by CW Browning
“Then we continue on, but we must try to move towards friendly forces,” Anna argued. “If the Germans do sweep inland, we’ll never make it on our own.”
“That’s true, too,” he admitted.
Evelyn exhaled.
“All right. We’ll go north until I can reach London,” she said reluctantly. “But if we run into any fighting, I’ll argue that we move east towards Sweden if I haven’t got through to my handlers.”
“Agreed,” Anna said with a nod. “Peder, how much longer do you need? I’ve finished filling the tank.”
“I’ll try for a bit longer,” he said. “If I haven’t got through in ten minutes, we’ll continue. Do either of you know how to drive?”
“I do,” Evelyn said. “Do you want me to drive?”
“If you do, I can sleep.”
“I don’t mind,” she said with a smile. “In fact, I enjoy driving. You stay back there and sleep. As long as Anna is willing to tell me where I’m going, we’ll be fine.”
“Good. I’ll sleep and then continue trying to get through on the radio for you,” Peder said, stifling a yawn.
“I’ll go pay for the petrol.” Anna turned towards the building on the other side of the small pump. “And I suppose I will warn them of what’s going on.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Evelyn offered, but Anna waved her away with a smile.
“No. Go familiarize yourself with the car. I’d rather not end up in that ditch over there.”
Evelyn was betrayed into a laugh and turned to go around to the driver side door. The likelihood of her landing them in a ditch was virtually non-existent, but Anna had no way of knowing how skilled a driver she was. Her only regret was that she didn’t have the speed of Gisele’s Bugatti or her own Lagonda. Or Miles’ Jaguar.
Evelyn slid behind the wheel of the Volvo, her smile fading with the thought of Miles. He would be horrified if he had any inkling of where she was or what she was doing. He thought she was in Wales on a training course. Instead, while he was flying his Spitfire on patrols over the English Channel and having drinks at the pub, she was fleeing across Norway ahead of the German army with two compatriots who were risking their own lives to help her. Miles could never learn the truth, and as the war went on, the secrets and the lies would only continue to build until she didn’t know if he would ever forgive her.
And that was almost as terrifying as the prospect of being caught by the advancing Germans.
Chapter Nineteen
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Oslo, Norway
8am
Eisenjager glanced up at the apartment building before him and moved out of the way as the door swung open and a man rushed out, carrying a suitcase in either hand. His hat was askew on his head and he looked startled to see someone standing on the pavement outside the building. After a quick glance, he turned and hurried up the street. Eisenjager watched him go, wondering if the man had a plan or if he was simply fleeing with no clear idea of where he was going to go. His lips twisted faintly. He would be better off staying put in his apartment. The Germans would be here soon and then life would continue as normally as possible. Unless, of course, the man was a Jew. If that were the case, the faster he fled the better for him.
Turning back to the building, Eisenjager walked up to the door and went inside. He had gone to the boarding house where Jian was staying, only to discover that she had fled in the night ahead of the invasion. Hardly surprising when the guns at the battery on the fjord had begun firing at four in the morning. The advance warning had come earlier than any of them had expected, and as a result his pigeon had flown the coop. It couldn’t be helped, of course. All he could do now was try to determine in which direction she had gone, and then follow. And to do that, he had to begin with the woman she had been having dinner with last night at the Hotel Bistro.
Going over to the mailboxes on the lobby wall, he searched for the woman’s name. Salvesen. There it was. She was on the third floor. He turned and started towards the stairs. She worked at the British embassy, but he thought it very unlikely that she would have gone to work this morning. After all, the city was under siege, or very soon would be. Going to work would be the last thing on her mind.
He climbed the stairs, looking up as a couple came clamoring down from the second floor. They carried suitcases, and he moved to the side as they ran by. The man nodded to him, and Eisenjager nodded back pleasantly, turning to watch as they continued down the stairs to the ground floor. Another couple running from the advancing Germans. The streets were clogged with them, people trying to get out of the city and away from the invading troops they knew were coming. What they didn’t realize was that there was nowhere to go. Norway was being overrun and the borders secured. There was no way out.
Reaching the third floor, he turned and moved along the corridor until he reached the door with a little nameplate next to it that read Salvesen. Lifting his hand, he knocked loudly and waited, listening. There was no sound from the other side of the heavy wooden door and he frowned, lifting his hand to bang again.
“She’s not there.”
A voice spoke behind him and he turned to find an older woman standing in the doorway across the hall. He hesitated, then smiled.
“I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” he said in Norwegian. “Do you know Miss Salvesen?”
“Yes. She’s been my neighbor for over a year now.” The woman looked him up and down. “Are you from the embassy?”
“No. I’m a salesman. I had an appointment with her this morning.” He moved across the hall until he was standing before her and removed his hat politely. “Do you have any idea when she’ll return?”
“No. She had a visitor very late last night.” The woman frowned. “A young man. I don’t approve of men coming to visit single woman like that. It’s not decent. I’ve never known Anna to have one up that late before. She’s a nice, good girl. Of course, now I know he was probably coming to warn her.”
