Dominion

‘Aye, likely.’ Ben lowered his voice. ‘The people who questioned me were all military. They’re pissed off by all the trouble this mission’s caused. They don’t seem too happy with us.’

‘All we’ve done is follow orders.’

‘They seem to think we’re more trouble than we’re worth.’

‘I was scared when we were taken off that truck,’ David confessed. ‘I thought they might shoot us. You did too, didn’t you?’

‘Aye. I thought they’d decided to get rid of the problem.’

‘Are we still going to the coast?’

‘They won’t say. Nor where the fuck we are.’

‘I took a quick look outside, could only see some sort of terrace. There was a guard outside, he made me shut the curtain again.’

‘There’s people with rifles all over the house, and a guard posted in the corridor outside.’

‘Are they going to move us on?’

‘Fuck knows.’ Ben looked across at Frank. ‘Poor wee bastard, he’s best off out of it all for a while.’

David said wearily, ‘I was thinking earlier, I wonder if this is any worse for him than for the rest of us?’

Ben said, ‘I think life is worse for him than for most people. In the asylum, you know, some of them were quite happy, just living there. Though others just pretended to be. But Frank hated it.’ He looked at David seriously. ‘I know you think I’m a bit hard on him sometimes, but in the loony bin you have to make it clear who’s boss. It just reflects the system, keepin’ people under as cheaply as possible. It’ll be different after the revolution.’ A misty, longing look came into Ben’s eyes. ‘I didnae like it much, reminded me too much of when I was inside.’

David looked at him curiously. He realized the chippy young Communist was becoming a friend. ‘You said you were in prison when you were young. What was it for?’ he asked.

Ben glanced at him doubtfully, then said, matter-of-factly, ‘When I was seventeen I got found in bed with my best mate. He wis sixteen.’

‘Oh.’ David was astonished. He thought queers were girlish, effeminate, like a man who had worked in the Dominions Office and been sacked when they’d cleared out possible security risks a few years ago. Involuntarily, he leaned away. Ben saw the movement and smiled sarcastically.

‘Yeah, that’s right. I’m one of those. The Glasgow magistrates threw the book at me, and ma family disowned me. They were all Presbyterian Orangemen, poor as fuck and blaming it on the Irish.’ He shook his head, smiling sadly. ‘There wis five of us kids in three rooms, the babies had to sleep in drawers at night; there wisnae anywhere else to put them. My sister accidentally shut the drawer on ma wee brother Tam one night. He near suffocated, he wis always a bit slow after. I wis the clever one, no’ that it did me much good. A year in a reformatory and six strokes of the birch.’

David couldn’t think of what to say. He remembered the scars he had seen across Ben’s back. ‘The birch,’ he said quietly. ‘My father had clients who were sentenced to it. He used to say it was barbaric.’

‘Disnae sound much when you say it, does it, the birch, but when you’re strapped to a rack with nothin’ on and they bring that bunch of knotted canes out, well, I fucking wet myself. Still,’ he added bitterly, ‘it toughened me up, as they say.’ He looked David in the eye. ‘And we have to be hard, if we’re to fight for something better.’

‘I know.’ They fell silent. Then David asked, ‘Did they say when Natalia’s coming back?’

‘They didn’t tell me nuthin’.’ Ben smiled sarcastically again. ‘So you and she got together, then? I saw you both as you came down the stairs.’

‘Yes,’ David answered quietly. ‘Yes, we did.’

Ben shrugged. ‘It’s all right by me, pal. I’m the last one to cast aspersions. Natalia’s a tough one. I admire her. She’s been on some hard missions. I wouldn’t get too many romantic notions, though,’ he added.

David shook his head wearily. ‘I don’t know what notions I’ve got any more.’

‘It’s like that, bein’ on the run. Nae anchor, nae certainty about anything, nothing familiar. Sometimes you cling to people, take pleasure when you get the chance. It’s no’ a great way to live.’

‘No. That’s true enough.’

Ben looked at him seriously. ‘That’s why I’m glad I’m a Marxist. I’ve got something bigger than me, a truth to hold on to.’

‘A belief, at least.’

‘If you like.’

David said, ‘All I want’s an end to this savagery.’

‘Don’t we all?’ Ben stood up. ‘Anyway, I’m away for a piss, then I’ll try and get some sleep.’

David couldn’t get to sleep again. The terrible events of the day before kept spinning round in his mind. A few feet away, Ben had begun to snore lightly. His confession had been a total surprise. David thought, nothing in the world is how I believed it was, none of the safe certainties were true, ever.

After a while he padded over to the door in his stockinged feet and opened it gently. Outside, a young man in the ubiquitous khaki uniform with the Union Jack on the breast sat on a chair, rifle over his knees, half-asleep. He blinked, sat up straight and looked at David.

‘I need the toilet,’ David said quietly.

The guard jerked his head to the right. ‘Second door down.’

‘Thanks.’

This corridor looked modern, plasterboard walls, perhaps added to the house recently. David went to the door the guard had indicated. The lavatory looked as though it was a recent addition, too, just a little windowless cupboard room with a toilet and washbasin. As he went in he heard male voices murmuring. They seemed to be coming from low down, by his feet. He knelt and bent his ear to where the toilet pipe joined the wall and found he could make out the voices. There was some sort of conference going on, perhaps in the next room. There was a mixture of accents, arguing in loud tones. David made out the voice of the captain who had brought them. ‘It’s got too dangerous. We have to abort the mission. We tell the Americans it’s too risky.’

‘Then what happens to Muncaster and the others?’ A Liverpudlian accent.

‘I still say we could get this secret of Muncaster’s out of him ourselves,’ said a languid upper-class drawl. ‘Might be useful, whatever it is; if Germany collapses and Britain becomes properly independent again, we’ll be doing our own weapons research.’

The captain again: ‘Don’t be so bloody silly, Brendan. That would really piss the Yanks off. We’re going to need them now more than ever.’

‘What do we do with them, then, shoot them?’

The captain raised his voice: ‘Those people have risked their lives to get Muncaster here. We can absorb them within the organization. But Muncaster – given his mental state – I don’t know.’

‘If the decision’s to get rid of him, we might as well get what he knows out of him first,’ the man called Brendan retorted.

‘How can you even talk about it?’ The Liverpudlian accent. ‘An innocent man?’

‘A potentially dangerous man—’

The Liverpudlian: ‘Look, the Germans don’t know anything about the pickup.’

‘And if we go ahead and they’re caught . . .’

A new voice, cold and flat: ‘They’ve got suicide pills. Except for Muncaster—’

‘Well, we know the options.’ The Captain spoke with a touch of weariness. ‘We’re not going to agree. The ultimate decision is out of our hands. The briefing meeting’s at half past six tomorrow, so I suggest we get some rest, but think over the options carefully. There’ll have to be a decision first thing, there’s going to be a hell of a lot to decide over the next few days, with Hitler’s death announced.’

David heard murmurs, chairs scraping, a laugh, a door slamming. Then nothing. He stayed crouched over by the toilet, his fist in his mouth, trying to contain his rage, his eyes full of tears. They were pawns, just pawns. But then he thought, it was war and they were soldiers, volunteers. But not Frank.

There was a sharp rap at the door. The guard’s voice, loud. ‘You all right in there?’

David heaved himself to his feet, went and opened the door. The guard looked suspicious for a moment, then sympathetic. ‘Blimey, you look rough.’

‘Yes. Constipated. Not really eaten properly recently.’