SEVEN

There were six of them in all, and six tougher looking and more villainous characters it would have been almost impossible to imagine, far less find. There was a curious likeness about them. They were all just over medium height, all lean and broad-shouldered, all clad exactly alike: khaki trousers tucked into high boots, belted khaki canvas jacket over a khaki tunic, and khaki forage caps. They carried no badges, no identification marks. All were armed in precisely the same fashion: machine-pistols in hands, a revolver at waist level and hunting knives stuck into a sheath on the right boot. Their faces were dark and still, their eyes quiet and watchful. They were dangerous men.

Surprise had been complete, resistance – even the thought of a token resistance – unthinkable. The same company as had been in Harrison’s hut the previous evening, had been there just a few minutes before eight that evening when the outside door had burst open and three men had been inside the door with levelled guns before anyone could even react. Now there were six inside, and the door was closed. One of the intruders, a little shorter and a little broader than the others, took a pace forward.

‘My name is Crni.’ It was the Serbo-Croat word for black. ‘You will take off your weapons, one by one, and place them on the floor.’ He nodded at Metrovi. ‘You begin.’

Within a minute every gun in the room – at least every visible gun – was lying on the floor. Crni beckoned Lorraine. ‘Pick up those guns and put them on that table there. You will not, of course, be so stupid as to even think of firing any of them.’

Lorraine had no thought of firing any of them, her hands were shaking so much that she had some difficulty in picking them up. When they were on the table Crni said: ‘Are either of you two young ladies armed?’

‘They’re not,’ Petersen said. ‘I guarantee it. If you find a weapon on their persons or in their bags you can shoot me.’

Crni looked at him almost quizzically, reached under his canvas jacket and produced a piece of paper from his tunic. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Petersen.’

‘Ah! Major Peter Petersen. At the very top of the list. One can see they’re not carrying a weapon on their persons. But their bags?’

‘I’ve searched them.’

The two girls momentarily stopped being apprehensive and exchanged indignant glances. Crni smiled slightly.

‘You should have told them. I believe you. If any man here is carrying a gun on his person and conceals the fact, then if I find it I’ll shoot him. Through the heart.’ Crni’s matter-of-fact tone carried an unpleasant degree of conviction.

‘There’s no need to go around making all those ludicrous threats,’ George said complainingly. ‘If it’s cooperation you want, I’m your man.’ He produced an automatic from the depths of his clothing and nudged Alex in the ribs. ‘Don’t be foolish. I don’t think this fellow Crni has any sense of humour.’ Alex scowled and threw a similar automatic on the table.

‘Thank you.’ Crni consulted his list. ‘You, of course, have to be the learned Professor, number two on our list.’ He looked up at Alex. ‘And you must be number three. It says here “Alex brackets assassin”. Not much of a character reference. We’ll bear that in mind.’ He turned to one of his men. ‘Edvard. Those coats hanging there. Search them.’

‘No need,’ Petersen said. ‘Just the one on the left. That’s mine. Right-hand pocket.’

‘You are cooperative,’ Crni said.

‘I’m a professional, too.’

‘I know that. I know quite a lot about you. Rather, I’ve been told quite a lot.’ He looked at the gun Edvard had brought him. ‘I didn’t know they issued silenced Lugers to the Royal Yugoslav Army.’

‘They don’t. A friend gave it to me.’

‘Of course. I have five other names on this list.’ He looked at Harrison. ‘You must be Captain James Harrison.’

‘Why must I?’

‘There are two officers in Yugoslavia who wear monocles? And you must be Giacomo. Just the one name. Giacomo.’

‘Same question.’

‘Description.’

Giacomo smiled. ‘Flattering?’

‘No. Just accurate.’ He looked at Michael. ‘And you, by elimination, must be Michael von Karajan. Two ladies.’ He looked at Lorraine. ‘You’re Lorraine Chamberlain.’

‘Yes.’ She smiled wanly. ‘You have my description, too?’

‘Sarina von Karajan bears a remarkable resemblance to her twin brother,’ Crni said patiently. ‘You eight are coming with me.’

George said: ‘May I ask a question?’

‘No.’

‘I think that’s downright uncivil,’ George said plaintively. ‘And unfair. What if I wanted to go to the toilet?’

‘I take it you are the resident comedian,’ Crni said coldly. ‘I hope your sense of humour bears with you in the days to come. Major, I’m going to hold you personally responsible for the conduct of your group.’

Petersen smiled. ‘If anyone tries to run away, you’ll shoot me?’

‘I wouldn’t have put it as crudely as that, Major.’

‘Major this, Major that. Major Crni? Captain Crni?’

‘Captain,’ he said briefly. ‘I prefer Crni. Do I have to be an officer?’

‘They don’t send a mess-boy to bring in apparently notorious criminals.’

‘Nobody’s said you’re a criminal. Not yet.’ He looked at the two etnick officers. ‘Your names?’ Metrovi. This is Major Rankovi.’ ‘I’ve heard of you.’ He turned to Petersen. ‘You eight will be taking your baggage with you.’

‘That’s nice,’ George said.

‘What is?’

‘Well,’ George said reasonably, ‘if we’re taking our baggage with us it’s hardly likely that you’re going to shoot us out of hand.’

‘To be a comedian is bad enough. To be a buffoon, insufferable.’ He turned back to Petersen. ‘How many of the eight have their baggage here? Men and women, I mean?’

‘Five. Three of us have our baggage in a hut about fifty yards away – myself and those two gentlemen here.’

‘Slavko. Sava.’ This to two of his men. ‘This man Alex will show you where the hut is. Bring the baggage back. Search it very carefully first. And be just as careful in watching this man. He has an appalling record.’ For a fleeting moment the expression on Alex’s face made Crni’s statement more than credible. ‘Hurry nothing, watch everything.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We have forty minutes left.’

In less than half that time all the luggage had been packed and collected. George said: ‘I know I’m not allowed to ask a question so may I make a statement? Oh, that’s a question, too. I want to make a statement.’

‘What?’

‘I’m thirsty.’

‘I see no harm.’

‘Thank you.’ George had opened a bottle and downed a glass of wine in what appeared near-impossible time.

‘Try that other bottle,’ Crni suggested. George blinked, frowned, but willingly did what he was told. ‘Seems satisfactory. My men could do with a specific against the cold.’

‘Seems satisfactory?’ George stared at him. ‘You suggest that I could have doctored some bottles, poisoned bottles, against just such an impossible eventuality? Me? A faculty dean? A learned academic? A – a –’

‘Some academics are more learned than others. You’d have done the same.’ Three of his men took a glass: the other two held their unwavering guns. There was a discouraging certainty about everything Crni said and did: he seemed to take the minutest precautions against anything untoward, including, as George had said, the impossible eventuality.

Metrovi said: ‘What happens to Major Rankovi and myself?’

‘You remain behind.’

‘Dead?’

‘Alive. Bound and gagged but alive. We are not etniks. We do not murder helpless soldiers, far less helpless civilians.’

‘Nor do we.’

‘Of course not. Those thousands of Muslims who perished in south Serbia died by their own hands. Cowards, were they not?’

Metrovi made no reply.

‘And how many more thousand Serbians – men, women and children – were massacred in Croatia, with the most bestial atrocities ever recorded in the Balkans, just because of their religion?’

