Soldier No More

'Then listen. We know now where Audley's money comes from—'

'So do I. He wrote Princess in the Sunset,' interrupted Roche quickly. Another advantage was that the memory of that face was less daunting than the actual sight of it: he had to envisage Genghis Khan as he was now— imprisoned in sweaty peach-sweet darkness, with wasps buzzing around his dummy5

ears, not as the descendant of the Mongols and the out-rider of the next race' of conquerors.

'He told you?'

'No.' Better to think of the man in there as a Hun than a Mongol: Audley's Aetius, the Last of the Romans, and his half-civilised Visigothic allies had beaten them not far from here fifteen hundred years back. So it could be done—it wasn't impossible if he kept his head.

'What?' The sound of a slight movement inside the van, above the wasp-buzz, encouraged Roche.

'I said 'no'—he didn't tell me. He doesn't want anyone to know he's Antonia Palfrey. It wouldn't do his image as a serious historian any good . . . among the serious historians.'

Roche smiled at the fields of Neuville as he thought of what Dr Bodger would make of Antonia Audley. In any last resort there was a weapon to hand there.

But not a weapon to use against Genghis Khan. 'What's more, he's writing another novel—he's writing two books, actually: there's a novel about the Vandals in the 5th century, which I think he's finished . . . and there's a history of the Arab invasion of these parts in the 8th century. Which is why he's here now—' the weapon he needed for Genghis Khan fitted snugly into his hand '—all of which I think Colonel Clinton and Sir Eustace Avery already know. . . among other things,' he lowered his voice deliberately, to make it more difficult for Genghis Khan to hear, for tactical reasons as well as pure sadism.

dummy5

'What? Clinton knows?' The surprise in the muffled voice was balm to Roche's soul. The thing was working—Genghis Khan could be tweaked into a human reaction, he wasn't invincible: Aetius, when he saw the sun shimmer on the lance-points of the Gothic army coming to his aid must have felt like this!

'He didn't want to make it too easy for me. It's a test for me

—' Caution quickly counter-balanced confidence: it was Steffy about whom he needed to know, not the source of Audley's wealth '—at least, it was until things started going wrong, anyway.'

'Too easy?' To Roche's disappointment, Genghis Khan shrugged aside things going wrong. 'Why too easy?'

'Audley wants to come back, he only had to be asked in the right way. I think Clinton knew that—that was never the real thing they were after.' He weakened slightly, remembering Genghis Khan's interpretation of the assignment. 'You were right there.'

'You are sure about Audley?' Genghis Khan also brushed off the olive branch.

'Of course I'm sure.' Nothing less than certainty would do for Genghis Khan, even if nothing would ever be certain about David Audley.

Only wasp-buzzing came from the darkness and peach-boxes. It was high time to walk away, and make like a tourist waiting for his girl-friend, but he couldn't leave it at that dummy5

now, he had to qualify it somehow.

'That's my reading of him, anyway. I'd need much more time to tie it up—and professional advice. But we haven't got any more time,' he snapped.

'But you are prepared to stake your life on it?'

So that was what he was doing: One must always risk one's life, or one's soul, or one's peace— or some little thing!

'I know he's bloody bored, and that's a fact!' said Roche bitterly, from the heart.

'Bored? 'The incubus-voice relaxed. 'Ah, yes! Bored. . .'

Roche sensed that he had to keep the initiative. 'But what I want to know is ... what happened to Meriel Stephanides,' he snapped at the bastide- fields.

'Where is she now?' There was a harsh edge to Genghis Khan's voice. 'Have you lost track of her?'

He didn't know about Steffy! The realisation jolted Roche that the Comrades were as criminally incompetent as the British.

'She's dead, damn it!' He needed time to think, and there was one very simple and overdue way of taking it.

He moved away from the van, towards the bastion on the far side of the arched gateway. The street was still empty, and the dog had got the children's ball at last, with which it was joyfully baiting them as they screamed at him to give it back.

Just an accident after all? Or if not an accident, and not the dummy5

Comrades. . . then who!

The sun blinded him for a moment, and he felt another long trickle of sweat run down his back again under his shirt. . .

And if Genghis Khan didn't know, then how much else didn't he know? And how much were events pushing him, as Roche himself felt pushed by them, to make assumptions, and to act, and to take risks which would normally be rated as unacceptable?

'Are you there?' Genghis Khan's voice was back to normal.

'How did she die?'

A wasp zoomed out of the darkness, gorged on peach-juice and flying somewhat erratically. 'Her car ran off the