“Warn her?”
She looked surprised. “About the Germans, of course.”
“Oh yes, of course.” He smiled apologetically. “Did she leave with him?”
“Yes. I saw them get into his car in the street.” She tilted her head and looked up at him. “She had a case with her. I don’t think she’s coming back very soon. She locked everything up tight. I can’t say that I blame her. Most of the building has left already. Doors have been slamming and people running out of here for the past two hours or more.”
“You aren’t leaving?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Where am I going to go? This is my home. I’ve got nowhere else.”
He nodded and his face softened slightly. “You will be just fine. I’ve traveled extensively in Germany over the past year. They are a good people. They will not bother you.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I think you’ll find that I am,” he said with a smile, replacing his hat and bowing slightly. “Thank you.” He started to turn away, then paused and turned back. “You don’t happen to remember what kind of car they were in, do you?” he asked.
She thought for a moment. “Yes, as a matter of fact I do. It was a black Volvo. A ‘37 PV51, I think.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprised. “You know the make and model?”
“My son has one and I remember thinking to myself, oh that’s just like Stefan’s car. Of course, Stefan’s is much nicer. He runs a factory in Asker and can afford to maintain his automobile. The young man last night clearly could not. Or perhaps he purchased it from someone who didn’t take very good care of it.”
“It wasn’t in very good condition, then?”
“It’s not so much that it was in bad condition, but it looked...worn, if you know what I mean. Like it needed a good clean and a shine.” She shrugged. “I suppose they are expensive to take care of, though. Everything is these days.”
The woman frowned and thought for a long moment, her brows pulled together.
“A, of course, and I think it was followed by a 5, but it could have been a 6,” she said slowly. “I was looking out the window and it was at an angle, you see. I’m sorry.”
He smiled engagingly and tipped his hat to her. “That’s quite all right, ma’am. You’ve been very helpful. I wish you the best of luck.”
London
10am
Bill strode into his office and took off his coat. He’d just returned from a meeting in Whitehall and his mood was even more grim than it had been when he departed two hours before. After hanging up his coat and removing his hat, he turned to go to his desk. Picking up the telephone, he dialed the radio room.
“This is Buckley,” he said when it was picked up. “Anything yet?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Thank you.”
He hung up and the scowl on his face grew. It had been over eight hours since Evelyn’s last transmission. She should have contacted again by now. Where the devil was she? Daniel Carew had sent three messages over the course of the past four hours, keeping him updated with the progress of the Germans. Things were not looking good at all, and he would feel much better once he’d heard from Evelyn.
The door opened and Wesley came in carrying a tray with a teapot, cups and saucers.
“I saw you come back and thought you could probably use some tea,” he said, carrying the tray over to the desk. “How did it go?”
“It’s not good.” Bill dropped into his chair. “The Germans have taken control of all the airfields in Norway. Paratroopers secured them at the same time that the Luftwaffe was busy dropping bombs on all the major ports. Their Blitzkrieg is carving the Norwegians up, and it all looks like child’s play.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned his head back tiredly. “Narvik has fallen, as well as Bergen, Trondheim and Stavanger. Oslo is overrun. They marched in behind a bloody brass band, for God’s sake!”
Wesley glanced up from where he was pouring tea into the cups. “What of Kristiansand?”
“The same. The Germans are already past the landing points and moving inland.” Bill dropped his hand and exhaled heavily. “No word yet on the King. As far as we know, he’s still safe.”
“If the Germans manage to get him, rest assured, they’ll crow it loud enough for the world to hear,” Wesley said, handing him a cup of tea. “No news is good news, I’m sure.”
“I wish I could say the same with confidence about Jian,” Bill muttered, taking the cup and saucer.
“Still no word?”
“No. We should have heard something by now.”
“Do we know what she’s using for a radio?”
“It’s a private wireless. I have no idea whose it is, or who’s transmitting, but they know our call signs, frequency, and her code, so they must be with her.” He sipped the hot tea and sighed again. “One thing working in her favor is that no one knows she’s there, so no one will be looking for her. If she can avoid the advancing troops, she’ll be safe enough until we can get her out.”
“How will you do that, sir?” Wesley sat down with his tea. “If she can’t get to Sweden, how do you propose to extract her from Norway in the middle of all this?”
“Montclair is arranging it. The navy has ships on the way. One of them will land Royal Marines at Namsos. If she can get there at the same time, the captain has agreed to take her aboard and get her to Scapa Flow.”
“When are they expected to land?”
“On the 14th.”
Wesley shook his head. “That’s five days from now,” he said. “Will she last five days?”
“She’ll have to.” Bill set down his tea and rubbed his face. “Carew thinks that translator who helped her in Stockholm is with her. If she is, then I like Jian’s chances of making it out of there.”
“Could the translator be the one with the radio?”
“It’s possible.”
“It could be that they just haven’t been able to get through,” Wesley said after a moment. “It must be insane there right now. Perhaps they’re trying and just can’t get a signal out.”
