'Can it be caused by what happens to you? You know, the kind of life you have?'
'That's probably one of the theories.'
'She told me last night she thought it might be, if she turned out to have it, perhaps it was because of her life before she met James, and he came along just too late. Wouldn't that be awful?'
Her eyes filled with tears. Hunter put his arm round her.
'No more awful than what we know has happened,' he said.
'Why did it have to happen to her?'
'It happens to bad people too. It's pure luck of the draw, love.'
'What sort of chance do you think she's got?'
'Oh, pretty good, I should say, where she's got it. They can…'
'Yes. Can you stay to lunch?'
'I'd like to, but I'll have to go back to this absurd exercise they're having. It'll be finished by this evening. I'll come over then if I can.'
'Do try. Nobody else is coming.'
They had another drink, in almost total silence, and then Hunter said he must go. With Lucy's permission he refilled most of his water-container from a nearby bottle and topped it up with a little water. He was going to turn down her offer of an unopened half-bottle in addition when he found that jettisoning his luncheon rations-sandwiches of smoked salmon and of chicken liver pate- made just the right-shaped space in his haversack. On his way out he stopped at the foot of the stairs and listened. He could hear nothing.
When he was still three or four miles short of the assembly point on his way back, a monstrous vibrating clamor filled his ears and seemed to make his jeep tremble in sympathy. He looked out and up and saw that one of the helicopters was matching his speed and course at treetop height. After half a minute or so, its crew presumably satisfied by a close inspection of the white cross painted on the hood-an emblem common to all vehicles on the exercise- the machine sheered off.
A little later, Hunter caught up with a file of men in battle order trudging ill-naturedly along the side of the road. He pulled up alongside the NCO at their head.
'What's going on, Sergeant?'
'Don't know, sir. Sergeant-major got a message over the walkie-talkie… Okay, lads, take it easy a minute.'
Muttering, the men sat down on the verge or leaned against the grassy bank beyond it. It was clear that they had done a lot of swearing up until the moment of Hunter's arrival, and would do more as soon as he was gone, at the latest.
'But what's it all about?'
'Don't know, sir. We've got a rendezvous fixed somewhere in this wood along here. The sergeant- major said something about carrying out a sweep of the area. Looks like it'll take us all day, sir.'
'Whose orders are these?'
'Captain Leonard's, sir.'
The muttering swelled. Phrases became distinguishable.
'I see. Well, I'll make sure there's a hot meal laid on for everybody as soon as they get back to camp.'
'Thanks very much, sir.'
As Hunter drove on, his eyes, which had become rather glazed over in the preceding hour or two, brightened again. When he had put a few bends between himself and the party on foot, he stopped again and drank from his water-container. At the junction with the track that led up to the assembly point he was waved down by a corporal standing on the verge.
'You'd better not go all the way up, sir. They're shooting one of those things off in a minute. Everybody who's not officially allowed in the bunker has got to keep this side of the ridge.'
'Thank you, I'll manage.'
Hunter took the jeep another couple of hundred yards until he reached a point where, by engaging four-wheel drive, he was able to move it off the track. He got out and clambered up between bushes to the lip of the depression in which the bunker lay. It was in fact almost immediately below him and quite near enough for him to make out Venables and Isaacs standing together at one end. The tank Hunter had noticed earlier was to be seen at the far end of the valley, presumably unoccupied.
In the bunker, matters seemed to be coming to a head. An officer stood on the fire-step in the aiming position. O'Neill appeared and took up a position beside him. Everybody became quite still. After some consideration, Hunter dropped down behind a hummock and peered over the top of it. A moment later he heard O'Neill's voice, high-pitched and clear.
'Fire.'
There was the sharp knocking bang of an ordinary rifle cartridge, and then what might almost have been a small piece of the sun came into being across the valley where the tank was. During the instant it was there, everything in that direction went vague and overcast. A bolster of warmish air struck Hunter quite hard in the face. Finally a very low-pitched tearing noise, like a short extract from a peal of thunder, pressed against his ears, and a balloon of dark grey smoke expanded rapidly outwards and upwards from the target area.
Voices could be heard from the bunker. The officer who had fired ejected the spent round from the breech of his rifle. O'Neill started lecturing again. Hunter watched the smoke for a minute or two, during which time it grew only slightly thinner. Nothing of any substance seemed about to happen next. After his years of training,
