“This one is not army?” he asked, stopping beside the body.
“No. He was Norwegian, but a civilian. Peder Strand, according to his identification. He lived in Oslo.” Beck bent down to reach for the edge of the blanket. “It’s not pretty,” he warned before pulling it back.
Eisenjager stared down at the lifeless face, taking in the multiple bullet wounds over his torso and head. The man was riddled with machine gun fire, the price he paid for shooting two SS troopers.
“Why did he stay behind?” he asked after a moment.
“He was shot in his leg and couldn’t continue. When he was approached, he opened fire with this.” Beck pulled out a pistol and handed it to Eisenjager. “It’s a Norwegian standard-issue sidearm.”
“One of the others gave it to him,” Eisenjager said, examining it. “Probably for defense.” He looked up. “What happened to the others?”
“They escaped that way,” Beck pointed down the ravine. “They went around the curve. By the time our soldiers got there, they were gone.”
Fury streaked through Eisenjager, white and hot, and his fingers clenched around the pistol in his hand.
“I thought I made it clear that the woman had to be stopped and detained?” he said, his calm and quiet tone belying the angry glint in his cold eyes.
“You did not make it clear that she was accompanied by three trained soldiers,” Beck retorted. “My men were not prepared for them.”
“Are you making excuses for the failure of your men?”
“No. I’m stating facts. They were not adequately briefed on the nature of the mission. They were told to look for two women and a man, all civilians. What they found were three soldiers and a man familiar enough with pistols to kill one of my men and fatally wound another.”
Eisenjager stared at him in cold silence for a long moment, then he handed the pistol back to him and turned his attention to the body at their feet.
“Was there anything else on him?” he asked. “A notebook? Anything?”
“No. Just his wallet and identification.”
“Scheisse!” Eisenjager turned away from the body. “That’s of no use to me then!”
He started to stride towards the curve in the ravine in the distance, then turned and went back to Beck instead.
“What’s in that direction?” he asked, pointing.
“Steinkjer. The ravine runs along the edge of the town.”
“And you’ve sent men in pursuit of them?”
Beck frowned. “No. I don’t have the men to send.” He turned and motioned to the bodies behind them. “They killed half of the men I sent to look for them. My orders are to wait for reinforcements.”
“When will they arrive?”
“Tomorrow.”
Eisenjager let out a frustrated exclamation. “Tomorrow is too late!” he spat. “That is why I told you to stop them here.”
“I cannot send my platoon on a hunt through enemy territory,” Beck told him stiffly. “We haven’t secured the area, only the town. We know there are enemy forces in the area. My orders are to wait.”
Eisenjager stared at him for a moment, then exhaled.
“And you must follow your orders,” he said grudgingly. “I understand.”
Beck inclined his head and they turned to walk back to where they had come down into the ravine.
“You aren’t the only one interested in this agent,” Beck said, breaking the silence after a few minutes.
Eisenjager looked at him sharply. “Oh?”
“I received a message this morning from Obersturmbannführer Hans Voss, in Berlin. He also stressed the importance of apprehending her. Are you aware of the SD’s interest?”
“I am. They do not concern me.”
Beck grunted and smiled faintly. “Perhaps they should. They are obviously still keeping an eye out for her, and they have resources everywhere the SS go. If they find her first, you will lose for the first time in your career.”
The hint of smug arrogance in his voice indicated that the possibility was satisfying to the Hauptsturmführer. Eisenjager noted it, and the smile he gave him was chilling.
“Unlike the SS, I do not lose my prey. I can assure you, they will not find her first.”
London, England
Bill hung up the telephone and stared at it with a frown. He raised his eyes to the clock on the wall of his study, and the frown deepened. It was two hours past the time when Evelyn was supposed to have made contact, but still nothing. He had rung the radio room to make sure, and they confirmed that no new messages had been received yet. She still hadn’t checked in.
He picked up his glasses and put them on, turning his attention to the reports on the desk in front of him. Even though it was Saturday, he still had work to do. Marguerite had gone to a luncheon with the Women’s Institute, leaving him to get done what he had to do before they went to the theater this evening. If he didn’t finish, he would have a very annoyed wife on his hands. His lips curved despite himself. She had been looking forward to this evening all week and he wouldn’t disappoint her.
Nevertheless, a few minutes later his mind wandered again, and a heavy sense of foreboding fell over him. The navy had sent a group of destroyers to Narvik along with air support in the form of an aircraft carrier with the aim of defeating the enemy there and gaining a foothold in northern Norway. They were expected to arrive today and engage the Germans. Tomorrow, more ships were arriving in Namsos, carrying the Royal marines. By Monday, if everything went to plan, the Germans would be engaging Allied troops up and down the coast. Evelyn had to be out of there before that happened. Once the battles began, she would be in more danger than ever.
Where was she?
Bill exhaled and dropped the report in his hand, flipping the folder closed over it. He got up impatiently and turned to go over to the wall of bookshelves
