And now Vandam was sending Elene in against the same man.
A corporal came in with an order. Vandam read it with mounting disbelief.
All departments were to extract from their files those papers which might be dangerous in enemy hands, and burn them. Just about anything in the files of an intelligence section might be dangerous in enemy hands. We might as well bum the whole damn lot, Vandam thought. And how would departments operate afterward? Clearly the brass thought the departments would not be operating at an for very much longer. Of course it was a precaution, but it was a very drastic one: they would not destroy the accumulated results of years of work unless they thought there was a very strong chance indeed of the Germans taking Egypt. It's going to pieces, he thought; it's falling apart.
It was unthinkable. Vandam had given three years of his life to the defense of Egypt. Thousands of men had died in the desert. After all that, was it possible that we could lose? Actually give up, and turn and run away? It did not bear contemplating.
He called Jakes in and watched him read the order. Jake& just nodded, as if he had been expecting it. Vandam said: 'Bit drastic, isn't it?'
'It's rather like what's been happening in the desert, sir,' Jakes replied.
'We establish huge supply dumps at enormous cost, then as we retreat we blow them up to keep them out of enemy hands.'
Vandam nodded. 'All right, you'd better get on with it. Try and play it down a bit, for the sake of morale-you know, brass getting the wind up unnecessarily, that sort of thing.,'
'Yes, sir. Well have the bonfire in the yard at the back, shall we?'
'Yes. Find an old dustbin and poke holes in its bottom. Make sure the stuff burns up properly.'
'What about your own files?'
'I'll go through them now.'
'Very good, sir.' Jakes went out.
Vandam opened his file drawer and began to sort through his papers.
Countless times over the last three years he had thought: I don't need to remember that, I can always look it up. There were names and addresses, security reports on individuals, details of codes, systems of communication of orders, case notes and a little file of jottings about Alex Wolff. Jakes brought in a big cardboard box with 'Lipton's Tea' printed on its side, and Vandam began to dump papers into it, thinking: This is what it is like to be the losers.
The box was half full when Vandam's corporal opened the door and said:
'Major Smith to see you, sir.'
'Send him in.' Vandam did not know a Major Smith. The major was a small, thin man in his forties with bulbous blue eyes and an air of being rather pleased with himself. He shook hands and said:
'Sandy Smith, S.I.S.'
Vandam said: 'What can I do for the Secret Intelligence Service?'
'I'm sort of the liaison man between S.I.S. and the General Staff,' Smith explained. 'You made an inquiry about a book called Rebecca .
'Yes.,'
'The answer got routed through us.' Smith produced a piece of paper with a flourish.
Vandam read the message. The S.I.S. Head of Station in Portugal bad followed up the query about Rebecca by sending one of his men to visit all the English -language bookshops in the country. In the holiday area of Estoril he had found a bookseller who recalled selling his entire stock--six copies of Rebecca to one woman. On further investigation the woman had turned out to be the wife of the German military attache in Lisbon.
Vandam said: 'This confirms something I suspected. Thank you for taking the trouble to bring it over.'
'No trouble,' Smith said. 'I'm over here every morning anyway Glad to be able to help.' He went out.
Vandam reflected on the news while he went on with his work. There was only one plausible explanation of the fact that the book had found its way from Estoril to the Sahara. Undoubtedly it was the basis of a code and, unless there were two successful German spies in Cairo, it was Alex Wolff who was using that code the information would be useful, sooner or later. It was a pity the key to the code had not been captured along with the book and the decrypt. That thought reminded him of the importance of burning his secret papers, and he determined to be more ruthless about what he destroyed.
At the end he considered his files on pay and promotion of subordinates, and decided to burn those too since they might help enemy interrogation teams fix their priorities. The cardboard box was full. He hefted it on to his shoulder and went outside.
Jakes had the fire going in a rusty steel water tank propped up on bricks. A corporal was feeding papers to the flames. Vandam dumped his box and watched the blaze for a while. It reminded him of Guy Fawkes Night in England, fireworks and baked potatoes and the burning effigy of a seventeenth century traitor. Charred scraps of paper floated up on a pillar of hot air. Vandam turned away.
He wanted to think, so be decided to walk. He left GHQ and headed downtown. His cheek was hurting. He thought he should welcome the pain, for it was supposed to be a sign of healing. He was growing a beard to cover the wound so that be would look a little less unsightly when the dressing came off - Every day he enjoyed not having to shave in the morning. He thought of Elene, and remembered her with her back arched and perspiration glistening on her naked breasts. He had been shocked by what had happened after he bad kissed her-shocked, but thrilled. It had been a night of firsts for him: first time he had made love anywhere other than on a bed, first time he had seen a woman have a climax like a man's, first time sex had been a mutual indulgence rather than the imposition of his will on a more or less reluctant woman. It was, of course, a disaster that he and Elene had fallen so joyfully in love. His parents, his friends and the Army would be aghast at the idea of his marrying a wog. His mother would also feel bound to explain why the Jews were wrong to reject Jesus. Vandam decided not to worry over all that. He and Elene might be dead within a few days. We'll bask in the sunshine while it lasts, he thought,
