Ayscue and Ross-Donaldson said they would, and Leonard drew Hunter aside.
'Well?'
'Until just now there were two important alternatives as to what was in the mind of… X. Either the thing was some sort of joke, or there was something behind it. Now I remember you telling me once that there was no hard-and-fast division between jokes and being serious, but in a case like-'
'I was joking when I told you that, dear boy. You shouldn't have taken me seriously.'
'Let's go into that another time, if you don't mind. I was going to say that it made sense to take these two alternatives about X in turn. All right, he's joking, or fooling or whatever you want to call it. He wants to cause a stir. Bother the authorities. Get me and Alastair and the Colonel worried. Well, I heard what you said to Venables earlier on about that. You were right and he was wrong. If it was any conceivable sort of joke X would show up to see how it went over, even if there were fifty armed guards round the place. A man who could turn out all those notices and post them round the camp without being discovered would have the wit to bluff his way through the sort of nothing-to-go-on questioning he'd come up against. But he doesn't turn up. So he isn't joking. Or, if you like, the posting of the notices was an end in itself. In other words they weren't really notices at all. They were copies of a manifesto.'
Behind them, they heard Venables do his talking-without-words laugh. He and the Colonel were making for the door. He stopped laughing long enough to say to them,
'You see? A fiasco. The case of the absent pranksters.'
Then he went on laughing and followed the Colonel. Ross-Donaldson and Ayscue were also on the move. Hunter and Leonard went back down the aisle. Leonard turned off the lights. Outdoors again, the two headed back towards the Mess.
'Well, you see where we've got to if I'm right,' pursued Leonard. 'X is making a protest. A protest about what? About the infliction of death on the innocent.'
'I thought it was the infliction of death on anybody that was getting him into a state.'
'All right, on anybody, then. And this is a military unit that exists for combatant purposes, i.e. the infliction of death.'
'Not only that, Brian. The infliction of lots and lots of lovely death. The unusually efficient infliction thereof.'
'You're not shaking me. I don't see why you or anyone else not in the secret shouldn't have got that far. Yes. Correct. So we're dealing with someone who knows what Operation Apollo's about and has become distressed enough at that knowledge to protest in a very eccentric way. Now can you see why I'm frightened?'
'You're wondering what he's going to do next.'
'Wondering pretty hard, yes. If he runs loose with some of the equipment we've got here I can't foresee the consequences. Or rather I can.'
'There's none missing, is there?'
'Not yet,' said Leonard.
'But that wouldn't fit in, would it, if he's against death? He'd be more likely to try to destroy it.'
'That's another danger. But we don't know what he'll do. We can't assume he'll stay logical. If he does, his classic course would be to let the enemy know what he knows. Which gives me the equivalent of two spies to take care of instead of one.'
'Mm. I suppose X can't be your original spy. Calling attention to himself like this. He couldn't be sure you wouldn't trace the typewriter he did the notice on.'
'Not quite.' Leonard looked gloomy. 'I've established three facts. It isn't any of the machines officially in the camp. There are scores of thousands of this particular kind in the country. And none was sold to a stranger by any of the shops in the town over the relevant period. X must have gone farther afield. I can't see myself ever finding out any more that way.'
'Really?'
They walked into the cobbled hall of the Mess. The Colonel's voice was audible from the ante-room, calling for drink.
'Would you like to come up to my room for a bit?' said Leonard. 'There's some time to go before dinner.'
'Fine, yes.'
Deering was in Leonard's room, standing by the window smoking. He glanced over his shoulder casually as the door opened, then came to what he seemed to think was attention at the sight of Hunter.
'Evening, sir.'
'Good evening, Deering. I shan't be wanting you now.'
'I just came along on the off-chance you might need me for something.'
'Thank you, but, as I said, there isn't anything.'
'Okay, then. Anybody turn up at that meeting?'
'Nobody to speak of, no.'
'Bloody fool.'
'Who are you talking about, Deering?'
