Chevannes clenched his fists, then smacked his right hand hard and flat against the wall. 'Very well,' he said stiffly. 'We leave now.'
Chapter 18
Reichsamtsleiter Scheidt could hardly believe it was only six days since he had last stood in this corridor at the Bristol Hotel; somehow, it seemed like a lifetime ago. As he waited to see the Reichskommissar, he bit his fingernails and paced uneasily. Coming back to Oslo was a gamble - a horrible one - and he was uncertain how Terboven would react. By the door, the two SS guards stared ahead implacably, unmoved by Scheldt's agitation.
At last the door opened and an Allgemeine-SS officer in a pale grey uniform appeared and ushered him into the same top-floor suite where he and Quisling had first seen Terboven, then discreetly slipped away.
Although it was now morning, the room was still one of refined and subtle light. The Reichskommisar, behind his desk, was every bit as immaculate, not a hair out of place, his face smooth as glass. Already Scheidt felt inferior. He had driven through much of the night to reach the city. His suit was now creased, he had not shaved in eighteen hours and his right eyelid was
flickering with fatigue. Damn you, thought Scheidt.
Terboven was writing at his desk and did not look up as Scheidt entered and stood before him. At one point, he paused, glanced at the wall to his right, apparently deep in thought, then continued scribbling. The silence in the room was so complete that Scheidt could hear the nib scratching the paper.
It was an old trick to impose oneself and one's authority by keeping a subordinate waiting in agonizing silence. Nonetheless, Scheidt reflected, it was still an effective one. The bastard. He could feel the greasy sweat on his palms. A further minute or more passed, then Terboven stopped writing, carefully replaced the lid of his pen, laid it on his desk and said, with a hint of a smile, 'Ah, Reichsamtsleiter Scheidt - you are the bearer of good news, I hope?'
Scheidt's heart sank, but he looked Terboven directly in the eye. 'No, I'm afraid not.'
Terboven leant back in his chair, fingers together, and raised an eyebrow. Oh yes?
'We have located Odin several times and have been within a hair's breadth of capturing him but, alas, he has always eluded us.'
'You had my authority to use whatever troops you needed. How can this be possible?'
'General Engelbrecht has had his hands tied fighting the British and Norwegians. The most he could spare was a reconnaissance company of Gebirgsjager. These troops were lightly armed and met stiff resistance from a mixed company of British and French troops who have joined Odin and his Norwegian guardians. Killing them all has not been the difficulty; killing them and rescuing
Odin unscathed has, however, proved more challenging.'
Terboven nodded. 'And what about your "source"?'
'The information has been crucial, but sporadic. It is the nature of intelligence.'
Terboven leant towards his desk calendar. 'You have until tomorrow, Herr Reichsamtsleiter, until our deal is over. I don't mind telling you I'm rather surprised to see you here. I'd have thought that in the circumstances your time could have been used more profitably.'
'I'd like your help, Herr Reichskommissar.' He said it flatly and, he hoped, without any trace of panic or fear.
'I thought I'd already given you that.'
'You have, Herr Reichskommissar, but I'm here to ask you to speak with General Engelbrecht. The company of Gebirgsjager that he gave us - well, they have suffered heavy casualties over the past few days. Yet he refuses to give us more troops or equipment. I showed him your letter, but he insisted he had no more men to spare.'
'He has a battle to fight.'
'A battle he has all but won. His forces far outweigh those of the enemy. He can readily spare some men and equipment.'
Terboven brought his hands to his chin, and pursed his lips. 'My difficulty, Herr Reichsamtsleiter, is this. You are asking me to order a general in the field to redirect some of his forces at a time when he is engaged in heavy fighting - albeit a battle he is winning - but without my being able to give him much reason. Now, yes, I am Reichskommissar here, but there is nothing to stop General Engelbrecht from contacting the OKW in Berlin and complaining vociferously about such interfering.
