The Odin Mission

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 Reichsamtsleiter, 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.

'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 enemy is here,' said Chevannes, also looking through his binoculars. 'We will never get across.'

'Not in daytime,' said Tanner.

'What should we do?' asked Larsen.

Chevannes said nothing, so Tanner went on, 'Sir, with your permission I’d like to carry out a reconnaissance tonight.'

'What are you thinking? Crossing further east down the river?' said Larsen.

'No. I was considering crossing the lake. Look.' He pointed westwards. 'See that spur jutting out? And there's another on the other side. What's that? Two miles from Vagamo? The crossing would be quite narrow there. Jerry'll be pretty thick along the river between the town and Otta, but there's no need for him to go further west. There's nothing on the road west of Vagamo at all. I reckon we can get across there tomorrow night when it's dark, then double back and cross into the valley beyond, bypassing the town altogether. With any luck we'll pick up some M/T along there.'

'It means another long delay,' said Larsen.

'We need that road beyond,' Tanner said. 'It's the only clear route to Andalsnes. I admit it's a risk, but what alternative is there? One thing's for sure, we're not going to get through Vagamo with all those Jerries there.'

'You have a point, Sergeant,' agreed Larsen

Chevannes nodded. 'Very well. Do your reconnaissance tonight, Sergeant, and then we will decide.'

Tanner smiled to himself. A plan had already formulated in his head. A plan to solve all of their problems.