‘We had no hand in that. The Ustaša are no soldiers, just undisciplined terrorists.’

‘The Ustaša are your allies. Just as the Germans are your allies. Remember Kragujevac, Major, where the Partisans killed ten Germans and the Germans rounded up and shot five thousand Yugoslav citizens? Marched the children out of schools and shot them in droves until even the execution squads were sickened and mutinied? Your allies. Remember the retreat from Uice where the German tanks rolled backwards and forwards over the fields until all the wounded Partisans lying there had been crushed to death? Your allies. The guilt of your murderous friends is your guilt too. Much as we would like to treat you in the same fashion we will not. I have my orders and, besides, you are at least technically our allies.’ Crni’s voice was heavy with contempt.

Metrovi said: ‘You are Partisans.’

‘God forbid!’ The revulsion in Crni’s face was momentary but unmistakable. ‘Do we look like guerrilla rabble? We are paratroopers of the Murge division.’ The Murge was the best Italian division then operating in south-east Europe. ‘Your allies, as I said.’ Crni gestured towards the eight prisoners. ‘You harbour a nest of vipers. You can’t recognize them as such, far less know what to do with them. We can do both.’

Metrovi looked at Petersen. ‘I think I owe you an apology, Peter. Last night I didn’t know whether to believe your assessment or not. It seemed so fantastic. Not any more. You were right.’

‘Much good that’s done me. My forecast, I mean. I was twentyfour hours out.’

‘Tie them up,’ Crni said.

Immediately after leaving the hut, to nobody’s surprise, they were joined by two other soldiers: Crni was not the man to spend almost an hour inside any place without having a guard posted outside. That those were élite troops was beyond question. It was a bitter night, with driving snow, a biting wind and zero visibility but Crni and his men not only put up with the extreme conditions but seemed positively to revel in them.

Metrovi had been wrong more than once the previous night. He had said that nobody was going to be moving around the mountains in those impossible weather conditions for days to come: Crni and his men were there to prove him wrong.

Once they were well clear of the camp Crni and his men produced torches. The prisoners were arranged so that they trudged on in single file through the deepening snow – it was already almost knee-high – while four of the guards walked on either side of them. By and by, at a command from Crni, they halted.

Crni said: ‘Here, I’m afraid, we have to tie you up. Your wrists. Behind your backs.’

‘I’m surprised you haven’t done it before,’ Petersen said. ‘I’m even more surprised that you want to do it now. You have in mind to kill us all, perhaps?’

‘Explain yourself.’

‘We are at the head of that track leading down the mountain-side to the valley floor?’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because the wind hasn’t changed since yesterday. You have ponies?’

‘Two only. For the ladies. That was all you required yesterday.’

‘You are very well informed. And the rest of us are to have our hands bound behind our backs just in case we feel tempted to give you or one of your men a brisk shove over the precipice. Mistake, Captain Crni, mistake. Out of character.’

‘Indeed?’

‘Two reasons. The surface of that rock is broken and slippery with either ice or hard-packed snow. If a man slips on that surface how is he, with his hands tied behind his back, going to grab at the ground to stop himself sliding over the edge – and how’s he going to be able to maintain his balance in the first place with his hands tied? To keep your balance you have to be able to stretch both arms wide. You should know that. It’s as good as sending people to their deaths. Second reason is that your men don’t have to be anywhere near the prisoners. Four of them well in advance, four well behind, the prisoners, maybe with a couple of torches, in the middle. What positive action could the prisoners take then except commit suicide by jumping off the precipice? I can assure you that none of them is in the least suicidally inclined.’

‘I am not a mountaineer, Major Petersen. I take your point.’

‘Another request, if I may. Let Giacomo and myself walk alongside the young ladies’ ponies. I’m afraid the young ladies don’t care too much for heights.’

‘I don’t want you!’ Even the prospect of the descent had brought a note of hysteria into Sarina’s voice. ‘I don’t want you!’

‘She doesn’t want you,’ Crni said drily.

‘She doesn’t know what she’s saying. It’s just a personal opinion of mine. She suffers severely from vertigo. What have I to gain by saying so?’

‘Nothing that I can see.’

As they lined up by the cliff-top, Giacomo, leading a pony, brushed by Petersen and said, sotto voce: ‘That, Major, was quite a performance.’ He vanished into the snow with Petersen looking thoughtfully after him.

A steep descent, in treacherous conditions, is always more difficult and dangerous than a steep ascent and so it was to prove in this case. It is also slower and it took them all of forty minutes to reach the valley floor but reach it they did without incident. Sarina spoke for the first time since they had left the plateau.

‘We are down?’

‘Safe and sound as ever was.’

She gave a long quavering sigh. ‘Thank you. You don’t need to hold my horse any more.’

‘Pony. Whatever you say. I was getting quite attached to the old lady.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that you’re so – so awful and so kind. No, I’m the person who is awful. You’re the person they’re after.’

‘As is only fitting. My rank.’

‘They’re going to kill you, aren’t they?’

‘Kill me? What a thought. Why should they? A little discreet questioning perhaps.’

‘You said yourself that General Granelli is an evil man.’

‘General Granelli is in Rome. Haven’t you given any thought as to what is going to happen to you?’

‘No, I haven’t.’ Her voice was dull. ‘I don’t think I care what’s going to happen to me.’

‘That,’ said Petersen, ‘is what is known as a conversation stopper.’ They moved on in silence, the still heavily falling snow now at their backs, until Crni called a halt. He had the beam of his torch directed at the Italian army truck Petersen had stolen two days previously.

‘It was thoughtful of you, Major, to leave transport so conveniently at hand.’

‘If we can help our allies – you didn’t arrive by this.’

‘It was thoughtful, but not necessary.’ Crni moved the beam of the torch. Another, even larger Italian truck, was parked close by. ‘All of you, into that truck. Edvard, come with me.’

The eight prisoners were ushered into the larger truck and made to sit on the floor crowded up against the cab. Five soldiers followed them and sat on side benches towards the rear. Five torch beams were directed forwards and in the light of the beams it was possible to see that an equal number of machine-pistol barrels were pointed in the same direction. The engine started up and the truck jolted off. Five minutes later they turned right on to the main Neretva road.

‘Ah!’ Harrison said. ‘Bound for the bright lights of Jablanica, I see.’

‘On this road, where else?’ Petersen said. ‘After that the road divides. We could be going anywhere. I would guess that Jablanica is as far as we go. It’s getting late. Even Crni and his men have to sleep.’

Shortly afterwards the driver stopped both the truck and the engine.

‘I don’t see any bright lights around here,’ Harrison said. ‘What are those devils up to now?’

‘Nothing that concerns us,’ Petersen said. ‘Our driver is just waiting for Crni and his friend Edvard to join him up front.’

‘Why? They have their own transport.’

‘Had. It’s in the Neretva now. That lad who met us yesterday – you remember, Dominic, the driver with the sunglasses – would not have failed to note the make and number of the truck. When and if Rankovi are discovered and freed – which may not be for hours yet – the proverbial hue and cry may be raised. “May”, I say. I doubt it. The Colonel is not a man to publicize the security gaps in his forces. But Crni doesn’t strike me as a man to take the slightest chance.’