When the OKW demands an explanation, I will have to tell them that I can't give them one but that Reichsamtsleiter Scheidt has assured me these troops are needed for a very good yet unspecified cause. "Yes, my Fiihrer," I will say, "Reichsamtsleiter Scheidt did work with Brauer, the disgraced ambassador."' He smiled. 'So you see, Scheidt, I think the time has come to stop the games and little subterfuges.' He leant forward, his elbows on the desk and eyed Scheidt carefully. 'My answer to you is therefore this: before I speak with General Engelbrecht, I want to know who this Odin is and why you think he is of such enormous importance.'
Scheidt swallowed. Of course he was going to demand this. 'I understand your position, Herr Reichskommissar,' he said, 'yet—'
Terboven cut him off. 'My dear Reichsamtsleiter, you have no other hand to play. But let me reassure you. If this man is as important as you say and if he does indeed fall into our hands, there may yet be a role for you here. At the very least, you will not suffer the fate of Brauer. You could return to Berlin with your career and reputation intact, if not enhanced.' Terboven took his spectacles from his nose and, with a silk handkerchief, began to polish them. 'So, no more games. Let's hear it. My patience is not inexhaustible.' Having replaced his spectacles, he stood up. 'Come, let's sit more comfortably,' he said, motioning Scheidt to the Louis XIV chairs in which they had sat six days before.
Of course, the Reichskommissar was right, Scheidt realized. Was there any truth in what Terboven had said about his future career? Really, Scheidt knew, that was irrelevant. He was now cornered and would have to play his hand. Odin's secret would be his no more. He sat, smoothed his tie and said, 'Very well. Odin, Herr Reichskommissar, is a scientist...'
Tanner's prediction about the rain had been correct. That morning it poured, soaking the men and turning the track through the valley to mud. But with the rain came low cloud. Above them, the mountains were invisible. Ahead, wisps of seemingly stray cloud hovered among the trees. Aero-engines could briefly be heard droning across the sky, but they never saw the planes. More importantly, as Tanner was well aware, the aircraft could not see them.
It was small consolation, and had done nothing to improve his dark mood. The humiliation he had suffered at the hands of Chevannes still preyed on his mind. How dare that bastard talk about him and Anna in front of his men? He hated people knowing his business and the thought of the others looking knowingly at him and Anna infuriated him. He had avoided her since. After all, what were they going to do? Walk through the mountains hand in hand? He could not deny that he found her attractive, or that he liked her, but now was not the time to be distracted. They had a mission to complete.
The valley climbed gently and, with the rain, the snow was receding almost before their eyes. Tanner pushed back his helmet and turned up the collar of his battle blouse, but still water dripped down his back, while the rain pattered noisily on his helmet. And while his jerkin was resisting the rain, his battle dress, so warm in cold, dry weather, was now heavy and sodden. His trousers clung to his legs. He stopped and, under the shelter of a pine tree, wrapped his remaining three packets of Nobel's and sticks of dynamite tightly in the German wind jacket and stuffed them back into his pack. The heavy canvas of their webbing protected the remaining rounds of ammunition, but the possibility of losing it to the wet was another thing to worry about.
So too was professor Sandvold's condition. As Tanner rejoined the column, he saw Anna and Larsen speaking with him, and Larsen put a hand on his shoulder. Alarm bells rang in Tanner's mind. After the professor's unexpected outburst at the farmhouse, Tanner had seen him put a hand to the wall to steady himself. He had pushed aside the first stab of concern as he had watched Sandvold set off from the farmhouse with a steady step.
Now Tanner
hurried along the wet track, splattering his boots and legs with mud. 'What's the matter?' he said, as he reached them.
'Nothing - really,' said Sandvold.
'He's got a temperature,' said Anna. 'Feel his brow.'
'A slight one, perhaps,' said Sandvold, but his teeth were chattering.
Tanner closed his eyes briefly. What next? he thought. 'Are you wet through yet?' he asked.
Sandvold shook his head. 'No. The Norwegian Army's greatcoats are first class.' He smiled thinly.
'How much have you drunk?' asked Anna.
'Enough, I think. I don't feel thirsty.'
'Water helps to bring a temperature down,' she said. ‘I’ll get some from the stream.' The others had gathered round them.
'What's going on?' demanded Chevannes.
'Nothing - please, I'll be all right,' said Sandvold. 'Let's keep walking.'
