War Game

maliciously exploiting it.

'Absolutely correct.' In other circumstances he might have capped Mitchell with another quotation. But with Mitchell it dummy5

might be as well to resist such temptations. The young man's knowledge was once more going to be as useful as his brains, and he could see now why the Brigadier had supplied him.

But it was going to take some getting used to, the handling for the first time of a subordinate who could equal him at his own game, and had no scruples about trying to do so.

'That's very apposite, Paul. And most interesting.' He smiled patronisingly. 'So the Royalists won the battle of Swine Brook Field. Now then—'

'But there's more to it than that,' cut in Mitchell quickly.

'You see, if it hadn't been for that—the bloodthirsty Monson story—it's a hundred to one we wouldn't be here now.

Because the Double R people —the Royalist and Roundhead Society— arranged to have the stream run red again for their mock battle. And in the end it was that which gave the game away. The murder, that is—'

'No, Paul.' Audley held up his hand. 'I want to get that first hand.' He looked at his watch. 'We're due to meet the police at the scene of the crime in ten minutes from now. I need to hear their side first before your interpretation of it.'

That was the truth, or at least the truth only slightly bent to bring it home to Mitchell that it was David Audley, not Paul Mitchell, who was running the operation.

'What I want now, before we meet them, is a rundown on this Double R Society. Not the mock-battle, just the Society,'

Audley said innocently, still pretending to concentrate on dummy5

Mitchell.

Mitchell's face fell. 'Oh—well, you'll have to ask Frances about them, they're her pigeons.'

'I see. . . . Well, Frances?' He turned towards her.

With Frances there were no special reservations to be made.

But there was, he was instantly reminded, one disconcerting tendency to be mastered. Being all of eight inches taller than she was, he was forced to look down on her, and in looking down he found it extremely difficult to stop at her face.

Indeed, no matter that the faded denim shirt was chastely buttoned to the neck—by some unjust alchemy that seemed to emphasise what it was intended to conceal—he found himself now looking directly at her chest.

Damnation!

He tried again. One quick look at her

'The Double R Society?'

And then away from her altogether. Anywhere.

'In one word . . .' If she had observed the first glance she gave no sign of at. Probably she was used to men with eyes like organ-stops, poor girl. 'In a word— weird.'

'Weird . . . meaning?'

She shook her head. 'It's not easy to explain. There are a number of these Civil War groups . . . the Sealed Knot was the first one. Then there's the King's Army and the Roundhead Association, who operate together. They all do pretty much the same thing—mock-battles for charity dummy5

mostly. Charity and the fun of it, that's how it seemed to me at first ...'

'On the actual battlefields always?'

'For choice. They will put on a show anywhere, of course. But they prefer authentic locations. They like to get as close to the real thing as possible.'

Weird. He had to make allowance for her prejudice against military history—and against war itself. Weird or not, these Civil War buffs would start out with two strikes against them so far as Frances Fitzgibbon was concerned.

'And they do it for the fun of it, obviously. Dressing up and all that?'

'That's what I thought at first.' Frances frowned. 'But there's more to it than that ... I don't know about the other groups, but with the Double R Society it's rather more complicated.

They stage the battles for charity like the others, with thousands of people watching. And the battles are combined with seventeenth-century fairs and plays and concerts—also like the others. But they don't actually do all this for the spectators and the audiences—if nobody turned up they'd do it just the same. They do it for themselves, if you see what I mean. It's not a game or a hobby, it's almost an obsession.

And in a strange way it's even more than that . . . not just obsession. There's almost an element of possession.'

'You mean—they don't just play at being Royalists and Roundheads? They are Royalists and Roundheads?'

dummy5

'I think that's what I mean ...' She nodded doubtfully. 'But I still don't really understand what makes them tick.'

'There's a lot of esprit de corps in the different regiments, that's for sure,' agreed Mitchell. 'They have their own badges and they're proud of them.'