‘Objection,’ Giacomo said. ‘If your friend Cipriano is the man behind this, he already knows the description of the truck. So what’s the point in destroying the truck?’

‘Giacomo, you sadden me. We don’t know that Cipriano is the man behind this but if he is he wouldn’t want to leave any clue that would point a finger at him in connection with the abduction. Remember that, officially, he and the Colonel are sworn allies, faithful unto death.’

Voices came from up front, a door banged, the engine started again and the truck moved off. ‘That must be the way of it,’ Giacomo said to no-one in particular. ‘Pity about the truck, though.’

They jolted on through the snow-filled night, torch beams and barrels still pointed at them, until suddenly Harrison said: ‘At last. Civilization. It’s a long time since I’ve seen city lights.’

Harrison, as was his custom, was exaggerating to a considerable extent. A few dim lights appeared occasionally through the opened back of the truck but hardly enough to lend the impression that they were driving through a metropolis. By and by the truck pulled off on to a side road, climbed briefly, then stopped. The guards apparently knew where they were and did not wait for orders. They jumped down, lined up torches and guns as before and were joined by Crni.

‘Down,’ he said. ‘This is as far as we go tonight.’

They lowered themselves to the ground and looked around them. As far as could be judged from the light of the beams, the building before them appeared to be standing alone and seemed, vaguely, to be shaped like a chalet. But, in the darkness and the snow it could have been just any building.

Crni led the way inside. The hallway presented a pleasant contrast to the swirling cold of the wintry night outside. The furnishings were sparse enough, just a table, a few chairs and a dresser, but it was warm – a small log fire burned in a low hearth – and warmly if not brightly lit: electric power had not yet reached this part of Jablanica and suspended oil lamps were the norm.

‘Door to the left is a bathroom,’ Crni said. ‘Can be used anytime. There will, of course,’ he added unnecessarily, ‘be a guard in the hall all the time. The other door to the left leads to the main quarters of the house and does not concern you. Neither do those stairs.’ He led the way to an opened door on the far right and ushered them inside. ‘Your quarters for the night.’

The room was unmistakably such as one would only find in a chalet. It was long, wide and low, with beamed ceiling, knotted pine walls and an oak parquet floor. Cushioned benches ran both sides of the room, there was a table, several armchairs, a very commodious dresser, some cupboards and shelves and, best of all, a rather splendid log fire several times the size of the one in the hallway. The only immediately incongruous note was struck by some canvas cots, blankets and pillows stacked neatly in one corner. It was George, inevitably, who discovered the second and not so immediately incongruous note. He pulled back the curtains covering one of the two windows and examined with interest the massive bars on the outside.

‘It is part of the general malaise of our times,’ he said sadly. ‘With the onset of war, the deterioration of standards is as immediate as it is inevitable. The rules of honour, decency and common law go by default and moral degeneracy rears its ugly head.’ He let fall the curtains. ‘A wise precaution, very wise. One feels sure that the streets of Jablanica are infested by burglars, house-breakers, footpads and other criminals of that ilk.’

Crni ignored him and looked at Petersen who was inspecting the bedding. ‘Yes, Major, I can count, too. Only six cots. We have a room upstairs for the two young ladies.’

‘Considerate. You were very sure of yourself, weren’t you, Captain Crni?’

‘Oh, no, he wasn’t,’ George said disgustedly. ‘A blind man could drive a coach and four with bells on through Mihajlovi’s perimeter.’ For a second time Crni ignored him. He had probably come to the conclusion that this was the only way to treat him.

‘We may or may not move on tomorrow. It certainly won’t be early. Depends entirely on the weather. From now on our travel will be mainly on foot. Should you be hungry, there’s food in that cupboard there. The contents of that high dresser will be of more interest to the professor.’

‘Ah!’ George opened the doors and looked appreciatively at what was, in effect, a comprehensively stocked miniature bar. ‘The window bars are superfluous, Captain Crni. I shall not be moving on tonight.’

‘Even if you could, where would you go? When you ladies want to sleep, let the guard know and I’ll show you your room. I may or may not wish to interrogate you later, it depends on a call I have to make.’

‘You surprise me,’ Petersen said. ‘I thought the phone system had ceased to work.’

‘Radio, of course. We do have one. In fact, we have four, the other three being yours and those two very modern sets belonging to the von Karajans. I expect the code books will also prove to be useful.’

He left behind him a profound and fairly lengthy silence interrupted only by the sound of a cork being extracted from a bottle. Michael was the first to speak.

‘Radios,’ he said bitterly. ‘Code books.’ He looked accusingly at Petersen. ‘You know what this means, don’t you?’

‘Yes. Nothing. Crni was amusing himself. All it means is that we will be put to the trouble of getting ourselves a new code. What else do you think they’ll do after they discover the books are missing? They will do this, of course, not to protect themselves against their enemies but against their friends. The Germans have twice broken the code that we use among ourselves.’ He looked at Harrison, who had seated himself, cross-legged, in an arm-chair before the fire and was contemplating a glass of wine that George had just handed him. ‘For a man who has just been driven from house and home, Jamie, or snatched from it, which comes to the same thing, you don’t look all that downcast to me.’

‘I’m not,’ Harrison said comfortably. ‘No reason to be. I never thought I’d find quarters better than my last one but I was wrong, I mean, look, a real log fire. Carpe diem, as the man says. What, Peter, do you think the future holds for us?’

‘I wouldn’t know how to use a crystal ball.’

‘Pity. It would have been nice to think that I might see the white cliffs of Dover again.’

‘I don’t see why not. No one’s after your blood. I mean, you haven’t been up to anything, have you, Jamie? Such as sending clandestine radio messages, in codes unknown to us, to parties also unknown to us?’

‘Certainly not.’ Harrison was unruffled. ‘I’m not that kind of person, I don’t have any secrets and I’m useless with a radio anyway. So you think I might see the white cliffs again. Do you think I’ll be seeing the old homestead on Mount Prenj again?’

‘I should think it highly unlikely.’

‘Well now. A fairly confident prediction and without a crystal ball.’

‘For that, I don’t need a crystal ball. A person who has occupied the – ah – delicate position you have done will never again be employed in that capacity after he’s been captured by the enemy. Torturing, brain-washing, reconversion to a double-agent, that sort of thing. Standard practice. You’d never be trusted again.’

‘I say, that’s a bit thick, isn’t it? A blameless, stainless reputation. It’s hardly my fault that I’ve been captured. It wouldn’t have happened if you people had looked after me a bit better. Thank you, George, I will have a little more. Now that I’m happily out of that place, I’ve no intention of ever returning to it, not unless I’m dragged forcibly back to it, kicking and screaming in the accepted fashion.’ He raised his glass. ‘Your health, Peter.’

‘You have taken an aversion to the people, the etniks, the Colonel, myself?’

‘A profound aversion. Well, not to you, although I must admit I don’t care overmuch for what might be called your military politics. You’re a total enigma to me, Peter, but I’d rather have you on my side than against me. As for the rest, I despise them. An extraordinary position for an ally to find himself in, is it not?’

‘I think I’ll have some wine, too, George, if I may. Well, yes, Jamie, it’s true, you have made your discontent – I might even say displeasure – rather guardedly evident from time to time but I thought you were doing no more than exercising every soldier’s inalienable right to complain loudly and at length about every conceivable aspect of army life.’ He sipped his wine thoughtfully. ‘One gathers there was something a little more to it than that?’

