typewriters. Perched on a table, was Major von Poncets, commander of the 4th Battalion, 138th Mountain Regiment, talking animatedly with one of his staff officers.
'Sturmbannfuhrer Kurz and Reichsamtsleiter Scheidt?' he said, sliding off the table and extending a hand. 'I was told you'd be coming.'
'You seem busy here, Major,' said Scheidt.
Von Poncets laughed. 'My men are going to be attacking the enemy lines at Tretten later. Fortunately the Tommies don't seem to have either mountain troops or aircraft, so outflanking their positions is proving easier than we'd hoped.'
'The men certainly seem in good heart,' said Scheidt.
'Of course,' von Poncets said. 'We're winning!' He clapped his hands together, then said, 'I've got some men for you from the Reconnaissance Battalion of the 6th Mountain Regiment.' He turned to one of his staff officers and asked him to fetch Hauptmann Zellner. 'He's commander of 1 Company and his men are here,' he said, turning back to Kurz and Scheidt. 'He'll be with us shortly.'
'And a company is how many?' Scheidt asked. 'A hundred?'
Von Poncets smiled. 'I take it you're not a military man, Herr Reichsamtsleiter.'
Scheidt noticed Kurz smirk. 'No,' he said. 'I wasn't quite old enough for the last war. I've been fortunate enough to serve the Reich in other ways.'
'And, of course, we need people like you,' said von Poncets, slapping him convivially on the arm. He added, 'No, Zellner's company is nearer two hundred, although I'm afraid I've told the battalion commander I need most of his men for the fight here. But one platoon of fifty or so should be more than enough and you do have a company commander to lead them. Don't forget these men are trained for operations in the mountains. As I said, the Tommies have no such troops, while the Norwegians - well, they haven't had any training at all.' He laughed. 'We're attacking again this afternoon with the outflanking manoeuvre following our initial assault, so unless these fellows reach Tretten within—' he consulted his watch '— the next hour, I would say they're as good as in the bag.'
'Aerial reconnaissance suggested that was likely,' added Kurz.
'Ah, here he is now,' said von Poncets, as a young officer entered the room and saluted crisply. He was dressed differently from the troops outside: although he wore the long grey trousers, puttees and studded brown ankle boots that marked out these units, over his field tunic he had on a thick green-grey cotton wind-jacket, into which was tucked a wool scarf, and a mountain cap, with an embroidered Edelweiss on the left side. A pair of tinted round lenses rested on the peak. Hauptmann Wolf Zellner stared ahead implacably.
'Stand easy, Zellner,' said von Poncets. 'I've told these gentlemen that you are taking just one of your platoons.'
'Yes, sir. The rest of the company, under Lieutenant Biermann, will be taking part in the attack on Tretten.'
'And you're sure that will be enough men?' Scheidt asked.
Zellner glanced at von Poncets. 'Yes, sir. I think that will be plenty. I don't wish to sound arrogant, Herr Reichsamtsleiter, but one platoon of my men will be more than enough for a few fugitives like these.'
'And the Reconnaissance Battalion is particularly well suited to high mountain operations,' added von Poncets, 'having trained extensively in the Bavarian Alps. Hauptmann Zellner has been fully briefed - but if there's anything else you'd like to add, Herr Reichsamtsleiter? Sturmbannfuhrer?'
'I want to underline how important this man Odin is, Hauptmann,' said Scheidt. 'He could be of vital - and I mean vital - importance to Germany. He must be captured alive. Whether you kill the others or take them prisoner is of no consequence to me. But Odin I must see in person. You have his photograph?'
'Yes, sir,' Zellner replied. 'You can depend on me and my men, sir. We'll find him for you.'
Von Poncets had lit a cigar, and now a puff of smoke swirled lazily into the room. 'Good,' he said. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen .. .' He smiled once more. 'I've a battle to win.'
Zellner saluted again, then left.
Outside, the sky was clouding over, but the air was still crisp and cold. His boots sounded loud, the metal studs clicking through the thin slick of mud caused by too many vehicles, carts and men trampling across it. He would have preferred to be taking part in the attack on Tretten, leading his company into battle, yet von Poncets, apparently, had insisted. Well, he now knew where that had come from - the politician, he was certain. But at least this mission gave him a chance for revenge. These were the men he'd so nearly caught five days ago north of Elverum. There had been no mention of anyone called 'Odin' then. All they had been told was that the Norwegians were carrying important documents and even Crown Jewels - but now he'd read the briefing sent by the SD and there could be no mistake. They were the same men. And this time he was not going to fail.
By noon the mixed column of British, Norwegian and French, twenty-two strong, was still some miles southeast of Tretten. Even though the French scouts had led them off the mountain plateau and into the treeline, the going had been tough. The stretch of the valley west of Oyer, before it snaked north into the Tretten gorge, was wider and the slopes gentler. Here, fields spread high above the wide Lagen river, and even where there was forest, it was far less dense than it had been. The high fields had forced them to stay well above the farmland, where the snow was deeper - not just because of the altitude but because the slopes were less precipitous and cover from the trees not so great. Even the Chasseurs Alpins struggled, the men frequently losing their footing, or taking a stride forward only to find themselves buried to their waists in drifts. Tanner had been forced to admit to himself that his claim that they would cover seven miles in three hours had been over-optimistic. Still, if he had been at fault in his calculations, he laid the blame for their slow progress with Chevannes. If they had left the seter whe n he had suggested, they would have had more than six hours' start.
It had been shortly after noon that the tell-tale sounds of battle had begun in the valley below. More aircraft had droned over, while the dull thud of artillery fire, although intermittent, had resounded ominously. The unwavering German battle plan Chevannes, it seemed, had judged that about right.
A little more than four hours later, they were nearing Tretten, the valley sides steeper once more. The wide farmland to the south had gone, the forest thickened and the snow thinned, and progress had improved. Below them, the shelling had increased, the medium howitzers booming more insistently now. The whistle of the missiles' flight could occasionally be heard, and the reports of the ensuing explosions echoed through the valley. A flight of bombers arrived, dropping their loads with a rip of detonations. Occasional small-arms chatter drifted to them on the afternoon breeze.
Chevannes called a halt. The men were exhausted, Tanner included. Once again, hunger was gnawing at him, as he knew it must be at the others. Their faces were drawn and blank with fatigue. Several of his men, Hepworth among them, fell asleep where they sat on rocks or against a tree stump.
Chevannes and Larsen consulted the map once more.
The Frenchman looked directly behind him to a peak marked as the Skj0nsberg. 'We're no more than three kilometres from Tretten,' he said.
'Then we should start dropping into the valley,' said Tanner, who had walked over to join the impromptu conference. 'If we head slightly north-west, we can aim straight for Tretten. It'll be easier and quicker than if we continue north along the lip of the plateau.'
'What about the Germans?' said Larsen.
'They haven't started their infantry attack yet, have they? If we get a move on—'
'No,' said Chevannes, cutting him short. 'That's far too risky. We head due north, then cut down to the village. Two more minutes, then we get going.'
Tanner walked back to his men. 'Come on, lads,' he said. 'Nearly there now. Then this'll be over. One last effort, eh?' He shook Hepworth awake. 'Hep, come on, up you get.' Hepworth opened his eyes, nodded bleakly and stood up, stumbling backwards from the weight and awkward balance of his pack. 'Remind me never to go up a mountain again, Sarge,' he said.
