now, I’d guess.’

The circling planes were only a drone, but they were still out there, higher up, yet not far away. And suddenly Fred knew why.

Click-click-click! Audley answered. ‘Right, Fred?’

‘The planes will be coming back as we close in, I take it? To drown our approach-sound?’ Amos de Souza had almost said as much, he remembered now. ‘Spot-on, major! An old trick – ’

‘They’ll be awake, of course.’

‘Oh, sure. And tired and irritable too, because Jake Austin’s been night-flying over them for the last week. So . . . awake, but not suspicious, supposedly.’ Audley spoke lightly. ‘An old trick ... an old British Army trick . . . first witnessed by Brigadier Clinton’s father in 1918 – his father being a lance-corporal at the time, according to Amos . . . night-flying noise, to conceal the real noise of hundreds of British tanks starting up outside Villers-Bretonneaux, near Amiens, on the night of August 7th/ 8th, 1918.’

He sniffed. ‘Personally . . . it’s all bloody stupid, if you ask me.’

For a moment the memory of Brigadier Clinton, in the ruins of the Osios Konstandinos monastery, almost diverted Fred from his sudden doubts. But not quite. ‘You don’t like it, David?’

For a moment he could feel Audley staring at him in the darkness, dummy4

undecided, but weakening. ‘Spot-on again, major – if you must know . . . yes. I don’t think I like it.’

‘Why not?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Audley couldn’t go back now. ‘Too-bloody complicated by half, if you ask me . . . even apart from our past debacles . . . one of which you witnessed, as I recall, major – back in Greece?’

Fred remembered Osios Konstandinos all too well. ‘So what do we do, David?’

There was silence for a moment. ‘We obey orders, like always.

But ... if you’ll watch my back tonight, Fred, then I’ll try to watch yours – right?’

4

Click-click . . . click-click: the sound came out of the darkness ahead of them again, faint but clear against the distant drone of the night-flying aircraft.

‘That’ll be Devenish at A2 – good for old Jacko!’ Audley spoke cheerfully. ‘With Sergeant Devenish looking after us now we shalln’t come to any harm . . . Has it occurred to you, Fred, to wonder why we’ve been for this unpleasant and unnecessary perambulation tonight?’

‘It did cross my mind.’ Perambulation! ‘But shouldn’t we be clicking back, David?’

‘In good time. It was bloody Caesar Augustus’s idea . . . although dummy4

the Crocodile probably put him up to it – or maybe the RSM. They all conspire to make me do everything the hard way. If I had a nice German girlfriend they’d make me sleep with her in a hammock, I suspect.’

‘Why do they do that?’ Not that the question required an answer, thought Fred.

‘Oh ... to keep me “up to the mark”, Caesar Augustus says. So tonight was my bit of night map-reading, apparently – they knew I’d be bloody lost without Devenish . . . What they didn’t know was that Amos is a decent sort –hah!’ Audley chuckled. ‘He gave me the A-line, which follows the old Roman ditch. And even I couldn’t lose that, he reckoned.’

It might have been decency. But it might also be that the contents of the bag were too important to be lost, decided Fred.

Click-click

‘The truth is, they just don’t like cavalrymen,’ continued Audley innocently.

‘Especially cavalrymen who carry umbrellas?’

‘Ah ... I try not to let them see my brolly, actually. But it is a fine old cavalry tradition, you know – Salamanca and Waterloo . . . I’m just sorry you’ve had to suffer with me, is what I mean. They’ve got nothing against sappers, I’m sure – Is that you, Jacko?’

‘Sir.’ The answer was midway between a growl and a grunt, warning them that the sergeant had noted Audley’s failure to click his proper recognition signal.

‘Don’t be so bad-tempered, Jacko.’ For his part, Audley was quite dummy4

unabashed by this disapproval. ‘We’re the ones who should be pissed off, having had to blunder about in the rain quite unnecessarily, just because Caesar Augustus –’

‘Sir!’ Devenish interrupted his officer loudly. ‘Have you brought Major Fattorini with you?’

‘What?’ Audley’s tone was incredulous. ‘For Christ’s sake, Jacko!

Who the hell d’you think I’ve got? Field Marshal Montgomery? Or Caesar . . .’

‘Sir!’ Devenish’s voice changed. ‘Captain Audley is here with Major Fattorini, sir!’

‘Thank you, sergeant.’ Colonel Colbourne spoke out of the further darkness, beyond Devenish. ‘I heard.’

‘Oh b-b-bugger!’ whispered Audley. ‘Hullo there, sir . . .’

‘Captain Audley.’ The slight weariness in the Colonel’s voice was more eloquent than anger. ‘You are two minutes late.’

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