Dennis Wheatley - The Black Baroness

The cars pulled up in the main street of Hamar and the two captives were lugged into the police-station.

For the time being they were allowed to sit on a worn pitch-pine bench while the German-speaking police sergeant who was in charge of the party that had caught them held a long telephone conversation.

The other policemen stood round eyeing them malevolently, and only waiting for a chance to give them another beating-up should they show the least signs of any attempt to rush the door which led to a short passage and the street.

Gregory's bottom hurt him abominably where the big fellow's boot had landed, and he had to sit sideways on the hard bench, which was extremely uncomfortable, but the cut on his cheek was not deep and the blood had already dried. Von Ziegler, he noticed, had a lovely black eye which was beginning to colour up, and his white collar had been torn away from its stud where somebody had grabbed him at the back of the neck.

After about twenty minutes the dumb-looking, walrus-moustached inspector arrived whom they had seen outside the house occupied by King Haakon. The sergeant made his report and the inspector stared grimly at the prisoners, after which he gave some order and the other men moved towards them.

Von Ziegler stood up and, squaring his shoulders, began to talk quickly but firmly. He went on for about five minutes, while the men scowled angrily at him, but the old inspector seemed considerably troubled by what he said and, when he had finished, gave another order; upon which his men led both the prisoners away and locked them up in a fairly roomy cell with two beds and a wash-place.

'Well?' asked Gregory, who had not understood a single word of all that had been said.

'They were going to shoot us out of hand,' said von Ziegler, 'but I managed to get the old boy rattled.

He's just a country policeman and I imagine he's reached the rank of inspector only by doing his job conscientiously for the best part of forty years, and avoided any responsibility unless his little book of rules has given him chapter and verse for taking it.'

'How did you manage to get him scared?' asked Gregory curiously.

'I admitted quite frankly that we were German officers in civilian clothes. I also admitted that we were communicating with the enemy—there was no sense in denying that, seeing that we were actually caught on the job—and that as we were not in uniform the penalty for our offence was death; but I told him that the police had no power to pass or to carry out such a sentence. I insisted that, however brief our trial, it must be held by the military and that sentence and execution must be carried out by them.'

Sitting down gingerly on one of the beds Gregory lit a cigarette. 'That was a damned clever line. I take it that you were gambling on the fact of there not being any troops in the town? I wonder, though, that he believed you.'

Von Ziegler grinned. 'He didn't at first—I could see that in his rheumy old eyes—but I told him that it was quite definitely a piece of international law. I pointed out that at four o'clock this afternoon Oslo had surrendered to General Count von Falkenhorst and that our troops were also in possession of Stavanger, Bergen, Trondheim and Narvik; that his people, therefore, hadn't a hope in hell of holding the rest of the country and that we should be in full possession of it inside a week. I reminded him that immediately afterwards an investigation into events in every town would be carried out with our usual German thoroughness and that we had plenty of sympathisers in Hamar as well as in other places; that if he liked, therefore, he could have us taken out into the back yard and shot, but that he would never be able to cover it up; it would be reported directly German troops arrived here and perfectly legal reprisals would be carried out against him. Our Gauleiter would have him shot, with the whole of his firing-squad that shot us, and all their families would be sent to a concentration-camp in Germany. After all, that's perfectly true, you know—except the part about its not being legal for police to shoot enemy spies. These Norwegians can't go shooting German officers like you and me and not expect to pay for it; so really I've done the old boy a good turn by scaring the wits out of him.'

Gregory nodded. 'Yes; our comrades would inflict pretty sweeping penalties for the loss of an Air Attache and a Staff-Colonel. I think you handled the situation magnificently. Unfortunately, though, the bluff you put up has only saved us temporarily. Our lives are still hanging by a hair; the moment any troops turn up we shall be handed over to them and promptly executed.'

'Maybe,' said von Ziegler, by no means happily, 'maybe; but things will start to happen long before any Norwegian troops come on the scene.'

'What sort of things?' asked Gregory. 'Have you got some Fifth Column people among those ferocious-looking policemen who will come and let us out later on, when the excitement has quietened down?'

'No; unfortunately I haven't. These country folk are much more difficult to get at than the Norwegians in the towns. The thing I'm thinking of may give us an opportunity to escape, but on the other hand it may settle our problem for good and all.' The airman began to pace a little nervously up and down the narrow cell, as he added: 'Have you got that Will, Baron?'

'Eh?' Gregory almost said: 'What Will?' but he checked himself in time and replied instead: 'Why d'you ask?'

'Only that you may need it, unless it goes up in smoke with you. This place is going to be bombed to blazes in less than half an hour.'

'Hell's bells!' Swinging round, Gregory stared at him. 'So that is what you were signalling about?'

'Yes. I ordered three squadrons to come up at twelve-thirty and blow Hamar off the face of the earth.'

'Phew!' Gregory whistled. 'The devil you did! But why, in God's name? I thought you wanted to get the King alive?'

'I did—this morning. But we couldn't go into that chateau on the lake and carry the old man off now he's surrounded by a lot of friends and loyal police—we wouldn't have stood a chance—and from the policy point of view it doesn't very much matter which we do—secure his person or kill him. The essential thing is that since he's decided to fight we must render him powerless to inspire his people. It would have been fun to fly him to Germany, but once that became impossible, it was up to us to bring about his death in any way we could.'

Gregory drew heavily on his cigarette. 'I suppose the idea was that we should sit up there in safety on the mountainside while Hamar was blown to bits, then come down and inspect the ruins to make certain that he hadn't escaped?'

"That was the scheme; but, unfortunately, things have panned out rather differently. I told them to begin on the chateau, then to go for the road-junction and the railway station in case he escaped the first salvo and tried to get away; and lastly, to plaster the whole town in case he had taken refuge anywhere after leaving the chateau. I suppose this police-station is as solid a building as anything hereabouts, but if our Flieger do their stuff properly it's not going to be a very jolly party for you and me now. Still, there's a chance that part of the building will be damaged and that we may be able to escape in the ensuing confusion.'

Gregory's brain was working overtime again. The first thing was to get a warning to the King before the German planes came over, and that should not be difficult. He had only to bang on the cell door and start creating a fuss, upon which the German-speaking sergeant would be brought along; he could then tell the man what was intended, and it was quite certain that the police would not waste time inquiring why Gregory had chosen to give the warning, but would take immediate steps to see that the King removed himself to a place of safety.