‘A little more? There was a great deal more.’ Harrison sipped his wine and gazed at the burning logs, a man relaxed, at peace with himself. ‘In spite of the fact that the future looks somewhat uncertain, in some ways I owe our Captain Crni a favour. He’s done no more than to pre-empt my decision, my intention, to leave Mount Prenj and its miserable inhabitants at the first convenient opportunity. Had it not been for the unexpected happening of the past couple of hours, you’d have discovered that I’d already made an official request for an official recall. But, of course, as matters stood before the appearance of Captain Crni, I wouldn’t have made any such disclosures anyway.’

‘I could have misjudged you, Jamie.’

‘Indeed you could.’ He looked around the room to see if there was anyone else misjudging him, but there was no-one thinking along those lines: a magnet to the iron filings, he had the undivided attention of every person in the room.

‘So you didn’t – don’t – like us?’

‘I should have thought that I had made that abundantly clear. I may be no soldier, and the good Lord knows that I’m not, but I’m no clown either, all appearances to the contrary. I’m educated after a fashion: in practically any intellectual field that matters the average soldier is a virtual illiterate.

I’m not educated in the way George is, I don’t float around in cloud-cuckoo-land or wander among the groves of academe.’ George looked profoundly hurt and reached for the wine bottle. ‘I have been educated in a more practical fashion. Wouldn’t you agree, Lorraine?’

‘I would.’ She smiled and said as if by rote: ‘B.Sc., M.Sc., A.M.I.E.E., A.M.I.Mech.E. Oh, he’s educated, all right. I used to be James’s secretary.’

‘Well, well, well,’ Petersen said. ‘The world grows even smaller.’ Giacomo covered his face with his hand.

‘Bachelor of Science, Master of Science we understand,’ George said. ‘As for the rest, it sounds as if he was coming down with a terminal illness.’

‘Associate Member of the Institute of Electrical Engineers,’ Lorraine said. ‘Associate Member of the Institute of Mechanical Engineers.’

‘It’s unimportant.’ Harrison was impatient. ‘Point is I’ve been trained to observe, evaluate and analyze. I’ve been out here less than two months but I can tell you it took only a fraction of that time and a minimum of observation, evaluation and analysis to realize that Britain was backing the wrong horse in the Yugoslav stakes.

‘I speak as a British officer. I don’t want to sound overly dramatic, but Britain is locked, literally, in mortal combat with Germany. How do we defeat the Germans – by fighting them and killing them. How should we judge our allies or potential allies, what yardstick should we use? One. Only one. Are they fighting and killing Germans? Is Mihajlovi? Is he hell. He’s fighting with the Germans, alongside the Germans. Tito? Every German soldier caught in the sights of a Partisan rifle is a dead man. Yet those fools and dolts and idiots in London keep sending supplies to Mihajlovi, a man who is in effect their sworn enemy. I am ashamed for my own people. The only possible reason for this – God knows it’s no excuse – is that Britain’s war, as far as the Balkans is concerned, is being run by politicians and soldiers, and politicians are almost as naïve and illiterate as soldiers.’

George said: ‘You speak harsh words about your own people, James.’

‘Shut up! No, sorry, George, I didn’t mean that, but in spite or maybe because of your vast education you’re just as naïve and illiterate as any of them. Harsh but true. How does this extraordinary situation come about? Mihajlovi is a near Machiavellian genius in international diplomacy: Tito is too busy killing Germans to have any time for any such thing.

‘As far back as September 1941 Mihajlovi and his Cetniks, instead of fighting the Germans, were busy establishing contacts with your precious Royalist government in London. Yes, Peter Petersen, precious I said and precious I did not mean. They don’t give a damn about the unimaginable sufferings of the Yugoslav people, all they want to do is to regain royal power and if it’s over the bodies of one or two millions of their countrymen, so much the worse for their countrymen. And, of course, Mihajlovi, when contacting King Peter and his so-called advisers could hardly help contacting the British government as well. What a bonus! And naturally, at the same time, he contacted the British forces in the Middle East. For all I know the dunderheaded brasshats in Cairo may still regard the Colonel as the great white hope for Yugoslavia.’ He gestured towards Sarina and Michael. ‘In fact, the dunderheads unquestionably still do. Look at this gullible young couple here, specially trained by the British to come to the aid and comfort of the gallant etniks.’

‘We’re not gullible!’ Sarina’s voice was strained, her hands twisted together and she could have been close to either anger or tears. ‘We weren’t trained by the British, we were trained by the Americans. And we didn’t come to give aid and comfort to the etniks.’

‘There are no American radio operator schools in Cairo. Only British. If you received American training it was because the British wanted it that way.’ Harrison’s tone was as cool and discouraging as his face. ‘I think you’re gullible, I think you tell lies and I believe you came to help the etniks. I also think you’re a fine actress.’

‘Good for you, Jamie,’ Petersen said approvingly. ‘You got one thing right there. She is a fine actress. But she’s not gullible, she doesn’t tell lies – well, maybe one or two little white ones – and she didn’t come to help us.’

Both Harrison and Sarina stared at him in astonishment. Harrison said: ‘How on earth can you say that?’

‘Intuition.’

‘Intuition!’ Harrison, was, for Harrison, being heavily sardonic. ‘If your intuition is on a par with your judgment you can mothball the two of them together. And don’t try to side-track me. Hasn’t it struck you as ironic that when you and your precious etniks’ – Harrison was very fond of the word ‘precious’ and used it, always in its most derogatory sense, with telling effect – ’were receiving arms and payments from the Germans, Italians and Nedi’s quisling Serb régime, that you were simultaneously receiving arms and payments from the western allies – this, mark you, at a time when you were fighting along with the Germans, Italians and Ustaša in an attempt to destroy the Partisans, Britain’s only real allies in Yugoslavia?’

‘Have some more wine, Jamie.’

‘Thank you, George.’ Harrison shook his head. ‘I confess myself to being totally baffled and, when I say that, I mean baffled all round. By you etniks and by my own people. Can it really be that there are none so blind as will not see? Are you so gagged and blinkered by your all-consuming and wholly misguided sense of patriotism, by your blind allegiance to a discredited royalty that your myopic eyes are so reduced to a ten-degree field of tunnel vision that you have no concept of the three hundred and fifty degree of peripheral vision that lies beyond? Are my people in London similarly affected? They have to be, they have to be, for what else could explain the inexplicable, the incomprehensible idiocy of keeping on sending supplies to Mihajlovi when they have before them incontrovertible evidence that he is actively collaborating with the Germans.’

‘I’ll bet you couldn’t say that again,’ Petersen said admiringly. ‘All the big words, I mean. As you say, Jamie, it’s all probably reduced to a factor of vision, what lies in the eye of the beholder.’ He rose, crossed over to the fireplace and sat down beside Sarina. ‘This is not really a switch, we’re talking about the same thing. How did you enjoy your tête-à-tête with the Colonel this morning?’

‘Tête-à-tête? I didn’t have any tête-à-tête with him. Michael and I just reported to him. You told us to. Or have you forgotten?’