'He needs rest,' said Anna. 'We should look out for a seter or other shelter.'
Chevannes glared at Tanner, his implication clear: I told you we needed more rest. 'Very well,' he said. 'We'll keep going for now, but let's hope we find somewhere to rest soon.'
Luck was with them. They pushed on, more slowly now, but soon the western side of the valley folded away to reveal a mountain lake and an isolated farmhouse on a thin plateau of pasture between it and the stream.
Thank God, thought Tanner, then prayed they might find refuge there. Chevannes halted them and sent Larsen, with Anna, towards the farm. As they waited, Tanner walked away from the others and signalled to Sykes to join him. 'If one of them is a spy,' he said, hushed, 'this will give them another opportunity to make contact. We need to keep a close watch, Stan.'
'Why not talk to the others?'
'I don't want to frighten them.'
'Better that than Jerry turns up.'
Tanner thought for a moment. 'No, Stan. You know what they'll be like. They'll chatter among themselves. Mac or Hepworth will say something. I don't want to arouse suspicion. If there is a spy - and, let's face it, we don't have enough evidence yet to come out and accuse anyone - we want to catch them, not put them on their guard.' He patted Sykes's shoulder. 'No - you and I are going to have to take responsibility here.'
'All right, Sarge. You're the boss.'
Larsen returned. 'The farmer has gone to fight, but his wife is there with two small children and her father-in- law. He's out and about on the farm, but she says we can come in. Astrid Madsen is her name. Her father-in-law is called Claus Madsen.' He smiled wistfully. 'Two girls, they have. Beautiful children.'
Tanner and Nielssen helped the professor to his feet, but he staggered, so Nielssen took his arm and placed it round his shoulders. Tanner caught a glance from Anna: there was fear in her eyes, but what could he say? The professor was ill, and for the moment they could go no further.
Hurrying back to the Gudbrandsdal valley in Kurz's black Citroen, Reichsamtsleiter Hans-Wilhelm Scheidt had instructions to report to Generalmajor Engelbrecht's headquarters at Vinstra. The general, Terboven had assured him, would be far more compliant this time; the Reichskommissar had made it clear that he was to give every assistance to Scheidt and the SD in their quest to capture Odin. 'You will have the men and equipment you need,' Terboven had told him. 'Odin will not escape for lack of resources.' The Reichskommissar had spoken with General Geisler, the commander of the Luftwaffe in Norway, too. 'If you have any problems, Scheidt,' Terboven had told him, 'any problems at all, let me know. Understand?'
Now he looked out at the passing countryside through the rain-streaked window. The snow was melting in the valley, leaving ever more drab fields, grey-yellow from lack of sun. His gamble, he supposed, had paid off, but although he now had the support he had gone to Oslo to ask for, he felt no sense of elation. Rather, he could not stop thinking about what would become of him once the hunt for Odin was over. It was as though he had reached the endgame, not only for Odin but for himself.
In Lillehammer, he stopped at SD Headquarters, picked up Kurz and together they drove on to Vinstra. The signs of battle were obvious. Shell-holes littered the route. In places, the road had been only roughly repaired. Tretten was a pitiful sight: a collection of burnt and collapsed buildings, with rows of fresh graves dug in the fields leading away from the road. The scenes of destruction were similar in Favang and Ringebu, villages unfortunate enough to have played host to bitter fighting. Burnt-out vehicles and dead horses could be seen at every mile. In places, wide swathes of forest had been in flames. The smell of scorched timber hung in the valley, in places mingling with the stench of decomposing flesh, invading even the car as they swept through.
They found the commander of the 163rd Infantry Division in a large, ornate building a few hundred yards south of the railway station. He was in conference with several of his commanders, including Major von Poncets, and insisted they be ushered into his planning room, where a large map of the Gudbrandsdal valley had been hung on one wall.
He cut an impressive figure, Scheidt thought, immaculate in his field grey and glistening black cavalry boots, with a strong, square, youthful face and shaved head. He spoke clearly and crisply. Reconnaissance reports earlier that morning had suggested the British would be making a stand in battalion strength only. The first attack had been made a few hours earlier, but repulsed with heavy casualties.
