chirp, chirp-iittie sparrow. Tim smiled secretly and Garry flushed.
'For instance. Who did you send to reconnoitre these bridges-reliable
men, I hope?
'They are, sir.
'Who?'
'Friedman.
'oh! The little Jewish lawyer. A wise choice, Curtis, a commendably
wise choice. Garry sniffed and picked up the paperknife.
my God! Curtis marvelled. He's a Jew-baiter as well, this little
sparrow has all the virtues.
'Who else did you send?'
'A new recruit.'
'A new recruit? A new recruit!' Garry dropped the knife and lifted
his hands in appeal.
'I hhappen to have worked for him before the war. I know him well,
sir. He's a first-class man, I'd trust him before anyone else you
could name. In fact, I was going to ask you to approve his promotion
to sergeant. 'And what is the name of this paragon?'
Funnily enough its the same as yours, sir. Although he tells me you're
not related. His name is Courtney. Sean Courtney, Slowly, very
slowly, the expression of Garry's face altered. It became smooth,
neutral. Pale also, the lifeless, translucent paleness of a corpse's
face. All life died in his eyes as well-theY were looking inwards,
back into the secret places of long ago.
The dark places. They saw a small boy climbing a hill He was climbing
up through thick brush, young legs strong beneath him.
Climbing in deep shade, with the smell of leaf mould and the soft
murmur of insects, sweating in the heat of a Natal summer's morning,
eyes straining ahead through the dense green foliage for a glimpse of
the bush buck they were hunting, the dog leaning eagerly against the
leash and the same eagerness pumping in his own chest.
The dog barked once, and immediately the brush and stir of a big body
moving ahead of them, the click of a hoof against rock, then the rush
of its run.
The shot, a blunt burst of sound, and the buck bleating wounded as it
thrashed through the grass, and Sean's voice high and unbroken: 'I got
him. I got him first shot! Gary. Gary! I got him, I got him! '
Into the sunlight, the dog dragging him. Sean wild with excitement,
running down the slope towards him with the shotgun.
Sean falling, the gun flung from his hands, the roar of the second shot
and the blow that knocked Garry's leg out from under him.
Sitting now in the grass and staring at the leg. The little white
splinters of bone in the pulped flesh and the blood pumping dark and
strong and thick as custard.
'I didn't mean it ... Oh God, Garry, I didn't mean it. I slipped.
Honest, I slipped. ' Garry shuddered, a violent almost sensual spasm
of his whole body, and the leg beneath the desk twitched in sympathy.
'Are you all right, sir?' There was an edge of concern on Tim's
voice.
'I am perfectly well, thank you, Curtis.' Garry smoothed back the hair