‘I’ve forgotten nothing. But I think you have. Walls have ears. Not original, but still true.’

She glanced quickly at Michael then back again. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Walls also have eyes.’

‘Stop brow-beating my sister!’ Michael shouted.

‘Brow-beating? Asking a simple question is brow-beating? If that’s what you call browbeating maybe I should start beating you about the brow. You were there, too, of course. You got anything to tell me? You have, you know. I already know what your answer should be. Your truthful answer.’

‘I’ve got nothing to tell you! Nothing! Nothing at all!’

‘You’re a lousy actor. Also, you’re too vehement by half.’

‘I’ve had enough of you, Petersen!’ Michael was breathing quickly and shallowly. ‘Enough of your bullying my sister and me.’ He jumped to his feet. ‘If you think I’m going to stand –’

‘You’re not going to stand, Michael.’ George had come up behind Michael and laid his hands on his shoulders. ‘You’re going to sit.’ Michael sat. ‘If you can’t keep quiet I’ll have to tie and gag you. Major Petersen is asking questions.’

‘Good Lord!’ Harrison was or seemed outraged. ‘This is a bit thick, George. A bit high-handed, I must say. Peter, I don’t think you’re any longer in a position to –’

‘And if you don’t keep quiet,’ George said with a trace of weariness in his voice, ‘I’ll do the same thing to you.’

‘To me!’ No question, this time the outrage was genuine. ‘Me? An officer? A Captain in the British Army! By God! Giacomo, you’re an Englishman. I appeal to you –’

‘Appeal is denied. I wouldn’t hurt an officer’s feelings by telling him to shut up, but I think the Major is trying to establish something. You may not like his military philosophy but at least you should keep an open mind. And I think Sarina should too. I think you’re both being foolish.’

Harrison muttered ‘My God’ twice and subsided.

Petersen said: ‘Thanks, Giacomo. Sarina, if you think I’m trying to hurt you or harm you then you are, as Giacomo says, being foolish. I couldn’t and wouldn’t. I want to help. Did you and the Colonel have or not have a private conversation?’

‘We talked, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Of course you talked. If I sound a bit exasperated, it’s pardonable. What did you talk about? Me?’

‘No. Yes. I mean, among other things.’

‘Among other things,’ he mimicked. ‘What other things?’

‘Just other things. Just generally.’

‘That’s a lie. You talked just about me and, maybe, a bit about Colonel Lunz. Remember, walls can have both ears and eyes. And you can’t remember what you said when you sold me down the river which is where I am now. How many pieces of silver did the good Colonel give you?’

‘I never did!’ She was breathing quickly now and there were patches of red high up on her cheeks. ‘I didn’t betray you. I didn’t! I didn’t!’

‘And all for a little piece of paper. I hope you got your due. You earned your thirty pieces. You didn’t know that I’d picked up the paper later, did you?’ He brought a piece of paper out from his tunic and unfolded it. ‘This one.’

She stared at it dully, looked at him equally dully, put her elbows on her knees, her face in her hands. ‘I don’t know what’s going on.’ Her voice was muffled. ‘I don’t know any more. I know you’re a bad man, a wicked man, but I didn’t betray you.’

‘I know you didn’t.’ He reached out a gentle hand and touched her shoulder. ‘But I know what’s going on. I have done all along. I’m sorry if I hurt you but I had to get you to say it. Why couldn’t you have admitted it in the first place? Or have you forgotten what I said only yesterday morning?’

‘Forgotten what?’ She took her hands from her face and looked at him. It was difficult to say if the hazel eyes were still dull for there were tears in them.

‘That you’re far too nice and too transparently honest to do anything underhand. There were three pieces of paper. The one I gave to the Colonel, this one I’d made out before leaving Rome – I never picked anything up after your talk with him – and the one Colonel Lunz had given to you.’

‘You are clever, aren’t you?’ She’d wiped the tears from her eyes and they weren’t dull any more, just mad.

‘Cleverer than you are, anyway,’ Petersen said cheerfully. ‘For some inexplicable reason Lunz thought that I might be some kind of spy or double agent and change the message, forge a different set of orders. But I didn’t, did I? The message I gave the Colonel was the one I received and it checked with the copy Lunz had given you. Paradoxically, of course – you being a woman – this annoyed you. If I had been a spy, a sort of reconverted renegade who had gone over to the other side, you would have been no end pleased, wouldn’t you? You might have respected me, even liked me a little. Well, I remained an unreconstructed etnik. You were aware, of course, that if I had changed the orders that Mihajlovi would have had me executed?’

A little colour drained from her face and she touched her hand to her lips.

‘Of course you were unaware. Not only are you incapable of double-dealing, not only are you incapable of thinking along double-dealing lines, you’re not even capable of thinking of the consequences to the double-dealer who has overplayed his hand. How an otherwise intelligent girl – well, never mind. As I’ve said before, in this nasty espionage world, leave the thinking to those who are capable of it. Why did you do it, Sarina?’

‘Why did I do what?’ All of a sudden she seemed quite defenceless. She said, almost in a monotone: ‘What am I going to be accused of now?’

‘Nothing, my dear. I promise you. Nothing. I was just wondering, although I’m sure I know why, how it came about that you went along with this underground deal with Colonel Lunz, something so completely alien to your nature. It was because it was your only way into Yugoslavia. If you had refused, he’d have refused you entrance. So I’ve answered my own question.’ Petersen rose. ‘Wine, George, wine. All this talk is thirsty work.’

‘What is not common knowledge,’ George said, ‘is that listening is even thirstier work.’

Petersen lifted his replenished glass and turned towards Harrison. ‘To your health, Jamie. As a British officer, of course.’

‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Clutching his glass Harrison struggled to his feet. ‘Of course. Your health. Ah. Well. Extenuating circumstances, old boy. How was I –’

‘And a gentleman.’

‘Of course, of course.’ He was still confused. ‘A gentleman.’

‘Were you being a gentleman, Jamie, when you called her a gullible liar, and an aider and comforter to us miserable lot? This lovely and charming lady is not only not that, she’s something you’ve been looking for, something to gladden your patriotic heart, a true blue loyalist and not a true blue Royalist, a patriot in your best sense of the word, what you would call a Yugoslav. As dedicated a Partisan as one can be who has never seen a Partisan in her life. That’s why she and her brother came back to this country the hard way, to give – as you would put it in your customary stirring language, Jamie – their services to their country, i.e., the Partisans.’

Harrison put down his glass, crossed to where Sarina was sitting, stooped low, lifted the back of her hand and kissed it. ‘Your servant, ma’am.’

‘That’s an apology?’ George said.

‘For an English officer,’ Petersen said, ‘that is – as an English officer would say – a jolly handsome apology.’

‘He’s not the only one who’s due to make an apology.’ Michael wasn’t actually shuffling his feet but he looked as if he would have liked to. ‘Major Petersen, I have –’

‘No apology, Michael,’ Petersen said hastily. ‘No apology. If I’d a sister like that, I wouldn’t even talk to her tormentor, in this case, me. I’d clobber him over the head with a two by four. So if I don’t apologise to your sister for what I’ve done to her, don’t you apologize to me.’

‘Thank you very much, sir.’ He hesitated. ‘May I ask how long you’ve known that Sarina and I were – well, what you say we are.’

