A New Kind of War

‘Why not?’

Audley thought for a moment, watching the same charade. ‘If they’re going to kill Number 16 ... it doesn’t need to be done here. They can do that perfectly well with him back in the orderly room at Schwartzenburg, with Amos minding his own business, Fred. Even if he let Zeitzler go, to get at Number 16 ... he’s throwing it all away by coming here now, isn’t he? Isn’t he?’

Once again, Clinton had been right: for his years, the boy was very quick. But, because of his years, he still wasn’t quick enough. And now, at the last, Fred needed him to understand fully what was at stake. ‘But what if they didn’t want him dead, David – Number 16? What if all the other things that have “gone wrong”, all the way from Greece, were just to delay us, so that they could get to Number 16 first? But now we’re too close to him, in spite of all they’ve done?’

The boy goggled at him, trying to catch up with insufficient understanding of what the whole race had been about, and failing miserably.

‘We don’t really need Number 16 now, David.’ He had to tell the truth, because there was no time to prevaricate. ‘We never did need him, thanks to his own conscience. And thanks to your old Professor Schmidt, dummy4

too.’

‘Why not?’ Failure to understand only made the boy angry.

‘It’s the Russians who need him. And especially after yesterday –’

‘Yesterday – ?’ Audley frowned at him.

‘All that marvellous German research, David –

remember?’ At the last he couldn’t sweeten the pill.

‘Everything they did was better than what we did, David: better weapons than ours – better guns, better guidance systems, and better radar . . . And their jet-planes years ahead of ours . . . and rockets beyond anything we’d ever imagined? And chemical weapons they didn’t use only because they thought we’d got them too?’ Now he was straying perhaps too far into what Clinton had finally told him, as they had come to the final crunch under Hermann the Liberator’s statue yesterday. So he must stop before he went further. ‘But we dropped that new bomb on Japan two days ago. The Germans didn’t drop it on us, David – ’ Now, also, he had to look away. Because now Amos de Souza had finished his survey, and was advancing towards them.

Audley caught his glance. ‘So . . . they got it wrong – ’

‘The atomic bomb?’

‘They got it wrong.’ There was just time to agree.

‘Because the one man who could have pointed them in dummy4

the right direction wasn’t there to correct them. And the Russians have known that ever since von Mitzlaff joined Schmidt’s group – or even before he did, maybe. Because we got that information out of Russia, David: there was a man in Russia who warned us about Number 16.’ He looked away again, and Amos de Souza was very close now. ‘Only he got the warning out at the cost of his own life, at Osios Konstandinos.

Because you already had a traitor in the Tenth Legion –

’ Time ran out for them also in that second of time ‘ –

Major de Souza – Amos! I didn’t think you were scheduled to join us here? What’s the problem?’

‘I’m not here – at least, not officially, Major Fattorini.’

De Souza stared past him. ‘You’ve got your two men up there, have you, David? Devenish and Hewitt?’

‘Yes, Amos.’ Audley answered quickly. ‘As per your own orders, actually ... So what’s the problem, then?’

De Souza swung on his heel, through a full circle before coming back to Audley. ‘Perhaps no problem, dear boy.’ Then he passed Audley by, to concentrate on Fred. ‘Your rendezvous is in five minutes’ time, major?’

They both knew that perfectly well. ‘Yes, Amos.’

‘Yes.’ The concentration became fiercer: this was a very different Amos de Souza from any of its predecessors. ‘And you’re quite happy about all this – ’

De Souza gestured around him ‘ – here?’

dummy4

‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ But he had to play the game until the last throw of the dice, so he looked at his watch. ‘Five minutes as of now – yes. But you’re not meant to be here, actually. So ... is something wrong, then?’

De Souza looked round again, uneasily, until he reached RSM Levin at his back, standing stiff as a board behind his adjutant, exuding blanket disapproval of everything and everyone. ‘Mr Levin . . . you wanted to get those two men up there under cover, off the road

– so do it, then. They’re lounging around as if they were at a vicarage tea-party!’

‘ Sah.’ The RSM straightened up an inch beyond his usual ramrod self.

‘Let me do that, Amos – ’ Audley moved ahead of the RSM, half-apologetically ‘ – they’re my chaps, after all–’

‘You stand fast, Captain Audley.’ De Souza immobilized Audley. ‘Mr Levin – if you please!’

‘ Sah!’ The RSM stepped out smartly, always as though on parade.

‘Amos – what the hell – ?’ Audley exploded mutinously.

‘Shut up, David.’ De Souza quelled him flatly as he watched the RSM’s progress towards Devenish and