somehow.
'Won't he offer anything?'
'Best I could do was four hundred.'
'Four hundred! Why everyone knows that an Omega's worth at least two thousand.'
'I'm afraid that's a story, sir. He, well, he seems suspicious. That it's not an Omega.'
'He's out of his mind. Of course it's an Omega.'
'I'm sorry, sir,' said the King, stiffening slightly. 'I'm only reporting . . .'
'My fault, Corporal. I didn't mean to pick on you. These yellow bastards are all the same.' Now what do I do? Prouty asked himself. If I don't sell it through the King we won't sell it at all, and the unit needs the money and all our work will be for nothing. What do I do?
Prouty thought a minute, then said, 'See what you can do, Corporal. I couldn't take less than twelve hundred. I just couldn't.'
'Well, sir. I don't think I can do much, but I'll try.'
'There's a good fellow. I'm relying on you. I wouldn't let it go so low, but well, food's been so short. You know how it is.'
'Yes, sir,' said the King politely. 'I'll try, but I'm afraid I can't push him up much. He says the Chinese aren't buying like they used to. But I'll do what I can.'
Grey had marked Torusumi walking the camp and he knew that the time would soon be ripe. He had waited enough and now it was time. He got up and walked out of the hut, adjusting his armband and straightening his hat.
No need for another witness, his word was enough. So he went alone.
His heart thumped pleasantly. It always did when he was preparing an arrest. He crossed the line of huts, walked down the steps onto the main street. This was the long way around. He chose it deliberately, for he knew the King kept guards out whenever he was transacting business. But he knew their positions. And he knew there was one way, through the human mine field.
'Grey!'
He looked over. Colonel Samson was walking over to him.
'Yes, sir?'
'Ah, Grey, nice to see you. How are things going?'
'Fine, thank you, sir,' he replied, surprised to be greeted in such a friendly way. In spite of his eagerness to be away, he was not a little pleased.
Colonel Samson had a special place in Grey's future. Samson was Brass, but real Brass. War Office. And very well connected. A man like that would be more than useful - afterwards. Samson was on the General Staff of the Far East and had some vague but important job - G something or other.
He knew all the generals and talked about how he entertained them socially-out at his 'country seat' in Dorset and how the gentry came shooting, and the garden parties and the hunt balls he organized. A man like Samson could perhaps balance the scales against Grey's lack of record. And his class.
'I wanted to talk to you, Grey,' Samson said. 'I have an idea that you might think worth working on. You know I'm compiling the official history of the campaign. Of course,' he added with good humor, 'it's not the official one yet, but who knows, maybe it will be. General Sonny Wilkinson is historian in charge at the War Office, you know, and I'm sure Sonny'll be interested in an on-the-spot version. I wondered if you would be interested in checking a few facts for me. About your regiment?'
Like to, Grey thought. Like to! I'd give anything to. But not now.
'I'd love to, sir. I'm flattered that you'd think my views'd be worthwhile.
Would tomorrow be all right? After breakfast.'
'Oh,' said Samson, 'I had hoped we could talk a little now. Well, perhaps another day. I'll let you know . . .'
And Grey knew instinctively that if it wasn't now, it was never. Samson had never said much to him before. Perhaps, he thought desperately, perhaps I can give him enough to start him off and I can still catch them.
Deals took hours sometimes. Worth the risk!
'Be glad to now, if you wish, sir. But not too long, if you don't mind. I've a little headache. A few minutes if you don't mind.'
'Good.' Colonel Samson was very happy. He took Grey's arm and led him back towards his hut. 'You know, Grey, your regiment was one of my favorites. Did an excellent job. You got a mention in dispatches, didn't you?
At Kota Bharu?'
'No, sir.' By God, I should have though. 'There was no time to send in requests for decorations. Not that I was entitled to one any more than anyone.' He meant it. Lot of the men deserved VC's and they would never get so much as a mention. Not now.
'You never can tell, Grey,' said Samson. 'Perhaps after the war we can rehash a lot of things.'
He sat Grey down. 'Now, just what was the state of the battle lines when you arrived in Singapore?'
'I regret to tell my friend,' Peter Marlowe said for the King, 'that the miserable owner of this watch laughed at me. He told me that the very least he would take was twenty-six hundred dollars. I am even ashamed to tell it to thee, but because thou art my friend, of necessity I must ten it.'
Torusumi was obviously chagrined. Through Peter Marlowe, they talked about the weather and the lack of food, and Torusumi showed them a creased and battered photo of his wife and three children and told them a little about his life in his village just outside Seoul and how he earned his living as a farmer, even though he had a minor university degree, and how he hated war. He told them how he himself hated the Japanese, how all the Koreans