‘From the first time I saw you. Rather, let me say I suspected something was far wrong when I met you in that Rome apartment. You were both stiff, awkward, ill at ease, reserved, even truculent. No smile on the lips, no song in the heart, none of the eagerness, the youthful enthusiasm of those marching off into a glorious future. Ultra-cautious, ultra-suspicious. Wrong attitude altogether. If you’d been flying red flags you couldn’t have indicated more clearly that something was weighing heavily on your minds. Your pasts were so blameless, so your concern was obviously with future problems such – as became evident quite soon – how you were going to transfer yourselves to the Partisan camp after you had arrived at our HQ. Your sister lost little time in giving you away – it was in the mountain inn when she tried to convince me of her Royalist sympathies. Told me she was a pal of King Peter’s – prince, as he was then.’

‘I never did!’ Her indignation was unconvincing. ‘I just met him a few times.’

‘Sarina.’ The tone was mildly reproving.

She said nothing.

‘How often must I tell you –’

‘Oh, all right,’ she said.

‘She’s never met him in her life. She sympathized with me about his club foot. Young lad’s as fit as a fiddle. Wouldn’t know a club foot if he saw one. Well, all this is of interest but I’m afraid only academic interest.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Giacomo said. ‘It’s of more than academic interest to me.’ He was, as always, smiling, but in the circumstances, it was difficult to say what he was smiling about. ‘However, as a matter of academic interest, I’m totally in agreement with those kids – sorry, I mean Sarina and Michael. I don’t want to fight – I mean I don’t want to fight in those damned mountains; the Aegean and the Royal Navy will do me very nicely, thank you – but if I have to it’ll be with the Partisans.’

‘You’re like Jamie,’ Petersen said. ‘If you’re going to fight anybody it’s going to be the Germans?’

‘I think I made that pretty clear to you back in the Hotel Eden.’

‘You did. It’s still only a matter of academic interest. What are you going to do about it? How do you intend going about joining your guerrilla friends?’

Giacomo smiled. ‘I’ll wait for a break.’

‘You could wait for ever.’

‘Peter.’ There was a note of appeal, almost desperation, in Harrison’s voice. ‘I know you owe us nothing, that you have no responsibility for us any more. But there must be a way. However different our philosophies, we’re all in this together. Come on, Peter. We could settle our differences afterwards. Meantime – well, a man of your infinite resources and –’

‘Jamie,’ Petersen said gently. ‘Can’t you see the fence down the middle of this room. George, Alex and I are on one side. You five are on the other. Well, you, the von Karajans and Giacomo are. I don’t know about Lorraine. It’s a mile high, that fence, Jamie, and not for climbing.’

‘I see his point, Captain Harrison,’ Giacomo said. ‘The fence is not for climbing. Besides, my pride wouldn’t let me try it. I must say, Major, it’s not like you to leave loose ends lying around. Lorraine, here. Doesn’t she fit into a category? For our edification, I mean.’

‘Category? I don’t know. And not to give you offence, Lorraine, but I don’t really care now. It doesn’t matter. Not any more.’ He sat down, glass in hand, and said no more. As far as anyone could tell, Major Petersen had, for the first time in their experience, lapsed into a brooding silence.

It was a silence, punctuated only by the occasional glug-glug as George topped empty wineglasses, that stretched on and uncomfortably on, until Lorraine said suddenly and sharply: ‘What’s wrong? Please, what’s wrong?’

‘Speaking to me?’ Petersen said.

‘Yes. You’re staring at me. You keep on staring at me.’

‘Being on the wrong side of a fence doesn’t stop a man from having good taste,’ Giacomo said.

‘I wasn’t aware of it,’ Petersen said. He smiled. ‘Besides, as Giacomo said, it’s no hardship. I’m sorry. I was a long long way away, that’s all.’

‘And speaking of staring,’ Giacomo said cheerfully, ‘Sarina’s no slouch at it either. Her eyes haven’t left your face since you started your Rodin the thinker bit. There are deep currents, hereabouts. Do you know what I think? I think she’s thinking.’

‘Oh, do be quiet, Giacomo.’ She sounded positively cross.

‘Well, I suppose we’re all thinking one way or another,’ Petersen said. ‘Heaven knows we’ve plenty to think about. You, Jamie, you’re sunk in a pretty profound gloom. The bright lights? No. The white cliffs? No. Ah! The lights of home.’

Harrison smiled and said nothing.

‘What’s she like, Jamie?’

‘What’s she like?’ Harrison smiled again, shrugged and looked at Lorraine.

‘Jenny’s wonderful,’ Lorraine said quietly. ‘I think she’s the most wonderful person in the world. She’s my best friend and James doesn’t deserve her. She’s worth ten of him.’

Harrison smiled like a man who was well-pleased with himself and reached for his wineglass; if he was wounded, he hid it well.

Petersen looked away until his eyes lighted casually on Giacomo, who nodded almost imperceptibly: Petersen smiled slightly and looked away.

Twenty more minutes passed, partly in desultory conversation but mainly in silence, before the door opened and Edvard entered. ‘Major Petersen?’

Petersen rose. Giacomo made to speak but Petersen forestalled him. ‘Don’t say it. Thumbscrews.’

He was back inside five minutes. Giacomo looked disappointed. ‘No thumb-screws?’

‘No thumb-screws. I would like to say that they’re bringing out a rack and that you’re next. No rack. But you’re next.’

Giacomo left. Harrison said: ‘What was it like. What did they want?’

‘Very humane. Very civilized. What you would expect of Crni. Lots of questions, some very personal, but I just gave them name, rank and regiment, which is all you’re legally required to give. They didn’t press the matter.’

Giacomo was back in even less time than Petersen. ‘Disappointing,’ he said. ‘Very disappointing. They’d never have made the Spanish Inquisition. The courtesy of your presence, Captain Harrison.’

Harrison was away a little longer than either but not much. He returned looking very thoughtful. ‘You’re next, Lorraine.’

‘Me?’ She stood and hesitated. ‘Well, if I don’t go I suppose they’ll come for me.’

‘It would be most unseemly,’ Petersen said. ‘We’ve survived. What’s a lion’s den to an English girl like you?’

She nodded and left, but left reluctantly. Petersen said: ‘How was it, Jamie?’

‘An urbane lot, as you say. Seemed to know a surprising amount about me. No questions that had any military bearing that I could see.’

Lorraine was absent for at least fifteen minutes. When she returned she was rather pale and although there were no tears on her cheeks it seemed clear that she had been crying. Sarina looked at Petersen, Harrison and Giacomo, shook her head and put her arm round Lorraine’s shoulders.

‘They’re a gallant lot, aren’t they, Lorraine? Chivalrous. Concerned.’ She gave them a withering glance. ‘Maybe they’re just shy. Who’s next?’

‘They didn’t ask to see anyone.’

‘What did they do to you, Lorraine?’

‘Nothing. Do you mean – no, no, they didn’t touch me. It was just some of the questions they asked . . .’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Please, Sarina, I’d rather not talk about it.’

‘Maraschino,’ George said authoritatively. He took her by the arm, seated her and proffered a small glass. She took it, smiled gratefully and said nothing.

Crni came in accompanied by Edvard. He was, for the first time anyone had seen, relaxed and smiling.