'I had hoped we would force a way through quickly,' said Engelbrecht, 'but we must now wait and deploy in strength.'
'It's always easier for the defender to get away quickly, General,' said one of his commanders. 'The road between Sjoa and Otta is badly damaged. It's been a long night trying to get my guns in place. The rain hasn't helped either.'
'The engineers are working flat-out,' said another officer.
Engelbrecht nodded. 'Don't worry. Your artillery is now in place, is it not, Oberst?'
The colonel nodded.
'And, Major,' continued Engelbrecht, 'when will your two battalions be ready?'
'Any moment, Herr Generalmajor.'
'Good,' said Engelbrecht, rubbing his hands together. 'The Luftwaffe will bomb the British positions once more, followed by a short but concentrated barrage. Then Infantry Regiment 307 will attack on a wide front with von Poncets' men sweeping around the eastern flanks.' He smiled. 'That should do the trick. But I want everyone else to continue bringing their troops forward towards Otta. There must be no let-up.'
He dismissed his commanders, then turned to Scheidt and Kurz. 'Forgive me, gentlemen,' he said, shaking their hands and leading them into another room, which he had established as his office. 'Sit,' he said, pointing to two chairs in front of his desk. After offering them both a cigarette, he sat down. 'Now,' he said, 'I've spoken with the Reichskommissar and I assured him I will do what I can to help. So where do you think this elusive fellow is?'
'We're not sure, General,' said Kurz. 'We had contact yesterday to the west of Vinstra, then received a signal that they were heading for Sjoa.'
Engelbrecht laughed. 'Then I'm sorry to say they've most probably reached the British.'
Kurz shook his head. 'I don't think so, General. Yesterday evening we intercepted a message from the British Brigade headquarters in Otta to their HQ in Dombas informing them that they still had no news of Odin. Another intercept this morning confirmed they still have not made contact. They are as in the dark as we are.'
'And your intelligence is reliable?' Engelbrecht asked.
'I'm certain. It was picked up from an insecure civilian telephone line. The British have few radios - and what communication equipment they do have is far from secure.'
'Even so,' said Engelbrecht, 'you may have to accept that this fellow has already reached safety.'
'It's possible, yes,' admitted Kurz.
'The point, however, General,' said Scheidt, 'is that we must be ready to strike if and when we do hear news. Assume Odin is still at large and that there is much to be gained by his safe capture.'
'Yes, yes,' said Engelbrecht. 'Herr Reichs
amtsleiter, I've heard all this from Terboven. Of course we will do what we can. But my forces are engaged in a battle at Otta. This afternoon, or perhaps this evening, we will have beaten the British once more and the town will be in our hands. Thereafter, I will be in a better position to help, not least because, as you heard, most of my division will have caught up with the vanguard.' He smiled again. 'So it might be better for you if Odin is not only still at large but that he waits for us to clean up at Otta before making his whereabouts known again.'
As it happened, Odin was no more than twenty-five miles as the crow flew from Engelbrecht's headquarters. He was lying in a dark, shuttered room, with a perilously high temperature and a crushing migraine. He had vomited repeatedly, although now could only retch bile.
In the barn, the men had been fed - boiled eggs, chicken, bread and stewed apple. The old man and his daughter-in-law had been generous hosts. They had rested too, and the straw in the barn had helped dry their clothes. Above, the rain clattered on the red tin roof.
Tanner leant against some straw, carving a small aircraft from an old piece of wood with his bayonet and clasp-knife, watched by the two little girls, who sat beside him, cross-legged, their chins in their hands.
Larsen wandered over. 'You're a natural, Sergeant.'
'It's something to do. Anyway, you should have seen Corporal Sykes earlier. Had them captivated with his coin tricks.'
Larsen spoke to the children, then smiled. 'They want to know which will have the plane. Perhaps you should make two.'
It was nearly three o'clock, Tanner saw. He smiled ruefully. 'I've nothing better to do.' He had already checked his weapons, stripped and cleaned his rifle, then examined the working parts of the Spandau.
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