Neil repeated the account of his meeting with the Arab Front leaders. It took him nearly a quarter of an hour to complete. Throughout he felt Broussard’s eyes on him like two points of radium, burning ice-cold and deadly. Le Hir and the legionnaires watched him from the wall, contemptuous, hating, with the laconic hate of trained killers; and Anne-Marie watched him across the table, her face grave, expressionless. While he talked, he worried about her — about why she was here. When he finished, Broussard began to question him about his impressions of the three Arab leaders.
‘What makes you think they were being sincere?’ he asked finally.
Neil hesitated: ‘By their manner. They certainly seemed sincere.’
‘You have little experience of the Arab race, Monsieur Ingleby. Their manner can be very deceptive and they are brilliant liars. Did they give you any positive reason for thinking them sincere?’
Neil paused: ‘Well, Ali La Joconde wept when I mentioned the Casino bombing. He seemed genuinely upset.’
Broussard sunk his mouth in a snarl: ‘You’re not going to stir my sympathies for Ali La Joconde! Those people are not sentimentalists. Did they give you any political reasons for offering a truce?’
Neil thought hard, trying to remember their exact words. At last he said, ‘Boussid told me that the killing had become senseless. He said the struggle was no longer theirs — it was now between the Secret Army and the French High Command. But I think his real reason,’ he added, searching in vain for a safe way of phrasing it, ‘is that he believes the Arab Front may have won.’
A frozen look came over Broussard’s face, his body stiffening visibly, and Neil saw a terrible anguish rising inside the man. Ali La Joconde and his friends had their reasons for a truce. Perhaps even at this moment Broussard believed they were right — that the cause of the Secret Army was already doomed.
He stared at the table for nearly a full minute before fixing Neil again with his grey glare, saying, ‘How much money is this man Pol paying you?’
Neil started. ‘Nothing! Not a penny — except for the trip over.’
Broussard’s eyes narrowed: ‘If you were to work as an intermediary between us and the Arabs you would be running certain risks. You realize that? I assume you would expect some material reward.’
Neil was silent, his heart thumping wildly, realizing how useless it is to pretend that even men of integrity can easily resist an offer of money — at least the chance of finding out how much it is to be. He was on the point of asking Broussard, when the man said, ‘We might be prepared to offer quite a large sum, Monsieur Ingleby — payable in whatever currency you choose.’
‘Does that mean that you agree to Boussid’s offer?’
‘I did not say that. I asked if you were interested in money.’ Something about the way he said it — perhaps the inflexion, the unobtrusive emphasis on the conditional — warned Neil that Broussard was not really concerned with offering him money.
Neil was being tested. He said boldly, ‘I am not interested in money, Colonel. I am interested in saving innocent lives.’
Broussard’s face relaxed just a fraction; he glanced round at Le Hir, then nodded. ‘Monsieur Ingleby, I must discuss this matter with my colleagues before we can take a decision. It is, of course, possible that between them Boussid, Ali La Joconde and this man Pol may be laying us rather a crude trap. They would have to be very naive to think that we would fall into it. However’ — he looked at his watch — ‘if they are serious, we might find room for at least a discussion. You have my authority to arrange with Pol to return to the Casbah tomorrow, when you will tell Boussid and his friends that while the revolt continues we might be prepared, under certain conditions and with certain guarantees, to call off our commandos, if they will call off theirs.’ He turned to Le Hir: ‘Monsieur Ingleby will not be returning to his hotel, Colonel. You will arrange for him to be put up in comfort.’ Le Hir nodded. Broussard looked back at Neil: ‘I apologize for the inconvenience, but for the moment it is better that you do not leave the barricades.’ He stood up, paused, then added, ‘I am glad to find a man who is willing to do more than sell his services for money.’ He nodded round the table and left the room.
The gathering broke up quickly. The two legionnaires came over to Neil and began to hurry him away, without blindfolding him this time. As they reached the door he found himself for a moment pressed against Anne-Marie. He started to speak to her but she turned her head, trying to escape. He whispered: ‘Anne-Marie, what are you doing here? Please, tell me!’
‘Komm, du fauler Hund!’ roared the big legionnaire, throwing him out on to the landing.
She ran after him suddenly, shouting over the banisters, ‘I’ll see you — at Colonel Le Hir’s!’ Then someone called to her and she darted back into the apartment.
CHAPTER 4
During the next four days Neil made five visits to the Casbah. He was taken in each time by the same route as before: one of Le Hir’s men — sometimes the young legionnaire from Dresden, sometimes another of the ‘Gamma Commandos’ — would accompany him from behind the barricades to a rendezvous arranged the day before by telephone with Pol. Here a car would collect him and drive him past the CRS roadblock to the little iron door with the Yale lock. His discussions with the Arab Front were conducted from now on exclusively through Boussid. He did not meet again with Dr. Marouf or Ali La Joconde.
