Excerpt from Select Editions’ Hornet Flight
Harald had spent the day brooding over his plight. The presence of police
at his brother Arne’s hideout almost certainly meant that Arne
had been found out. If by some miracle he had evaded arrest, he might
be hiding in the old monastery at Kirstenslot, so Harald had driven
there and checked. He found the place empty.
He
had sat on the floor of the church, alternately grieving at his brother’s
fate and trying to figure out what he should do next. If he were to
finish the job Arne had started, he had to get the film to London. Arne
must have had a plan for this, but Harald did not know what it was and
could not think of a way to find out.
He
wondered where Arne was now. Probably in a cell in the Politigaarden
in Copenhagen, being interrogated. Would Arne talk? Not at first, Harald
felt sure. Arne would not crumble immediately. But would he have the
strength to hold out? Harald had always felt there was a part of Arne
he did not fully know.
That
evening, Harald told Karen the whole story—about getting into the
military base on Sande, taking photographs of the mysterioius radar
equipment, then pretending to be asleep while the soldier searched his
parents’ house.
“You’ve
got such nerve!” she exclaimed.
He
was pleased by her admiration, but it pierced his heart to know that
his brother was in custody. He wondered grievingly if he would ever
see him again. But there were more lives at stake. “Arne won’t
be able to get the film to England.”
“How
was he going to do it?”
“I
don’t know. He didn’t tell me.”
They
were silent for a while. Harald felt depressed. Had he risked his life
for nothing? “Have you heard any news?” he asked.
“Finland
declared war on the Soviet Union. So did Hungary.”
“Vultures
scenting death,” Harald said bitterly.
“It’s
maddening to be sitting here while the Nazis are conquering the world,”
Karen said. “I wish there was something we could do.”
Harald
touched the film canister in his trousers pocket. “This would make
a difference if I could get it to London.”
Karen
glanced at the Hornet Moth. “It’s a pity that won’t fly.”
Harald
looked at the damaged undercarriage and the torn fabric. “I might
be able to repair it. But I’ve only had one lesson. I couldn’t
pilot it.”
Karen
looked thoughtful. “No,” she said slowly. “But I could.”
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