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 Reichsamtsleiter, I've heard all this from Terboven. Of course we will do what we can. But my forces are engaged in a battle atOtta. 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.
'You do not have children yourself, Sergeant?' Larsen asked.
'No, sir.'
'I have two girls, a little younger than these.' He sighed. 'I do not mind telling you, Sergeant, that I miss them terribly. This war.. .' He shook his head. 'It is a terrible thing.'
'But you're a soldier, sir. One of the few Norwegian professionals.'
'Yes - you are right. And I should not say this, but if I am honest, I never expected to fight. I thought I would remain a member of His Majesty's Guard in Oslo, but not that Norway would find itself at war. We are neutrals, Sergeant.'
'Yes,' said Tanner, 'you're not the first to say so. We British are a bit more used to it. There's not a year goes by without a bit of fighting, war or no war.'
Tanner finished the first model and gave it to the elder child. He had just begun a second when their mother entered the barn and spoke with Larsen. She was, he guessed, perhaps thirty, with a thin, kind face. The fear in her eyes that had been so evident when they had first descended on the farm had gone, soothed by the soldiers' apparent harmlessness and by the reassuring return of her father-in-law. But the anxiety was still there. Tanner could hardly blame her. It was brave to take in Allied soldiers with the Germans only a short way off.
She looked at her daughters and the model Tanner had made, smiled, then spoke with Larsen.
'What news?' Tanner asked him, once she had left them.
'Not much. The professor's asleep. Anna has put her medical training to good use.'
On their arrival at the farm, Chevannes had ordered Tanner to organize guards, so he had. One was stationed in the attic at the top of the house from which there was a clear view of the valley they had walked up earlier, while the other stood guard outside Sandvold's room. Each man did two hours on, four hours off; only the officers were exempt. Later, when Tanner and McAllister went into the farmhouse to relieve Kershaw and Erwood, he had a chance to talk to Anna.
She looked tired, Tanner thought, as they sat on the wooden floorboards of the second-floor landing. 'You must get some rest too, you know,' he told her.
'I will.' She leant her head against his shoulder. 'I could fall asleep now.'
'Why don't you? I can listen for you.'
For a moment there was silence between them. Downstairs, they could hear chairs scraping, the children talking. In the hall at the bottom of the staircase, an old grandfather clock ticked methodically.
'At least he's going to be all right,' said Anna at length.
'He is?'
'Yes. It's exhaustion more than anything. He's twenty- five years older than most of us, not a young man. Ten days he's been on the run now, tramping over mountains, across rivers and lakes without proper sleep or food.'
'And he's been shot at, strafed and bombed.'
'Yes. It creates a great strain, physically and mentally. And the professor's a scientist, a city-dweller. It's not surprising that his body is rebelling. Oh, and he has migraines. I pity anyone who does - a terrible affliction. If you get a bad one, you can do nothing except lie in a dark room until it passes.'
'And your prognosis, Doctor?'
'The migraine should have passed by the morning. I expect the fever will subside too.'
'Will he be able to walk?'
'He'll be a bit weak, but possibly.'
'We could always make a stretcher.' Tanner sighed. 'I know this can't be helped, but the moment he can move again, we must leave. God knows where the front is now, but one thing is for certain: our forces are only going backwards. To have any hope of catching them up again, we can't afford to stay here too long.'
'Let's pray he sleeps well tonight, then.'
'You too, Anna. If we get going tomorrow, we all need to be rested.' Her face was truly lovely, he thought. The eyes, the gentle arc of her eyebrows, the curve of her lips. She moved her head, her eyes turned to his. Leaning down, he kissed her. Suddenly it seemed the most obvious and natural thing in the world.
A long night and an even longer morning. The rain had passed, and so had the professor's fever, but the head- shattering migraine was proving more stubborn. The men were restless; so, too, were Astrid Madsen and her father-in-law. It was clear they had had enough of sheltering a disparate bunch of soldiers.
And that damned clock, ticking away the seconds, the minutes, the hours. Tanner had taken over guard duty again outside Sandvold's room at around noon, and all the time he waited there he could hear it, reminding him that time, a precious commodity, was passing. He had felt more at ease on the mountain at Uksum Farm, where at least he could see the valley spread before them and watch the enemy's movement. Here they were hidden; the view back down the valley was not a long one - and it had occurred to him that they might now just as likely see German troops approaching from the north.
At one, Anna checked on the professor again, clasping Tanner's hand as she passed him. Reappearing a few minutes later, she said, 'The migraine has subsided. We can leave.'
Tanner breathed out heavily. At last.
The old farmer helped make a stretcher from two lengths of wood and an old piece of tarpaulin. The professor protested half-heartedly that he was capable of walking, but after nearly collapsing down the stairs that led from the farmhouse, he acquiesced. He looked ill, Tanner thought, his eyes dark hollows and his skin sallow.
'Are you sure he's fit to travel?' Tanner asked Anna.
'He is weak, but if he is on a stretcher he will be fine. It is no worse for him than lying on a bed. He needs rest, that is all.'
At least the others were now refreshed, Tanner thought. With the exception of Nielssen, who had kept his beard, the men were now cleanshaven once more, the sloping shoulders and foot-dragging of the previous morning replaced by a renewed vigour that was clear from the moment they set off.
They skirted the lake, then turned
north-west, back under the protection of the forest and beneath the snowcapped peak of the Bringsfjellet. There was birdsong: the first Tanner had heard since he'd arrived in Norway. Among the pines and silver birch he could pick out a missel-thrush, a lark, and even a woodpecker. His mood lightened.
Aircraft appeared occasionally in the sky and at one point a Messerschmitt 110 had swept by close enough to make them take cover, but otherwise they had not seen a soul. By evening they were approaching the Otta valley, only a few miles from Vagamo, the small town that Tanner hoped would provide the gateway for their continued escape north.
They found a boarded-up seter among the trees beside a mountain brook, shielded behind a wooded outcrop. It was, Tanner knew with satisfaction, a good place to base themselves while they prepared the crossing. Hidden from the air by the dense covering of surrounding birch, alder and pine, it was also shielded from the valley below. On the other hand, the outcrop, climbing sharply half a mile beyond, would provide an ideal observation post from which they could watch the town and the lake.
He had barely spoken a word to Chevannes since he had hit the man the day before, so he turned now to Larsen and the professor. 'We need to have a look round,' he said, 'perhaps from this knoll.'
As he had hoped, Larsen suggested this to Chevannes, who silently concurred. Leaving the others at the seter, Tanner climbed through the trees, scrambling over patches of bare rock, until he reached the summit. From there the view stretched far and wide, the valley before them and the mountains on the far side in sharply defined clarity. With his naked eye, Tanner spotted the bridge crossing the mouth of the river, and the road along which he hoped they could escape, snaking through a valley to the north-west of the town. Now he peered through his binoculars. The bridge was of iron construction with wooden boarding across it, seventy to a hundred feet wide, he guessed. The town itself was set back from the river and, he now realized, spread more round a small, lesser river coming down from the valley beyond. He cursed; he'd not noticed that on Anna's map. Dark timber-framed buildings lined the main road and there was a wooden church, with what looked like a separate bell-tower next to it. And, yes, trucks and German military vehicles parked round an open area beside the church.
The Odin Mission Page 28