I smiled at her, hoping that it didn’t look like too much of a death’s head grimace.
‘I’ll look you up again in another nine years. You’ll only be thirty-four.’
She pursed her lips. Shook her head. She didn’t want to meet my eye either. She never made the same mistake twice, did she? I indicated Laika, and tried to lighten the air of doom that suddenly seemed to have enveloped us.
‘Think she’s more my type?’
All Alison did was stand up, shake her head again and walk inside. Laika turned on cue and smiled at me, but I was distracted by another woman sliding into Alison’s seat whilst it was still warm.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘My name’s Stephanie. You can call me Steve.’
‘I had a friend called that, not so long ago.’
‘Still have. Did I just miss something?’
‘No. I did. Twice, with nine years in between. Would you be surprised to learn I’ve been very stupid?’
‘Why don’t you tell old Stevie about it?’
I felt all the tension flowing out of me. Laika was playing with the water again. I said, ‘Can I tell you upstairs? I have a pocket full of money, and nothing to do with it except give it to you.’
‘David was right.’
She stood again, and stretched. Her jeans and shirt stuck to her like a second skin.
‘What about?’
‘He said you were my kind.’
‘What kind is that?’
‘The complicated and uncommonly generous kind.’
By then we were climbing the stairs to her room. Yassine passed us halfway up, gave us a beaming smile and observed, ‘This time you pay, OK, Charlie? The other night was just a welcome-back present.’
‘Of course, David.’
‘Unless you wanna come in with me on the business? Twenny per cent. Then the girls come for free – just like the Blue Kettle?’
‘I’ll think about it, OK?’
Steve hooked her arm through mine, and whispered, ‘Wrong actually. A girl from America never comes for free.’
I liked the pun, and told her, ‘I know. I learned that a couple of months ago. I’ll tell you about it one day.’
Chapter Ten
On His Blindness
The next time I woke up in my hut Pete was standing near one of the windows smoking a narrow cheroot. His old pack was on one of the beds, and he looked immaculate, as usual, in a tropical civvy suit.
‘I wish you wouldn’t do that,’ I told him. ‘I thought I’d locked the door.’
‘You had. I picked it. Can I stay for a couple of days?’
‘I don’t see why not, if it’s OK with the RAF.’
‘Is OK. They see me as an old boy. You English are big on the old boy thing, aren’t you?’ He hadn’t expected an answer.
‘What are you doing over here?’
‘Some deals. Since the Greeks started to have a go at you half the wide boys in Europe turned up to make their deals here.’
‘Why here?’
‘Police got their hands full of terrorists, haven’t they? No time to bother the rest.’
It made sense. Of a kind. I yawned, and asked him, ‘What time is it?’
‘Past six. You better get up. There’s something going on. Jeeps dashing around.’
Pat clattered up the step half an hour later. He and Pete gave each other the eye.
‘Pat, Pete,’ I told them, and, ‘Pete, Pat.’
‘We met,’ Tobin said. ‘About a year ago. I think it was in Dresden.’
‘Yes. Nice to see you again.’ Pete.
‘You gonna be around long?’
‘Few days.’
‘Maybe we can catch a drink?’
They had been talking as if I wasn’t there. All I was wondering was how they had both managed to meet up in the Soviet Zone last year. Pat turned back to me anyway. He said, ‘We got a little job on. How long before you can be ready to move?’
‘I’m ready now.’
‘Good, let’s go.’
There was a Land Rover outside the door. Captain Collins was in the passenger seat. The back seats had been modified so that one turned in to face the vehicle within arm’s reach of an old 1155/4 aircraft radio rig, which appeared to have had an aircraft compass and a D/F loop bracketed on top. Pat sent me back for my side arm and old flying jacket. He had a sheepskin-lined jerkin that must have once graced a shepherd, and Collins had a duffle coat. Between us we looked like refugees from Popski’s Private Army. If you don’t know what that was you’d better ask one of the old guys.
From behind the wheel Pat told me, ‘It’s gonna be chilly when we get high. Get the radio fired up, will ya? We’re goin’ to need it.’
‘We lost an AOP a couple of hours ago,’ Collins said. ‘It was over the Troodos at first light.’
An AOP was a little Auster Army Observation plane – flown by the Army Air Corps. The RAF tended to be a bit snotty about the AAC, but generally speaking they were fine pilots. The Auster had a high wing, and a single engine in front of the pilot. The pilot and his observer/radio operator had glass all around them, giving them a fine view of the surrounding land, and what was on or in it. The army used them as artillery spotters, and to deliver essentials to patrols out in the field. Old Man Halton had a civilian version of his very own. They also flew around with loudspeakers telling the insurgents not to be such naughty little boys: I don’t know who thought that one up. I had nothing against the type yet. Nothing I could put my finger on.
My radios came in quickly. They had their own power source – two big glass accumulator batteries, which looked