‘I have some news for you. I hope you will find it good news.’

‘You’re not even armed,’ George said. ‘How do you know we won’t break every bone in your bodies? Better still, use you as hostage to escape? We are desperate men.’

‘Would you do that, Professor?’

‘No. Some wine?’

‘Thank you, Professor. Good news, at least I think it’s good news, for the von Karajans, Captain Harrison and Giacomo. I am sorry that we have been guilty of a small deception but it was necessary in the circumstances. We are not members of the Murge Division. We are, thank heavens, not even Italians. We are just common-orgarden members of a Partisan reconnaissance group.’

‘Partisans.’ There was no excitement in Sarina’s voice, just incomprehension tinged with disbelief.

Crni smiled. ‘It’s true.’

‘Partisans.’ Harrison shook his head. ’Pon my soul. Partisans. Well, now. I mean. Yes.’ He shook his head then his voice rose an octave. ‘Partisans!’

‘Is it true?’ Sarina had Crni by the arms and was actually shaking him. ‘Is it true?’

‘Of course it’s true.’

She searched his eyes as if searching for the truth, then suddenly put her arm around him and hugged him. She was very still for a moment then released him and stepped back. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

He smiled. ‘There’s no regulation that says that a young recruit, female, may not hug an officer. Not, of course, to make a practice of it.’

‘There’s that, too, of course.’ She smiled uncertainly.

‘There’s something else?’

‘No, not really. We’re terribly glad to see you.’

‘Glad?’ Harrison said. ‘Glad!’ The initial shock absorbed, he was in a state bordering on euphoria. ‘Nothing less than a merciful providence has sent you our way!’

‘It wasn’t a merciful providence, Captain Harrison. It was a radio message. When my commanding officer says “move”, I move. That’s the “something else” you wouldn’t talk about, Miss von Karajan. Your fears are groundless. Military regulations don’t allow me to shoot my boss.’

‘Your boss?’ She looked at him, then Petersen, then back at Crni. ‘I don’t understand.’

Crni sighed. ‘You’re quite right, Peter. You, too Giacomo. No espionage material among this lot. If there were they wouldn’t have to be hit over the head with the obvious. We’re both Partisans. We’re both in intelligence. I am the ranking subordinate officer. He is the deputy chief. I’m sure that makes everything clear.’

‘Perfectly,’ George said. He handed Crni a glass. ‘Your wine, Ivan.’ He turned to Sarina. ‘He doesn’t really like being called Crni. And don’t clench your fists. All right, all right, this is life in a nutshell. Decisions, decisions. Do you kiss him or do you hit him?’ The bantering note left George’s voice. ‘If you’re mad because you’ve been fooled, then you’re a fool. There was no other way. You and your hurt pride. You’ve got your Partisans and he hasn’t to face a firing squad. Don’t you know how to be glad, girl? Or is there no room for emotions like relief and gratitude in the minds of you spoilt young aristocrats?’

‘George!’ She was shocked, less because of the words than the tone she had never heard before. ‘George! I am so selfish?’

‘Never.’ His good humour instantly restored, he squeezed her shoulders. ‘It’s just that I thought it would rather spoil the flavour of the moment if you were to give Peter a black eye.’ He glanced sideways. Harrison, his forehead on his forearms on the table, was softly pounding the table with his fist and muttering to himself. ‘You are not well, Captain Harrison?’

‘My God, my God, my God!’ The pounding with the fist continued.

‘A ljivovica?’ George said.

Harrison lifted his head. ‘And the awful thing is that I am cursed with total recall. That,’ he added irrelevantly, ‘was why I was so good at passing exams. I can remember every word I said in that stirring speech about patriotism and duty and loyalty and myopic idiocy and – I can’t go on, I can’t.’

‘You mustn’t reproach yourself, Jamie,’ Petersen said ‘Think what it did for our morale.’

‘If there was any justice, any compassion in this world,’ Harrison said, ‘this floor would open up beneath me at this very moment. A British officer, I called myself, thereby meaning there was no other. A highly skilled observer, evaluator, analyzer. Good God! Total recall, I tell you, total recall. It’s hell!’

‘I’m sorry I missed that speech,’ Crni said.

‘Pity,’ Petersen said. ‘Still, you’ve heard about Jamie’s total recall. He can repeat it to you verbatim any time you want.’

‘Spare the vanquished,’ Harrison said. ‘I heard what you said to Sarina, George, but I remain bitter. Fooled, fooled, fooled. And doubly bitter because Peter didn’t trust me. But you trusted Giacomo, didn’t you? He knew.’

‘I told Giacomo nothing,’ Petersen said. ‘He guessed – he’s a soldier.’

‘And I’m not? Well, that’s for sure. How did you guess Giacomo?’

‘I heard what you heard. I heard the Major telling – suggesting rather, to Captain Crni that his intention to rope us up before descending that cliff path was dangerous. Captain Crni is not the man to take an order or suggestion from anyone. So then I knew.’

‘Of course. I missed it. So you didn’t trust any of us, did you Peter?’

‘I didn’t. I had to know where I stood with you all. Lots of odd things have been happening in Rome and ever since we left Rome. I had to know. You’d have done the same.’

‘Me? I wouldn’t have noticed anything odd in the first place. When did you come to the decision that you were free to talk? And why did you decide to talk? My God, when I come to think of it, when have you ever been free to talk? My word, I can’t imagine it, I just can’t. Can you, Sarina? Living the life of a lie, surrounded by enemies, one false move, one unconsidered slip, one careless word and pouf! And he spent almost half his time with us!’

‘Ah! But I spent the other half with our own people. Holiday, you might say.’

‘Oh, God, holiday. I knew – and I haven’t known you long – that you were something different, but this – but this – it passes my comprehension. And you, a man like you, you’re only the deputy chief. I’d love to meet the man you call chief.’

‘I don’t call him “chief.” I call him lots of other things but not that. As for loving to meet him, you don’t have to bother. You’ve already met him. In fact, you’ve described him. Big fat clown, naïve and illiterate, who spends his time floating around in cloud-cuckooland. Or was it the groves of academe? I don’t remember.’

Harrison spilled the contents of his glass on the table. He looked dazed. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Nobody does. I’m his right arm, only, in charge of field operations. As you know, he seldom accompanies me. This mission was different but, then, this was an unusually important mission. Couldn’t be trusted to bunglers like me.’

Michael approached George, a certain awed incredulity in his face. ‘But in Mostar you told me you were a Sergeant Major.’

‘A tiny prevarication.’ George waved his hand in airy dismissal. ‘Inevitable in this line of business. Tiny prevarications, I mean. But I did say it was a temporary not substantive rank. Generalmajor.’

‘Good God!’ Michael was overcome. ‘I mean “Sir”.’

‘It’s too much.’ Harrison didn’t even notice when George courteously refilled his glass. ‘It’s really too much. Too much for the reeling mind to encompass. Maybe I haven’t such a mind after all. Tell me next that I’m Adolph Hitler and I’d seriously consider the possibility.’ He looked at George, shook his head and drained half his glass. ‘You see before you a man trying to find his way back to reality. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. I was asking you when you came to the decision you were free to talk.’

‘When you told me – or Lorraine did – about your Jenny.’

