at it again?” Harding asked Cosgrove.
“Have been all morning. Skak is after the king to make up his mind about the senior adviser post. He keeps bringing up the gold.” Cosgrove puffed his cheeks and blew out air, in exasperation over the arguing or in exhaustion from hustling to lunch. Or both, but I was concentrating on something else.
Gold. The eight tons of gold I had read about, I supposed. Gold would complicate everything.
Before I could blurt out a question, an enlisted man dressed in a white jacket opened the glass
“As you can tell, Billy,” Kaz offered, “Major Cosgrove thinks Operation Jupiter is doomed to fail.”
“Damned right, Baron! I took a Turkish bullet in this leg at Gallipoli during the Great War,” Cosgrove said, slapping his right knee. “That was another one of Churchill’s grand invasion plans. He mucked that one up and he’ll do the same in Norway, and you Americans are encouraging him down that road to disaster!” His voice rose and he punctuated the sentence by rapping the end of his cane on the floor. He sighed and finished in a quiet, resigned voice.
“We are not yet ready to invade any part of the continent.” His voice faded off and he tapped his cane on the floor, staring at it while silence hung around him. I didn’t know much about Gallipoli except that it was a failed invasion and that Cosgrove was lucky he got out of it with just a slug in the leg. Looked like he knew it, too.
“Well, Charles, that’s all been decided above our level,” said Harding. “‘Ours not to reason why’—isn’t that what the poem says?”
“Quite so, Samuel. Now tell me, what’s this young pup doing here?” That was me.
“Ike thinks he can help us with our Norwegian problem. He was a detective back in the States.” Harding shrugged to show Cosgrove it wasn’t his idea. At least he didn’t mention Ike was my uncle.
“He thinks a rosy-cheeked youth fresh from America can succeed where MI-5 have failed! You must be quite the detective, young man.”
“I am. As a matter of fact, I’ve already discovered something.”
“And what’s that?”
“We’re late for lunch.”
Cosgrove got up pretty quick for an old guy with a bum leg. It looked like he hadn’t missed many lunches lately and didn’t want to start now. We all filed out and tried to keep up with him as he propelled himself down the hallway, launching his bulk on each step with his cane. Must have been pretty sturdy wood.
“Don’t mind Charles,” Daphne half whispered to me. “He’s terribly gruff but he doesn’t mean to be rude.”
“Gruff I can handle. It’s the pickled herring I’m worried about.”
Daphne giggled and made a face at Kaz, who smiled back. I marveled at their nonchalance. They acted as if we were in a play and were moving on to the next scene. Maybe it was their way of coping with the fact that they were playing with the fates of nations and the probable deaths of thousands. Maybe it was the way of the titled upper classes. What did I know?
Damned little, and as we descended the staircase something about that thought began to bother me. I didn’t know why or what, but I felt like I did that time in Chinatown when I knew the guy coming out of the store in front of me was going to pull a gun. Not scared, but stunned at the sudden knowledge of what lay beneath the surface.
CHAPTERFIVE
I HAD NEVER HEARD Norwegian before, but I heard it loud and clear down the long hallway heading to the solarium. The sounds flowed out of the double doors and bounced off the paneled walls, doubling in volume as we approached. The words seemed hard and sing-songy at the same time. I had no idea what the voices were saying, but they were saying it at the top of their lungs.
“Don’t tell me they’re at it again?” Harding asked Cosgrove.
“Have been all morning. Skak is after the king to make up his mind about the senior adviser post. He keeps bringing up the gold.” Cosgrove puffed his cheeks and blew out air, in exasperation over the arguing or in exhaustion from hustling to lunch. Or both, but I was concentrating on something else.
Gold. The eight tons of gold I had read about, I supposed. Gold would complicate everything.
Before I could blurt out a question, an enlisted man dressed in a white jacket opened the glass
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