He said, ‘They were in their lorry.’
James sighed, and asked Kilduff, ‘Are you sitting comfortably?’
The American looked wary, but he nodded. James said, ‘Then we’ll begin. Were you going to kidnap Charlie again, or simply kill him this time?’
‘He’s wanted.’
‘By whom?’
‘I don’t know; the Brits anyway.’
‘An Intelligence Officer named David Clifford is pulling the strings, isn’t he?’
‘You mean the tricky bastard from Tempsford? No; he’s fucking well not. No, sir. If he hadn’t interfered we would have kept Charlie first time round: I would have let you shoot that cat-house Colonel you found.’
‘Try me again, Lieutenant. What’s so important about Charlie that you follow him around with body bags?’
‘. . . and I’ll tell you again. The Brits want him stopped.’
‘Stopped from what?’
‘Doing whatever he’s doing.’
‘. . . and what is he doing?’
‘He thinks he’s chasing around the War Zone looking for some female who’s run off with some doctors.’
‘And isn’t he?’
‘Search me, bud. If that’s not enough reason to off him, then he must be doing something else: something he hasn’t told us about.’
Either Kilduff was never too bright, or he was in shock. But he couldn’t take it back once he’d said it. There was a silence, but I’d hardly call it golden. That was my cue: it was time to take part in the conversation.
I said, ‘Off him. Does that mean . . .?’
‘Yes.’ That was Les. He didn’t want to be left out, either. ‘It means that this time you can forget about that gentlemanly You’re under arrest crap: the bastard was going to take you round the corner and slit your throat for you.’
It was very odd. I actually broke out in a sweat, like the other Bassett.
The smashed-up house next door still had a cellar with a heavy wooden door in the pavement outside. Les dragged the Private to it, whilst James and I manoeuvred Kilduff. Kilduff swore a lot. When I held the lantern over the gaping door the first thing I saw was the other soldier’s body sprawled at the foot of the ladder. Somebody had used their initiative. Both the others went in on top of it with sibilant thumps that were somehow more sinister for their lack of drama. Les said that there was no other entrance. He must have checked up when I wasn’t looking. Back in the Bürgermeister’s house there was a damp spot in front of the stove, which rapidly dried.
I said, ‘We’ll have to decide what to do with them. If their orders to kill me are legitimate – I mean legal – they haven’t technically done anything wrong. If they’re not they should be arrested and court-martialled.’
Les said, ‘You’re beginning to sound like a nance, Charlie.’
‘Leave it out, Les.’
James showed us a rare sad smile. He said, ‘Sorry, chaps: not your business . . .’
I said, ‘I . . .’
And he cut me off with, ‘I mean it, Charlie. This is where I pull rank. Not . . . your . . . business. OK?’
‘Thank God for that, sir,’ Les told him. ‘I thought that you were losing your touch.’
Then James asked me, ‘Would you mind getting the radio in here from Kate, Charlie, and rigging it up? I might as well make my daily report early. At least for the civilians here, the war is over, thank God.’ I was sure that they just wanted me out of the way.
The settee that Les had slept on was big enough for five. After I had rigged the radio for them, running the aerial to an outside drainpipe, I dozed there. Les and James muttered to one another across James’s little notebook, and then James hunched over the set and punched out his tunes for at least an hour. His Morse hand was far better than the airmen’s I’d trained. He was quick and clear. He used his one-time code, so it was all meaningless crap as far as I was concerned. Les left him to it, and took the other end of the settee: soon he was snoring. His Sten was in his lap, and a spare mag on the arm alongside him. I took care not to move snappily. Finally James yawned, and stopped rattling the Morse key. He asked me, ‘Have you realized yet that the people here are two days from beginning to starve? If we don’t get the basics up here, malnutrition, typhoid and cholera will do in four months what your lot couldn’t in six years.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Push the German race to the edge of extinction.’
This was too much to get around that early in the morning. I told him, ‘I’m not sure that I agree with that. I mean, I’m not sure that I want that to happen.’
‘Nor do I, Charlie, which is why I’m in the right job. Unless there’s a problem, half a dozen lorries will roll in here tomorrow with enough to keep everyone going for the best part of a week. They will be headed up by a Quartermaster Sergeant who will take up residence, probably with the prettiest girl in the place. After that it will all be routine. The Bürgermeister will still be the Bürgermeister. Some of the policemen who ran away
