Soldier No More

.

Even, now he thought about the final bungling efforts of Rakosi to suppress dissent. . . even that could have been stage-managed to coincide with Suez—turning the inevitable explosion into a controlled blast.

They'd all been set up— the British and the French and the Americans. . . and the poor bloody Hungarians, who had been shot down in the streets by the thousand, most of all!

'David. . .'

'Yes?' He didn't raise his head to look at her this time, dummy5

because the thing was still continuing inside his brain, like a film which refused to end after the denouement.

'I'm sorry, David. I shot off my big mouth again.' That wasn't the end of it: he was part of it now—part of the continuation of the screwing process.

No wonder Genghis Khan was so pleased, and so determined to help Captain Roche to do his duty: he wouldn't only be placing the said Captain Roche—Major Roche to be—right inside Sir Eustace Avery's operation as a trusted officer who had proved his worth, he would also be planting a source of deliberately-leaked information at the highest level, an unimpeachable source as proved and trusted as the new Major himself!

The possibilities were endless—and irresistible—

'David...'

Damn the girl! Just as he was getting into his stride!

He raised his head and looked at her, and melted again immediately. And after all, he could afford to melt, for he had it all now, with the crowning opportunity of making a deal with the British which they couldn't resist either.

'Lexy?'

At least ... he had it all if Genghis Khan and Audley now did their different jobs right. That thought brought him down to earth again with a bump.

'You're angry with me. I can see it in your face. But I don't dummy5

blame you—I shot my stupid mouth off.' She stared at him contritely. 'I told you I was stupid.'

'I'm not angry.' That wasn't what she'd seen in his face: it was the face of treachery-in-doubt that she'd seen, poor kid.

'And you're not stupid.' And anyway. . . there was no reason why both men shouldn't do their jobs right: they each had sufficient incentive, by God!

'You looked black as thunder.'

'I was thinking dark thoughts, that's why. But not about you.' Once again, she relaxed his over-stretched nerves. And, in preparation for what was to come, they needed relaxing. 'I couldn't think dark thoughts about you.'

'What sort of thoughts—damn! I'm doing it again, aren't I!'

'Doing what?' He surrendered to the game.

'Sowing ideas. And I usually reap—or rape, as David Audley says— where I sow. But I'm tired of reaping and raping, even though I can't seem to stop sowing. So don't let's bother with thoughts, David darling.'

'No bother. Sad, maybe . . . but no bother—my thoughts about you.'

'Sad?'

'Unattainable, let's say.' Because he had just been thinking of Bill Ballance, who had left half his right hand by the roadside between Nijme-gen and Arnhem in '44, the war came to his rescue. 'Speaking as a soldier . . . a bridge too far

—or several bridges, possibly.'

dummy5

Me? Unattainable?' Her eyes widened.

Her humility irritated him. It hadn't been the loss of Julie which had brought him to this pass—he could have lost her in any one of a hundred ways, and still not been vulnerable to the Comrades' offer after her death .... It was the waste of Julie which had been unforgivable—it was for that he had wasted his own life in an empty and foolish protest.

A ball splashed into the water, a yard from where he lay, where a sluggish back-current from the fierce flow in the centre caught it, turning it slowly.

A small boy, thin and brown as an Indian, tripped across the stones on small feet which made light of discomfort, to retrieve it. The boy picked up the ball and looked shyly at Roche. 'Pardon, m'sieur!' Roche nodded dismissively.

'M'sieur—la-bas—' the boy spoke breathlessly, nodding towards the trees on the bank beyond the expanse of stones on the flood-plain of the river and trying to keep his voice down to an urgent whisper at the same time '— M'sieur Galles vous attend!'

Roche stared back at him for a moment, observing that he held the ball one-handed now to keep whatever coin Galles had given him safe.

He nodded again, but solemnly this time, to keep the great secret between them intact, so that the coin would be fairly earned.

The boy looked back at him for another moment, huge-eyed dummy5