Authors: James Holland
'No,' said Sandvold. 'I am not under your orders,
Lieutenant. I am a civilian. I have already been dragged from my home and I
have come this far without complaint or protest, partly because His Majesty the
King has requested that I do so, and also because I have no desire to become a
prisoner of the Germans. Sergeant Tanner is surely right. We must stop
bickering and leave now.'
Chevannes was silent, then glanced at Larsen and
Nielssen, hoping for support, but found none.
'Maybe there's something in what he says,' said
Nielssen.
Chevannes clenched his fists, then smacked his right
hand hard and flat against the wall. 'Very well,' he said stiffly. 'We leave
now.'
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?'