Soldier No More

'I've worked for the Russians for years, Audley—ever since Korea. D'Auberon didn't give me his papers— they did. They know all about them . . . they ran the whole thing from start to finish. They've only given them to me now because it suits them. Do you understand?' It was simpler than he had imagined.

'God bless my soul!' At another time, in another world, Audley's astonishment would have been comical. But now it was merely inconvenient.

'So you let me take it out. I can talk to them—I can tell them who I am . . . why I'm here. Right?'

The black hole of the pistol wavered, then steadied. 'It won't do, Roche—I'm sorry, but it won't do!'

'Why not?'

'Because they won't believe you—that's why. Because you're dummy5

a European—because we've killed two of their comrades ... It won't even do if they believe you're KGB, because they don't trust the Russians either. What have the Russians ever done for them? At the best, they'll reckon we've given them something to delay them, while they look at it—and they'll take you apart to make sure. And they're good at that. . .

they've had plenty of practice, right from Roman times.'

All that was the truth—he knew it from his own knowledge, from the last report he had submitted—

French and Algerian FLN perceptions of Russian involvement and policies, with regard to the present situation in Algeria—his own work was arguing against him!

But not quite—

'Well—at least it'll delay them. And Raymond Galles is coming back here sometime—in the next hour or two. At least it's a chance, Audley.'

The black hole was still unwavering. 'Why?'

'Why what?'

'Why should I believe you—if you're a traitor?' The pistol jerked. 'You could be delaying me now—'

'I'm not a traitor any more—I've done with that!' Roche felt the pulse of life under his hand. But that wouldn't do for Audley, even if it was true: Audley needed something he could recognise. 'I don't belong to either side now —I choose for myself, and I say I'll soldier no more, and to hell with both sides—and all the other sides too!'

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He looked into the pistol and the light, caring beyond calculation at last, finally free of everything which had bound him.

'All right.' Audley's voice sounded strange. 'But my way, not yours. Because whatever we do they won't leave us alive, even if we did give it to them.'

'Your way?'

'There's a trap-door by the wall there—it's where the table is overturned. It leads down to a sort of cellar . . . the peasants who lived here years ago kept their chickens down there—

there's a little hatch in the wall... it lets out into a ditch—not much of a ditch, but there are a few bushes there, and some nettles . . . You squeeze out there, and keep down flat, and keep going... If they have got a man covering the back he'll be in the trees away to your right, but he won't be looking for anyone, because he can't know about the chicken-door . . .

Also, we'll be attracting their attention in the front—when you're ready to go we'll try to parley with them from up above. And if they think we're fool enough to trust them, that'll tempt them to delay, maybe.'

'Parley?'

'That's right. They can't leave us alive, but if they can get in without making too much noise . . . and my French is bad enough to confuse them . . . You go out there—a hundred yards down the ditch should be far enough—and then run like hell to Madame Peyrony's—get the police.'

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Roche's spirits lifted. 'Yes—'

'But there's something else, then—' Audley offered him the pistol '—take it... and you'll need the torch too . . . just shift the table in front of me, and I'll take Lexy—that'll maybe give us some protection, if the worst comes to the worst. . . the something else is that you've got to come back, Roche.'

'What?'

'To distract them. Because we'll be running out of time by then ... So you come back as close as you can, and make a noise—flash the torch, fire the gun, shout 'A moi, la Legion!'—

whatever you like, just so you distract them. You've got to win us time, man!'

With a terrible bleak self-knowledge, Roche knew that he wasn't quite done with treachery. Maybe here, with Lexy in his arms, and no choice . . . but not out there, in safety.

'Why don't you go?' He didn't want to put himself to the test. 'You know the way.'

The torch and the pistol were both thrust at him. 'Don't argue

—a hundred yards' crawl, and then turn left—and run like hell. . . you can't miss it, as the Irishman said.' Audley paused. 'Besides which, I can't get through the chicken-door

—I'm too big. I was going to send you anyway, if you must know.' Then he grunted half-derisively. 'Don't argue, man—

it's the only chance we've got. Go on—be a soldier this one more time, and we'll call it quits.'

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