“That’s what I’m pinning all my hope on,” Bill told him grimly. “The alternative is...well, you know what the alternative is.”
His assistant nodded soberly and sipped his tea. After a moment, he glanced up.
“What of the Norwegian forces?” he asked. “What will they do?”
“The King is still alive and urging resistance. They’ll regroup. Hitler caught them unprepared and surprised them, but they will rally quickly behind their king.”
“And if the King is captured?”
“Then God help them all.”
RAF Duxford
Miles watched as the ground rushed up to meet him and felt his wheels bounce once before the Spitfire settled onto the grass and began to coast along the landing strip. He reached up and slid the canopy back, taking a deep breath as fresh air rushed into the cockpit. Chris was coming around to land behind him and he steered the plane to the end of the strip, turning it to park it alongside Rob’s kite. Shutting the engine down, he stood up and turned to climb out of the cockpit onto the wing.
“Have a good flight, sir?” called Jones, one of the ground crew sergeants, running over to push chocks in front of the wheels.
“It was extremely uneventful, Jones,” he replied, jumping off the wing onto the ground.
“Don’t worry, sir. It’ll pick up now.”
Miles looked at him curiously, but before he could question the man, Rob called to him from across the grass.
“Ho, Miles!” he yelled. “Hurry!”
Miles raised his eyebrows and started towards the dispersal hut, glancing up as Chris came into land. Both his wheels were down, he noted wryly, watching as the Spitfire seemed to float down to settle on the ground. The Yank had had a rather dodgy run of bad luck a few months ago, leading to a particularly hairy landing without wheels. Ever since, they had all got into the unconscious habit of checking for the landing gear, especially when Chris came in to land.
“What is it, Ainsworth?” he called, raising his eyebrows as Rob waved his arms to get him to hurry.
“They’ve invaded Denmark and Norway!” Rob called back. “The Germans are finally on the move!”
The amusement disappeared and Miles stared at him, dumbfounded.
“What?”
“Denmark and Norway,” Rob repeated as Miles drew closer. “Jerry invaded them this morning! It’s all over the wireless.”
Miles quickened his pace. “When?”
“At dawn.” Rob turned and went towards the dispersal hut, increasing his pace to match Miles’ long stride. “They hit both Denmark and Norway. Denmark surrendered immediately.”
“And Norway?”
“The news is just coming on now. Come and hear for yourself.”
Miles nodded and pulled off his flying gloves as he followed Rob into the hut. The rest of the squadron was there already, sprawled in the available chairs. Someone had brought in a wireless radio and hooked it up at the back, turning the volume up loud enough for them all to hear. Miles nodded in greeting to the dispersal sergeant and leaned against the wall just inside the door as the BBC news program began.
“This is a special broadcast of the BBC Home Service. German forces invaded Denmark and Norway early this morning, taking the northern countries by surprise. At 5:20 this morning, German envoys in Oslo and Copenhagen presented the Norwegian and Danish governments with an ultimatum, demanding that they immediately accept the protection of the Reich or be prepared to go to war with Germany. The ultimatum was accompanied by an invasion fo
rce of German troops. Denmark agreed to surrender immediately, allowing German forces to proceed into the country unopposed. In Oslo, Norwegian Foreign Affairs Minister Halvdan Koht returned the following reply: “We will not submit voluntarily. The struggle is already underway.” An hour before the ultimatum was handed to the Norwegian government, a German cruiser carrying invasion troops was hit and sunk in the Oslofjord by Norwegian defenses. German troops are landing in Norway, while the Luftwaffe is bombing strategic targets ahead of the advancing troops. The harbor towns of Stavanger, Bergen, Trondheim and Narvik are all involved in the fighting, in addition to Oslo. Norwegian King Haakon and his entire government has escaped Oslo while Norwegian forces try to repel the invading forces.”
Miles glanced at Rob to find him staring at the floor while he listened, his lips pressed together.
“So that’s that, then,” said Slippy, one of the pilots closest to the wireless set, when the news had ended. “Hitler went after Norway. Here we all thought he was going to go into Belgium and Holland.”
“Oh, he will, don’t worry,” Rob said, lifting his head. “This is just the beginning.”
“What’s Jerry want with Norway?” Hampton drawled from near the window. “Aside from snow, what have the Norwegians got?”
“A way to get iron,” Miles said. “Jerry gets his iron from Sweden, and trains carry it through Norway when the ports in Sweden freeze over in the winter.”
Slippy tilted his head and looked at Miles. “How do you know that?”
“I pay attention to world affairs.”
“Rotten luck for the Norwegians,” Slippy muttered. “All of that for some iron that’s not even theirs?”
“Why is everyone crammed in here?” An American voice interrupted and Miles turned to watch Chris step into the hut. “What’s going on?”
“Germany’s gone and invaded Denmark and Norway,” Miles told him, turning to leave the overcrowded hut. “The others will fill you in.”