The Hour of the Donkey

'Before that . . .'

'Before that Brigadier Carter was just a genuine practising Fascist,' said Freddie.

'No. Not practising—that's not permitted for a serving officer.' The Brigadier eyed Freddie balefully. 'Just convinced.'

'He didn't like Jews and Communists,' amended Freddie.

'And he made no secret of it.'

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'Still don't. Too many Jew-boys and Reds in high places.' The Brigadier held himself stiffly. 'But that doesn't mean that I'll betray my country to the first Hun who approaches me.'

Freddie half-smiled. 'A reasonable mistake on their part. But a mistake, nevertheless ... Because then he came to us. And now he's fighting for the Jews and the Communists instead.'

'That I'm certainly not!' snapped the Brigadier.

'Well, maybe not, sir. But you joined us—and I joined you, anyway.'

'To keep an eye on me, eh?' The bushy eyebrow on the left lifted sardonically. 'In case I was one of your 'doubles'?'

'If you say so, sir. Perhaps at first.'

The Brigadier scowled at Bastable. 'They never trust anyone absolutely, his people, it's their occupational disease. And neither do the Huns, for much the same reasons, only more so. Which is where you came in, my lad!'

'Where? I beg your pardon—?'

'You may even have saved the day at that, in fact.'

Bastable stared at the Brigadier in astonishment. 'What?'

'I told you—they never trust anyone. And Obergruppenfuhrer Keller is no exception to the rule; he simply couldn't quite bring himself to believe that we were offering him authentic information. Which is hardly to be wondered at, with their front-line commanders wanting to go hell-for-leather up the coast, and telling them there's nothing in their way ... whereas we simply couldn't give him enough dummy4

corroborating facts to back our version. Because we're not running the show, Willis. We're just mixing what little truth we've got in with a lot of damned lies.'

'The Arras attack has shaken 'em up, I think,' cut in Freddie.

'And Boulogne will help.'

'And Calais too—the Rifles'll die hard—' The Brigadier nodded and flinched. 'But there isn't enough—or there wasn't enough until you descended out of nowhere, Willis, like the wrath of God—shouting 'Traitor' at the top of your voice—

and shot me!'

'And were shot in your turn, too!' supplemented Freddie.

The Brigadier just managed to stop himself nodding.

'That's right. Positively heroic ... I suppose it would have been even better if you'd actually killed me ... But you did the next best thing, Captain: you did your incompetent best, by God!'

Bastable licked his lips and looked from one to the other.

'Don't look so unhappy, my dear fellow,' said the Brigadier.

'Don't you see— you shot me as a traitor. And that does rather suggest that I am a traitor—someone worth killing.

And someone worth dying for, too, by God! And that's about the strongest corroboration you can give to a man's story, to my way of thinking.'

Freddie nodded agreement. 'Keller was certainly a lot more friendly after that.'

'And so he damn well should be!' snapped the Brigadier. 'He dummy4

was supposed to have suppressed Captain Willis—and I told him so in no uncertain terms, the incompetent swine . .. But you, Willis—you just may have tipped the balance our way, that's the long and short of it. So what do you say to that, eh?'

Bastable looked down at the pistol in his hand, which he was embarrassed to discover was still pointing more or less at the Brigadier. He lowered it hastily.

'I—I don't know what to say, sir,' he said lamely.

'You don't feel like trying a third shot, then?' The left eyebrow lifted. 'While you've got the chance, eh?'

Bastable swallowed.

The Brigadier reached forward and lifted the pistol out of his hand. 'Wouldn't have done you any good if you had. No bullets in it. Freddie prudently removed them.'

Bastable looked at Freddie.

And at Freddie's pistol, which was covering him.

The Brigadier also looked at Freddie. 'Well, Major Clinton, I've played my last charade for you. But whoever he is, if he won't press the trigger after what we've given him then he can't be one of your damned Abwehr men—or any other sort of Hun, for that matter, if you ask me.'