troops. I have some names too: a Sergeant Tanner and a Lieutenant Chevannes. I have already been informed by the French about him. He's from the 6th Battalion, Chasseurs Alpins.'
'Ah, yes,' said Morgan. 'We had a company of them at Oyer.'
'Chevannes was on a mountain patrol a day earlier when he and his men went missing.'
'Then presumably Sergeant Tanner and his men were doing much the same.' Morgan stroked his chin thoughtfully. 'If you don't mind me asking, apart from the obvious reasons about the jewels, why is the King so particularly concerned about Professor Sandvold?
'That I cannot say. But I can tell you that it is what this man knows. He would be very valuable to the Germans - and to Norway, eventually. But there are concerns about him. In the early thirties he was a member of the National Party - he was a friend of Quisling's.'
'He was, you say?'
'Yes. We're not sure why, but he let his membership drop in 1934, and although he has never been particularly political, he was asked by the government - and, I understand, the King - to leave Oslo the moment the Germans invaded. But he did not, which was why Gulbrand, with the King in Hamar, was sent back to get him and take him to safety. It is a serious matter, Brigadier.'
'You doubt his loyalty?'
'Let us say it would be potentially catastrophic were he to fall into German hands.'
'I see.'
'I want you to find out more about this Sergeant Tanner and to keep a lookout for these men. I hate to think what might have happened to them. Gulbrand was under strict orders to kill Sandvold rather than let him fall into enemy hands, so it may be that he is already dead. However, I think it is better to assume he is not. It is one of the reasons I have been able to get ski troops down here for you. The King is determined that they should be found. I am sorry, Morgan - another thing for you to think about, but there it is. I just hope to God they are not already in German hands.'
The leading German soldier walked to barely five yards in front of Sergeant Tanner and Lieutenant Chevannes, then stopped. Tanner held his breath, his mouth as dry as chalk. Then to his amazement, the soldier hoisted his rifle on to his shoulder, fiddled with his fly buttons and began to urinate. Two of his comrades followed suit. By the trucks, soldiers were talking, lighting cigarettes, laughing even.
The German directly in front of Tanner broke wind, grunted, then looked into the inky darkness ahead of him and turned away. Don't make a sound, thought Tanner, then felt an overwhelming urge to scratch his chin; a blade of grass was tickling him - or was it an insect? Keep still, he told himself. Ignore it. He heard a rustle, small but distinct - one of the men moving - and froze. He could hear his heart thumping, and his breathing, however slight, seemed to him to be now strangely amplified. But none of the Germans appeared to hear anything.
Five minutes later orders were barked and the men were clambering back into the trucks. Engines started, a booming cacophony in the still night, and they were off, a dim column trundling down the road towards the front.
'Mon dieu,' whispered Chevannes. 'A lucky escape, Sergeant. And now for the crossing, non?' The sound of the column died away, but there was a faint breeze now. Around them the trees rustled. Tanner was relieved: when the air was as still as it had been, sound carried alarmingly. The breeze, however gentle, would help them. Gingerly clambering down the bank to the edge of the road, he reminded each man in turn of the drill: Anna was to lead. Lieutenant Chevannes would wait on the far side of the road while he himself would stay where he was, giving each man the signal to cross.
Everyone was there; everyone was ready. He ran back to Anna and Chevannes.
'All right,' he said. 'Let's go.' His hands were shaking and he felt sick. The enormous risk of what they were about to attempt struck him like a slap in the face. Jesus, what had he been thinking? It's our only chance, he reminded himself. He took two deep breaths, patted Anna lightly on the shoulder, saw the fear in her eyes, then watched her disappear into the darkness. Chevannes followed, then his own men and the Norwegians, Larsen, Nielssen and Sandvold, each half crouching, half running across the narrow road and down to the edge of the river. Damn it, they were so loud, he thought. Metal studs on tarmac. He grimaced; he'd not thought of that. Come on, come on, let's get this over with - but with every crossing, Tanner winced.
It was the turn of his own men now, and he touched each man's shoulder as they set off. More noise, jarring, from the river; Tanner tensed. The boats were being righted and taken to the water. Footsteps on the pebbles; someone tripping. Tanner groaned inwardly. 'For God's sake keep quiet!' he whispered. He knew they were trying, but they were heavily laden with their packs and haversacks, and most were carrying not one but two rifles - their own and the captured German Mausers. And, of course, there were those metal-studded boots - brilliant on the mountain, but hopeless for crossing a pebble beach in silence.
With Kershaw across, Tanner followed. Despite the noise from the riverbank, Tretten village itself seemed fast asleep, the teeming mass of men and war materiel that had crowded along the road only that morning now long since vanished, like a dream. He reached the river's edge. Anna and the Norwegians were in the first boat, two French troops rowing them away from the shore. Tanner wiped his mouth anxiously. Six in the boat - six with full kit - and more than the dinghy was designed for. As they moved out unsteadily, the small boat looked worryingly low in the water.
Chevannes, his remaining two Chasseurs, Erwood, Moran and Bell, clambered into the second and pushed off as Tanner, Sykes and the last of the Rangers struggled into the third, the craft tilting and lurching from side to side, water lapping against the wooden hull.
'For God's sake, try to keep it steady,' hissed Tanner. Holding the wobbling dinghy, he was about to clamber in when Sykes whispered, 'Where are the oars?'
'Didn't you pick them up?'
'I couldn't see any.'
Tanner cursed, then glanced around. It was hard to see clearly but the light from the stars cast enough of a glow to show him there were no oars to be found. Tanner could feel himself begin to panic so he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It worked. 'We'll have to use the Mausers. Everyone get to it. Use them like a canoe paddle.' He took his own from his shoulder and plunged it into the ice-cold water.
From the upstairs dormer window of Tretten station, on the west bank of the Lagen river, Hauptmann Wolf Zellner had a fine view of the bridge below to his right. With the window open, the cold night air wafted across his face. He gazed out, marvelling at the billions of stars, pinpricks of light that gave the land below a faint ethereal shape. He looked at his watch: eleven twenty- three. Will they come? he wondered, not for the first time that evening, then lifted his binoculars to his eyes once more.
Despite instructions from Sturmbannfuhrer Kurz to prepare an ambush at Tretten bridge, Zellner had felt there were a number of places where Odin and the fugitives might cross the valley. There was a bridge at Favang, for example, just ten kilometres north of Tretten, while six kilometres further on, at Ringebu, the railway crossed back over the river and rejoined the main valley road. True, they had not found the men despite a day of intense search, but Zellner was less convinced than Kurz or Reichsamtsleiter Scheidt that they had remained holed up near Tretten. With this in mind, and hoping to restore both his standing and pride, he had decided, on receiving his orders from the SD Headquarters in Lillehammer, to deploy his men along the valley not only at Tretten but also at Favang and Ringebu. Admittedly, his company was now only three platoons strong, and he was painfully aware that the fugitives had got the better of his men when they had been operating with just one platoon, but he had no
