'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.'