‘Ah, yes, of course. Jenny. I see.’ It was plain that Harrison was quite baffled. He suddenly, physically, shook himself. ‘What the hell has Jenny got to do with this?’

‘Nothing, directly.’

‘Ah Jenny. Lorraine. The question that Captain Crni asked me through there.’

Lorraine said in a quiet voice: ‘What question, James?’

‘He asked me if I knew Giancarlo Tremino – you know, Carlos. Of course I said yes, I knew him very well.’ He looked down at his glass. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have answered. I mean, they weren’t torturing me or anything. Maybe I don’t have such a mind after all.’

‘It wasn’t your fault, James,’ Lorraine said. ‘You weren’t to know. Besides, there’s been no harm done.’

‘How do you know there’s been no harm done, Lorraine?’ Sarina sounded bitter. ‘I know it wasn’t Captain Harrison’s fault. And I know it wasn’t really Captain Crni who asked the question. Don’t you know that Major Petersen always finds out what he wants? Are we still to regard ourselves as prisoners in this room, Captain Crni?’

‘Good God, no! As far as I’m concerned the house is yours. Anyway, you don’t ask me. Major Petersen is in charge.’

‘Or you, George?’ She smiled faintly. ‘Sorry. I’m not used to the Generalmajor yet.’

‘Quite frankly, neither am I. George is fine.’ He smiled and wagged a finger at her. ‘Don’t try to spread dissension in the ranks. Outside my head office, which at the moment is a disused shepherd’s hut up near Biha, Peter is in sole charge. I just point in the general direction and then get out of the way. If you know you’re not in his class, as I’m wise enough to know, you don’t interfere with the best field operative there is.’

‘Could I speak to you, Major? In the hall?’

‘Ominous,’ he said and picked up his glass. ‘Very ominous.’ He followed her out and closed the door behind them. ‘Well?’

She hesitated. ‘I don’t know quite how to say this. I think –’

‘If you don’t know what to say and you’re still at the thinking stage, why waste my time in this really melodramatic fashion?’

‘It’s not silly. It’s not dramatic! And you’re not going to make me mad. What you’ve just said sums you up. Superior, cutting, contemptuous, never making allowances for people’s faults and weaknesses: and at the same time you can be the most thoughtful and kind person I know. It’s not just that you’re unbearable. You’re unknowable. Jekyll and Hyde. The Dr Jekyll bit I like and admire. You’re brave, George thinks you’re brilliant, you take incredible risks that would destroy a person like me and, best of all, you’re very good at looking after people. Anyway, I knew last night that you couldn’t belong to those people.’

Petersen smiled. ‘I won’t give you the chance of telling me again how nasty I am, so I won’t say you’re being wise after the event.’

‘You’re wrong,’ she said quietly. ‘It was something that Major Metrovi said last night about Tito’s Achilles’ heel, his lack of mobility, his three thousand wounded men. In any civilized war – if there is such a thing – those men would be left to the enemy who would treat them in hospital. This is no civilized war. They would be massacred. You could never be a party to that.’

‘I have my points. But you did not bring me out here to point those out.’

‘I did not. It’s the Mr Hyde side – oh, I don’t want to lecture but I dislike that side, it hurts me and it baffles me. That a man so physically kind can in other ways be so cold, detached, uncaring to the point of not being quite human.’

‘Oh, dear. Or, as Jamie would put it, I say, I say.’

‘It’s true. In order to gain your own ends, you can be – you are – indifferent to people’s feelings to the point of cruelty.’

‘Lorraine?’

‘Yes. Lorraine.’

‘Well, well. I thought it was axiomatic that two lovely ladies automatically disliked each other.’

She seized his upper arms. ‘Don’t change the subject.’

‘I must tell Alex about this.’

‘Tell him what?’ she said warily.

‘He thinks you detest one another.’

‘Tell Alex he’s a fool. She’s a lovely person. And you are tearing her to pieces.’

Petersen nodded. ‘She’s being torn to pieces all right. But I’m not the person who’s doing the tearing.’

She looked closely at him, her eyes moving from one of his to the other, as if hoping that would help her find the truth. ‘Then who is?’

‘If I told you, you’d just go and tell her.’ She said nothing, just kept up her intense scrutiny of his face. ‘She knows who is. But I don’t want her to think that it’s public knowledge.

She looked away. ‘Two things. Maybe, deep down, you do have some finer feelings after all.’ She looked at his eyes again and halfsmiled. ‘And you don’t trust me.’

‘I’d like to.’

‘Try.’

‘She’s a good, honest, patriotic British citizen and she’s working for the Italian secret service, specifically for Major Cipriano and she may well be responsible, however indirectly, for the deaths of an untold number of my fellow countrymen.’

‘I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it!’ Her eyes were wide and full of horror and her voice shook. ‘I don’t! I don’t! I don’t!’

‘I know you don’t,’ he said gently. ‘That’s because you don’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to believe it myself. I do now. I can prove it. Do you think I’m so stupid as to say I can prove a thing when I can’t. Or don’t you believe me either?’

‘I don’t know what to believe,’ she said wildly. ‘Yes, I do. I do. I do know what to believe. I don’t believe Lorraine could be like that.’

‘Too lovely a person, too honest, too good, too true?’

‘Yes! Yes! That’s what I believe.’

‘That’s what I believed, too. That’s what I still believe.’

Her grip on his arms tightened and she looked at him almost beseechingly. ‘Please. Please don’t make fun of me.’

‘She’s being blackmailed.’

‘Blackmailed! Blackmailed! How could anyone blackmail Lorraine?’ She looked away, was silent for some seconds, then looked back again. ‘It’s something to do with Carlos, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. Indirectly.’ He looked at her curiously. ‘How did you know that?’

‘Because she’s in love with him,’ Sarina said impatiently.

‘How do you know that?’ This time he was openly surprised.

‘Because I’m a woman.’

‘Ah, well, yes. I suppose that explains it.’

‘And because you had Captain Crni ask her about Carlos. But I knew before that. Anyone could see it.’

‘Here’s one who didn’t.’ He thought. ‘Well, hindsight, retrospect, yes. But I said only indirectly. Nobody would be stupid enough to use Carlos as a blackmail weapon. They’d find themselves with a double-edged sword in their hands. But, sure, he’s part of it.’

‘Well?’ She’d actually arrived at the stage where she had started shaking him, no mean feat with a person of Petersen’s bulk. ‘What’s the other part of it?’

‘I know, or I think I know, the other part of it. But I haven’t any proof.’

‘Tell me what you think.’

‘You think because she’s honest and good and true that she has led a blameless life, that she can’t possibly have any guilty secrets?’

‘Go on.’

‘I don’t think she’s got any guilty secrets either. Unless you call having an illegitimate child a guilty secret, which I don’t.’

She took her right hand away from his arm and touched her lips. She was shocked not by what he had said but because of its implications.

‘Carlos is a doctor.’ He sounded tired and, for the first time since she had met him, he looked tired. ‘He qualified in Rome. Lorraine lived with him during the time she was Jamie Harrison’s secretary. They have a son, aged two and a half. It’s my belief that he’s been kidnapped. I’ll find out for sure when I have a knife at Cipriano’s throat.’

She stared at him in silence. Two tears trickled slowly down her cheeks.