safety should he decline our offer.' He chuckled. 'Not that I would have done anything to them. But a man like that, with a young family and everything, it's what they hold most dear, isn't it?'
'Yes,' said von Poncets. 'It is. I'm certainly not doing this for Hitler.'
'Actually,' said Kurz, scratching his cheek, 'I must give Scheidt some credit. He's a bit of an old woman, you know, but he's sharp. He's been over here since last year, grooming that buffoon Quisling on the say-so of the Fuhrer. But he's also been working all sorts of other people in preparation for the invasion. I think it was Quisling's men who put him on to Larsen. Apparently he was a secret National Party man.'
'So he was primed,' said von Poncets.
'Primed - yes, exactly. And then with a bit of gentle persuasion we had our spy. A massive stroke of luck, of course, that he was chosen to go back and fetch Odin. Initially, we thought we would use him to get to the King and the gold.'
'Why didn't he lead you to Odin in Oslo, then?' asked Zellner.
'He didn't know. It wasn't until later. We ransacked Odin's offices and interrogated his mother. We didn't find any blue papers but we found enough to know what he was trying to do. Trust me, if this fellow can truly get oil from under the seabed, we'll have the eternal gratitude of the Fuhrer.'
The thought cheered Zellner even more. Well, it wouldn't be long now. This time nothing had been left to chance. He was certain they could not fail again.
It was mindless work, patrolling a bridge. One man walked one way, one the other, up and down, back and forth. Schutze Pieter Greiger was tired. It had been a gruelling two weeks, and although they had successfully hammered their way northwards, victory helped keep you going only so far. The fighting at Dombas had been gruelling for his company and they had lost several men. Half his platoon had been killed or wounded. One of the dead had been a good friend, Dieter Manser; they had known each other since boyhood. He'd tried hard to put his loss out of his mind and found that so long as he was busy it was quite easy to do. But sentry duty gave him too much time to think about Dieter's bloodied body, the life draining from him ... He reached the north side of the bridge, then began to walk back, the rhythmic clump of his boots loud on the thick wooden planking.
He had passed Reitmann when a sound pulled him from his reverie. Clasping the strap of his rifle more tightly, he listened. Then, a short distance ahead, he saw a column of men emerge from the shadows of the mountain, silhouetted against the pale dirt of the road. The men were marching towards the bridge and, seeing the outline of their field caps, he relaxed. He called to Reitmann and they strode towards the southern end of the bridge.
'Halt!' said Greiger, as the men approached. The officer brought his men to a standstill and waited as
Greiger, with Reitmann beside him, walked towards them.
'Good evening,' said the officer. 'We've come from the crossing-point. We've been ordered to help man the bridge.'
Greiger stared at him but it was hard to see much in the darkness. Then he noticed the white Edelweiss on the side of the cap, standing out starkly in the gloom.
'Gebirgsjager?' he asked. The officer nodded. 'May I see your orders, sir?'
The officer said, 'Of course,' then made for a leather satchel at his waist. Instead of producing papers, though, the officer pulled out a short bayonet and thrust it hard into Greiger's side, under his ribs, through his liver and into his kidney. The pain was so extreme, Greiger had only a quarter-second of intense agony, then his body shut down. His heart seized and the signals to his brain were severed. It was as though a switch had been turned off. Pieter Greiger's short life was over.
At the same moment Nielssen was ending the life of the second man he had despatched within an hour, Sergeant Tanner, beside him, had used his right fist to knock the second sentry out cold before the German could so much as pull back the bolt on his Mauser.
'Quick,' whispered Tanner to his men, as he grabbed the first man's Mauser. 'Get the rest of their weapons, ammo and helmets and drag them off the bridge. 'Mac and Hep, put these helmets on and take over sentry duty.'
Chevannes was now standing beside him.
'Good work, Nielssen,' said Chevannes to the Norwegian. 'Now for the truck.'
'Sir?' said Tanner.
'What now, Sergeant?'
'Sykes and I are going to blow the bridge - prevent any of those mountain boys coming after us.'
'You don't think it might alert the enemy?' His voice was heavy with sarcasm.
'We'll set a delay with the safety fuse.'
He dithered, then said, 'Well, be quick about it.'
'Yes, sir. If you and the men wait off the road, sir, I'll put up two sentries.'
'Yes, yes, all right. Get a move on.'
Tanner called over McAllister and Hepworth. 'Put those Jerry helmets on you two,' he said, 'then start walking up and down the bridge.' He hurried over to Sykes, who was already delving in his pack, took out a packet of Nobel's from his gas-mask case and passed it to him.
'Sarge, open it, take out two cartridges and tie them together with a small length of fuse.'
'You think that'll be enough?' He could just see that Sykes was doing the same with another packet.
'Yes.'
Tanner nodded. His heart was thumping in his chest again, his brittle fingers tearing at the thin cardboard. Taking out two cartridges, he put the remainder of the packet back into his gas-mask case, then took out the tin of fuses. With his clasp knife, he cut a strip and tied the two cartridges together. 'Done,' he said.
'Good,' said Sykes, fumbling with the detonators. 'How long do we want to wait?'
'Six hundred yards to the church,' he muttered to himself, 'but we need to get in the truck and start it. On the other hand, the distraction of the blast might be useful. Ten minutes? No - let's say eight.'
'Sure?'
'Yes, eight minutes.'
'All right - cut me a sixteen-foot length.'
Using his forearm as a measure, Tanner did so, then passed one end to Sykes who managed to crimp the fuse to the detonators with his teeth.
'And another length the same, Sarge,' whispered Sykes.
Suddenly Chevannes was beside them. 'Have you finished?' he hissed.
'Almost, sir,' said Sykes.
'Hurry.' He disappeared back down the bridge as Tanner measured another length of fuse. This time he had only counted thirteen feet when he reached the end of the tin. 'I've run out, Stan. I'm three foot short.'
'Bollocks,' said Sykes, then scratched his head. 'All right, here's what we do: we tie the explosives each side of the bridge rather than at either end and run a length of fuse from one on to the main fuse. Here, give it me.' He took one end, crimped it to the detonator, then hurried across to the other side of the bridge. Lying down and straining over the side, he used another short length of fuse to tie it to one of the girders. That done, he ran back to the other side, feeding the fuse through his hands, and tied it to the longer length. Grabbing the second batch of cartridges, he lay down again, head and arms disappearing over the side of the bridge.
A few moments later he stood up, dusted off his hands and said, 'All set, Sarge.'
In a loud whisper, Tanner called to McAllister and Hepworth, then Sykes lit the fuse.
