lane they had left. Only now it was also a long way away.
They hugged the earth until it had faded.
'They got better things to do than look for us,' said Winston hopefully. 'Come to that, the way the jeep went up, maybe they think we're still riding in it, with a bit of luck.'
'True. But they could be looking to see whether there are any more of us,' murmured Audley. 'Which there won't be.'
Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage
Butler stared at him. He was beginning to remember the confused events of their passage through Sermigny in greater detail.
'The other jeeps didn't get through,' he said.
'Correction,' snapped Audley. 'The other jeep—singular.'
Butler stared at him for a moment. Then he knew suddenly why he had been so angry—why he was still angry—and why he was going to remain angry until the score was evened.
'That treacherous bugger Purvis!' he whispered.
'And O'Conor,' agreed Audley. 'In fact—O'Conor first and last Purvis merely set us up. He merely directed us.'
'Holy God!' said Sergeant Winston.
'Yes,' said Audley. ''I've had a look-see myself—take it nice and easy, and don't run over any kiddies'—
we let ourselves be taken, and he took us. Two little birds with one stone, and he even got someone else to throw it.'
'But. . . the other jeep?' Butler raised his hand to scratch his scalp, which was itching, and then thought better of it. The bleeding seemed to have stopped of its own accord; he didn't know why it had stopped, only that was no more surprising than the fact that he couldn't remember when or how it had started. But it was better left alone, anyway.
'His own men, you mean?' Audley nodded thoughtfully. 'Yes, that was pretty average cold-blooded—
even by O'Conor's standards. . . . But then there's no reason why the whole of Chandos Force should be privy to the major's little scheme for liberating His Majesty's property on his own account ... in fact, when you think about it—the more you think about it, the less likely it is that anyone except his inner circle knows what he's planning.'
'Why not?' Butler had a feeling that Audley was right, but after Sergeant Purvis's appalling treachery nothing was certain any more, and he felt that everyone was guilty until proved innocent.
'Why not? Well . . . because loot has to be divided, for one thing, so the fewer there are, the bigger the shares. And the fewer there are, the safer the secret is—and I don't think even Major O'Conor could have assembled an entire platoon of gangsters like himself.' Audley turned towards the American. “What d'you think, Sergeant?'
Winston grunted. “Well, those two guys in the jeep behind us certainly weren't in on the deal, that's for sure.' He raised himself cautiously above the vines. 'But if you want to know what I think—I think we Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage
ought to put some more distance between us and those krauts while we can.'
'Can you see anything?'
Winston lowered his head. 'Nope. There's a column of smoke back there—looks like we started quite a fire, so maybe that'll keep them occupied some.'
'There is, is there?' Audley lifted himself to peer over the leaves. 'So there is, by jiminy! Now that's very promising . . .'
'Promising?'
'Yeah—how?'
Audley sank down again. 'If those chaps weren't 'in on the deal' ... I was just wondering how the esteemed sergeant—what was his name?' He looked at Butler.
'Purvis,' spat Butler.
'Purvis, yes—how Sergeant Purvis will have reported our disappearance to the rest of them—including Colonel Clinton.'
Winston frowned at him. 'Hell, Lieutenant. . . that's no problem. I can just see that smiling sonofabitch explaining how we took the wrong turning and ran into the village before he could stop us.'
'Exactly. They may even have heard the firing in the distance.'
'So what?'
'So what will the major do, then?'
Winston frowned more deeply, his forehead creasing. 'He'll shift his ass—?' He stared at Audley.
'He'll . . . ?'
'Limejuice,' said Butler.
'That's right.' Audley gave Butler a twisted non-smile. 'He'll do what he'd do if it was a genuine accident—he'll cover his tracks and spread alarm and confusion among the enemy with an air strike.
He'll have to do it to keep up the pretence—and I rather think he would have done it anyway. Because it makes good sense.'
Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage
This time Butler frowned—and discovered in doing so that it hurt to frown now. 'Good sense . . . sir?'
