It was a slow drive along the coast road. Bernie’s Ford had been riddled with bullets during the gunfight, smashing the windshield and perforating the radiator, and now it was a matter of finding a place to ditch it.
Peter, Vincent and Hanne rode in the Opel, trailing Bernie in the Ford as he limped along the two-lane blacktop. After a few minutes, Bernie pulled over and turned off the engine. He walked back to the Opel.
“I’m going to let it cool down a bit,” Bernie said. “Let’s have a look at that wound.”
Peter pulled off his coat and suit jacket. His shirt was drenched in blood. He shivered as he removed his shirt. Bernie switched on the overhead light and examined Peter’s wound.
“It’s not too bad, guv. It’s a flesh wound, in and out. I have some whisky in my car. We can clean it up and wrap it tight. You should be all right, old chum.”
Driving along the coast road, Bernie had to pull over several times to cool off the engine. They packed lumps of snow onto the radiator and waited. They were making progress, but it was taking way too much time. Bernie finally stopped near a bridge spanning an estuary. Vincent pulled up behind him and they got out to take a look.
“What do you think, guv?” Bernie asked.
Peter looked up and down the road. The bridge had a fairly high railing, but the road had no fence at all and there was a very steep incline down to the water twenty feet below.
“It’ll do. Let’s get this done,” Peter said.
There was no time to waste. Bernie got to work switching out the license plates and emptying the boot. So far, their luck has held, and they had not seen any other traffic on the road. Peter heard the rasp of the Ford’s engine as Bernie drove the Ford across the incoming lane towards the incline. He pulled up with his front tyres on the grassy verge. Vincent ran to the back of the Ford, ready to push the car as Bernie climbed out of the Ford.
“Let’s give it a push,” Bernie yelled to Vincent.
Bernie guided the Ford down the slope with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the door frame. The car moved slowly at first but quickly gained momentum as Bernie spun away from the door. It picked up speed, leaving Vincent sprawling in its wake. Peter watched as the Ford rolled off the bank into the water with a splash. Bernie laughed as his old car settled in the water and started to sink.
Ten minutes later, they were on their way to Stockholm with Vincent driving.
“I got a look at the warehouse, guv,” Bernie said. “The SD is importing antiques into Sweden. The crates had ‘Antiquitäten’ written all over them.”
“Stolen antiques for resale?” Peter asked.
“It could be. They are flogging gold, silver, and artworks. Why not antiques?” Bernie asked.
“No, that doesn’t make sense, Bernie. The cost to ship and the resale value. I think they must be the personal effects of well-to-do German Legation staff. By shipping their personal effects to Sweden, they probably want to protect them from Allied bombing and plunder by the Soviets.”
“They might belong to German citizens,” Bernie said, “who are moving here.”
“Yes, that’s possible,” Vincent said. ”Lots of Germans are applying for visas to stay in Sweden after the war.”
Hanne woke up next to Peter in the back seat.
“Hanna’s waking up,” Peter said. “We need to give her something to drink. I think she’s dehydrated.”
“Take my thermos,” Bernie said. “Give her some tea.”
“Peter, is that you?” Hanne asked.
“You’re going to be all right, Hanne,” Peter said in a soothing voice. “We’re taking you home.”
The light was coming up in the east as the car stopped in front of the Ansell flat. Peter helped Hanne out of the backseat as Elsa and Bridget emerged from the house. Elsa ran forward to embrace Hanne and Vincent. Together they led Hanne towards the house. Bridget came over and kissed Peter.
“You’re bleeding, Peter!” Bridget said, looking at Peter’s arm. “What happened?”
“It’s not too bad, a flesh wound.”
“Let’s get you inside and have a look.”
“The Gestapo was sending Hanne off to Germany on a fishing boat. We got there in the nick of time.”
“I’m going to fetch Sabrina, guv,” Bernie said. “You’re going to need stitches. Sabrina used to be a nurse.”
“What are you going to do with the car?” Peter asked.
“Well, you know my old Ford was in need of repair, so it’s not a big loss. I think I prefer this German Opel. It’s a newer model and runs well.”
“Well, you must keep it, then.”
Bridget led Peter towards Vincent’s flat as Bernie drove off.
“One more to go,” Sabrina said as Peter winced at the pain in his arm. Sabrina put in the final stitch, closing the wound. She had given him a local anaesthetic before thoroughly cleaning the wound and stitching it up, but it was not very effective against the pain.
Elsa had put Hanne in her bed so she could sleep it off, as the others celebrated their success. Bernie and Vincent were drinking aquavit at the kitchen table as Bridget sat near Sabrina watching her work.
“Bridget, I’ve cleaned it as best I can, but you’ll need to keep an eye on it,” Sabrina said. “If an infection develops, he’s going to need to see a doctor.”
Bridget nodded as Sabrina dressed the wound with a roll of white gauze.
Vincent was getting drunk on the aquavit as he unwound from the stressful events on the dock. “What a night! I can’t believe we succeeded.”
“You did a magnificent job,” Elsa said. “You saved my Hanne. That is the important thing.”
“And I’ve got a new car,” Bernie said. “The Opel beats my old Ford any day.”
As Sabrina joined the others at the kitchen table for a glass of aquavit, Bridget handed Peter a telegram.
“I went back to the Legation earlier to see whether there was any news,” Bridget whispered. “There was this message from London, Peter.”
Peter opened the envelope and started to read.
“It’s Keith. He wants me to come to London for a meeting - off the books, he says. I will need to request a short leave for personal reasons.”
“That’s very good, Peter. He must be making progress.”
“I hope so.”