The '44 Vintage

remember?'

'I hadn't forgotten.' Audley shook his head stiffly.

'And a job to do,' Winston persisted. 'A job, huh?'

Audley took the warning at last. 'Of course . . .' The arrogance was gone from his voice. 'Look, m'sieur

—if they have no use, you said. Give us one of the cars and we'll take him with us. Because where we're going we may find a use for him. I'll be responsible for him—personally.'

This time the Frenchman's lips twisted in the other direction. 'Oh yes? And when you are a prisoner—a prisoner under your rules of war— and he is free again . . . and I am dead—and we are dead . . . and our little town is like Oradour-sur-Glane, where the women and children are also dead—you will still be responsible? Personally?'

Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage

'What d'you mean, 'when he's free again'?' Audley grabbed the German's handcuffed hands and lifted them up. 'What the hell are these—charm bracelets?'

The Frenchman stared at the handcuffs for a moment. Then he shrugged. 'So he has committed some crime. But he is still a German officer.'

'Very true. But if they're taking the trouble to pull him out of the battle'—Audley dropped the German's hands and pointed to the staff car—'then he's in big trouble himself. And that makes him practically one of us.'

Audley's voice was no longer arrogant—it was vehement.

'Lieutenant—' Winston started to interrupt again.

'Shut up, Sergeant!' snapped Audley.

Winston raised his eyebrows at Butler hopelessly.

'So you say ' morte la bete, mort le venin'—vous voulez qu'il tombe de Charybde en Scylla,' went on Audley. 'But I say that's the very reason why he can be of use to us.'

Butler saw, out of the corner of his eye, that the Resistance men were clearing up around them: one of them was lugging a body up the hillside while another scuffed leaves and dirt into the pool of blood which the dead soldier had left. And as they did so one piece of his mind was obstinately attempting to translate Audley's French—'dead the beast, dead the' . . . what on earth was le venin?— while his finger lay on the trigger of the cocked Sten.

Madness!

'No, Lieutenant—'

Why did everybody else pronounce that rank differently? thought Butler irritably. To the American it was loo-tenant and to the Frenchman it was lyuhtenon—

'—because if his friends get him back—'

'Why should they get him back?' cut in Audley.

'Why?' The Frenchman sniffed. 'Because the American tanks have not crossed the river. They are heading north and east past Orleans ... so if his friends get him back—and when he feels the muzzle kiss the back of his neck—then he will remember that he is a German officer. And then he will trade us in Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage

exchange for his life—'

' No!' said the German.

The Frenchman looked at the German, at first impassively and then with a trace of pity. 'Oh yes—there is your word of honour, I know—'

'No.' The boy's shoulders sagged.

'What then?'

The lock of hair had fallen across the white face again, and the German's other eye had closed. The ring under it was so dark as to look almost like a bruise: it was not just the face of defeat, but of disintegration.

' Ich bin ein Kind des Todes . . . aus dem Regen in die Traufe.' The eye opened, almost defiantly. 'There are not enough Frenchmen in France to trade for me. There is in the car ... a case . . .' He frowned. 'A briefcase.'

The Frenchman stiffened, looked quickly at the staff car, and then at Audley. ' Un moment, Lieutenant . . .'

They watched him dive into the staff car and retrieve the briefcase. But when he'd ripped it open he showed no inclination to share its contents with them.

Winston leaned forward towards the German. 'Captain . . . this had better be good.'

Captain Grafenberg looked at him questioningly. 'Please?'

'I mean'—Winston heaved a sigh—'I hope you've done something real bad—like surrendered half the German Army maybe. Or put arsenic in Rommel's coffee. Or given Himmler the V-sign.'

'Please?' The captain looked as though he was ready to burst into tears.

'Because if you haven't, then I think you and the lieutenant there have got us into one hell of a mess.'

Winston turned suddenly towards Audley, and Butler saw to his surprise that he was grinning. 'Not that I don't go along with you, Lieutenant sir. It's just that I never thought I was going to die in the defence of the German Army, that's all. The British Army—I've just about gotten used to that. But the German Army ... I'd really like a little more time to adjust to that. What d'you think, Corporal Jack?' He tilted his head towards Butler.

Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage