“Which one?”
“The Havmand.”
“The Havmand? A merman? No.”
Laila resumed walking, a dreamy look on her face. “They say he swims the Øresund bringing information and equipment between Sweden and Denmark.”
“Swims? The water’s freezing most of the year.”
“That’s what they say.” Laila shrugged. “It’s horribly romantic, don’t you think?”
“It is.”
“He’s breaking the law, you know.”
Else nodded. If the story were true—in some variation—the man was willing to break the law and risk his life.
Even as carousel music arose, cheery and bright, Else frowned. She’d always been careful not to do wrong, but people in the resistance had no such qualms.
They claimed to be doing right.
Could doing wrong ever be right?
Laila was printing the news, the truth, which was right. But the Germans called it wrong, as did the Danish government.
Laila and this Havmand, if he existed, were opposing evil, and opposing evil was right.
Else’s mind whirled like the carousel, up and down and round and round. Was it right to do wrong to do right?
11
VEDBÆK
SATURDAY, MAY1, 1943
Thorvald Thorup licked one finger and raised it to test the wind. “Couldn’t ask for better conditions.”
Henrik leaned back against the stone wall of the boathouse at Lyd-af-Lys. Sunlight sparkled on the Øresund, and a gentle breeze played with the water. “I should have a good crossing tonight.”
“As long as you stay clear of mines and patrols.”
Not much Henrik could do about those, especially on a moonless night.
Thorup lifted a face reddened and lined from a lifetime outdoors. “Days like this almost make you forget there’s a war on.”
“Mor loved springtime at Lyd-af-Lys.”
“She was a good woman. She taught you well.”
Henrik let out a scoffing little laugh. “I doubt she’d agree.”
“She would the last few years. I see a lot of her in you.”
Henrik studied the man. Thorup wasn’t going senile, was he? “Nonsense. I’m like my father.”
Thorup shrugged. “Sure, you used to have his sharp tongue and you could be rude to the staff. And we’d all go running when you and your father fought. But you’re your mother’s son. You’vealways watched out for other people. I always thought you had so much...” His face clouded over.
Henrik’s throat constricted, but he forced out the word. “Potential.”
