he asked the soldier to examine the engine bay.
'And where is the alternator now?' he asked, turning back to Sulheim.
'Er, here,' said Sulheim, pointing to a cylindrical block of metal lying on a workbench to the side of the shed.
'And where did they go when they left?'
'Up the road. North,' said Sulheim. 'Whether they stayed on it or not, I couldn't say. I made it pretty clear I didn't want them anywhere near my farm.'
Zellner couldn't decide whether or not the man was lying and wished he had Sturmbannfuhrer Kurz with him, a man more practised in interrogation techniques. The Norwegian's answers certainly seemed plausible, but either he was telling the truth and the fugitives would be further up the valley by now, or he was lying and they would presumably reappear once darkness fell.
He ordered a thorough search of the entire farm. Nothing was found. No hidden troops, no footprints, no dropped cigarette butts. After an hour, he called his men back. He posted half a dozen in the church a few hundred yards to the south of the farm - the bell-tower was to be used as an observation post - then ordered the rest back into the trucks and headed north.
Tanner watched these events carefully. The officers appeared from time to time, but he preferred to trust the task of observation to himself, Sykes and his own men. By taking short cat-naps in the seter he was able to catch up on his sleep, then return to watch the valley once more.
During the afternoon more trucks arrived. Planes hummed overhead. On the far side of the valley, he followed a platoon of troops with skis on their backs as they climbed out of Alstad and up into the mountains. But despite these movements, he was painfully aware that the men in the church had remained where they were.
The hours ticked by. The afternoon came and went. As the evening drew on, the shadows lengthened and the sun dipped below the mountains behind them. There was no sign of Sulheim or of the German observers leaving the church.
It was after ten when Chevannes shuffled down the slope beside him.
'They're still there, sir,' said Tanner.
Chevannes peered through his binoculars. 'Merde,' he said.
'I could go down when it's dark and try to get them.'
Chevannes bit his lip, but before he could answer, a truck arrived at Uskum Farm and men got out.
'I take it we stay here for the time being,' said Tanner.
Chevannes turned away without looking at him. 'Yes, Sergeant,' he snapped. 'For the moment.'
As the brief hours of darkness passed, Tanner's anger and frustration rose. Never had he felt more inclined to throttle the French lieutenant. He could not help thinking about the Allied front line. Was it still at Kvam? Surely not. By now they must have been pushed ever further away. A whole day wasted, and now, perhaps, several more. And it was cold up there among the pines. Not for the first time Tanner wished he had never set eyes on Colonel Gulbrand and his men.
It was with relief that Brigadier Morgan saw Major General Bernard Paget standing before him at his small headquarters at Heidel. He had known him a long time - indeed, they had worked together before the war - and Morgan had always thought the general cut an impressive figure. The fierce, intelligent eyes, the long, aquiline nose and thin lips somehow contained so much authority. Not for nothing had Paget gained a reputation as one of the finest trainers of British soldiers the Army had possessed in many years.
'General, how very good to see you,' said Morgan, stepping forward into the dim light and clasping Paget's hand.
'Harry,' said Paget. 'Good to see you too, although I wish the circumstances might have been different. This is a hell of a bloody mess, isn't it?'
'You've seen General Ruge?'
'Just come from his headquarters south of Dombas.' Paget chuckled mirthlessly. 'And got an earful too. Not very impressed with we Brits, is he?'
'No, sir.'
'And with reason. This is a shambles, Harry, a bloody shambles. Not your fault - you've done jolly well and Ruge is impressed with you. I'm afraid it's the bods back at Whitehall who are to blame. Lack of planning, lack of thought. Not enough kit. Not enough bloody air cover. Anyway.' He sat down in front of Morgan's desk while the brigadier poured two tumblers of whisky from the bottle Ruge had brought the previous evening. It was already nearly finished.
'Tell me what the news is here. Communication seems to be half the problem. No radios, not enough telephones. No reconnaissance. How are 15th Brigade doing?'
'We've held off the enemy so far, General. The narrowness of the valley has worked in our favour and the Gladiators have performed magnificently. I think the sight of them has given heart to the troops.'
'Good,' said Paget, then raised his glass. 'Cheers.'
Morgan raised his in turn, then added, 'But I'm afraid there are only four serviceable aircraft left now, so I'm not sure how much they can achieve tomorrow.'
'And what about tomorrow?'
Morgan took a large gulp of his drink. 'The enemy never seems to attack during the night or early in the morning. A real creature of habit. So I've straightened the line and brought up some reserves, but no doubt by mid-morning they'll come at us heavy again. I hate to say this, General, but I don't think we'll survive another night. Our best hope is to keep the enemy at bay until evening and withdraw overnight. As it is, Brigadier Smyth has been wounded.'
Paget nodded. 'All right, Harry. I'm going to report back to London tonight, if I can, and you should know that I'm going to recommend our withdrawal. Your brigade's already had a savage dusting. I can't see any point in letting the rest of our troops be lambs to the slaughter as well.'
Morgan finished his whisky, then said, 'did General Ruge mention anything to you about a missing patrol of British and French troops?'
'Is this the scientist?'
'Yes, sir. Professor Hening Sandvold.'
'Yes - yes, he did.'
'The King's very anxious they should be found.'
'I know, but we can't hang around here on the off- chance when this fellow might already be dead.'
'I don't think he is, though, sir. London intercepted a radio signal broadcast by the Germans. Apparently they've warned Norwegians to report any sightings and threatened severe punishment for anyone not complying. It seems Jerry's on to them.'
Paget stroked his chin thoughtfully. 'Well,' he said at length, 'we'd better hope they're still out there and that they get to us quickly. I'm sorry, Harry, but the King has to face facts: we can't stay here for much longer. Not for him and certainly not for some errant Norwegian professor.'
