‘Why not?’
Audley thought for a moment, watching the same charade. ‘If they’re going to kill Number 16 ... it doesn’t need to be done here. They can do that perfectly well with him back in the orderly room at Schwartzenburg, with Amos minding his own business, Fred. Even if he let Zeitzler go, to get at Number 16 ... he’s throwing it all away by coming here now, isn’t he? Isn’t he?’
Once again, Clinton had been right: for his years, the boy was very quick. But, because of his years, he still wasn’t quick enough. And now, at the last, Fred needed him to understand fully what was at stake. ‘But what if they didn’t want him dead, David – Number 16? What if all the other things that have “gone wrong”, all the way from Greece, were just to delay us, so that they could get to Number 16 first? But now we’re too close to him, in spite of all they’ve done?’
The boy goggled at him, trying to catch up with insufficient understanding of what the whole race had been about, and failing miserably.
‘We don’t really need Number 16 now, David.’ He had to tell the truth, because there was no time to prevaricate. ‘We never did need him, thanks to his own conscience. And thanks to your old Professor Schmidt, dummy4
too.’
‘Why not?’ Failure to understand only made the boy angry.
‘It’s the Russians who need him. And especially after yesterday –’
‘Yesterday – ?’ Audley frowned at him.
‘All that marvellous German research, David –
remember?’ At the last he couldn’t sweeten the pill.
‘Everything they did was better than what we did, David: better weapons than ours – better guns, better guidance systems, and better radar . . . And their jet-planes years ahead of ours . . . and rockets beyond anything we’d ever imagined? And chemical weapons they didn’t use only because they thought we’d got them too?’ Now he was straying perhaps too far into what Clinton had finally told him, as they had come to the final crunch under Hermann the Liberator’s statue yesterday. So he must stop before he went further. ‘But we dropped that new bomb on Japan two days ago. The Germans didn’t drop it on us, David – ’ Now, also, he had to look away. Because now Amos de Souza had finished his survey, and was advancing towards them.
Audley caught his glance. ‘So . . . they got it wrong – ’
‘The atomic bomb?’
‘They got it wrong.’ There was just time to agree.
‘Because the one man who could have pointed them in dummy4
the right direction wasn’t there to correct them. And the Russians have known that ever since von Mitzlaff joined Schmidt’s group – or even before he did, maybe. Because we got that information out of Russia, David: there was a man in Russia who warned us about Number 16.’ He looked away again, and Amos de Souza was very close now. ‘Only he got the warning out at the cost of his own life, at Osios Konstandinos.
Because you already had a traitor in the Tenth Legion –
’ Time ran out for them also in that second of time ‘ –
Major de Souza – Amos! I didn’t think you were scheduled to join us here? What’s the problem?’
‘I’m not here – at least, not officially, Major Fattorini.’
De Souza stared past him. ‘You’ve got your two men up there, have you, David? Devenish and Hewitt?’
‘Yes, Amos.’ Audley answered quickly. ‘As per your own orders, actually ... So what’s the problem, then?’
De Souza swung on his heel, through a full circle before coming back to Audley. ‘Perhaps no problem, dear boy.’ Then he passed Audley by, to concentrate on Fred. ‘Your rendezvous is in five minutes’ time, major?’
They both knew that perfectly well. ‘Yes, Amos.’
‘Yes.’ The concentration became fiercer: this was a very different Amos de Souza from any of its predecessors. ‘And you’re quite happy about all this – ’
De Souza gestured around him ‘ – here?’
dummy4
‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ But he had to play the game until the last throw of the dice, so he looked at his watch. ‘Five minutes as of now – yes. But you’re not meant to be here, actually. So ... is something wrong, then?’
De Souza looked round again, uneasily, until he reached RSM Levin at his back, standing stiff as a board behind his adjutant, exuding blanket disapproval of everything and everyone. ‘Mr Levin . . . you wanted to get those two men up there under cover, off the road
– so do it, then. They’re lounging around as if they were at a vicarage tea-party!’
‘ Sah.’ The RSM straightened up an inch beyond his usual ramrod self.
‘Let me do that, Amos – ’ Audley moved ahead of the RSM, half-apologetically ‘ – they’re my chaps, after all–’
‘You stand fast, Captain Audley.’ De Souza immobilized Audley. ‘Mr Levin – if you please!’
‘ Sah!’ The RSM stepped out smartly, always as though on parade.
‘Amos – what the hell – ?’ Audley exploded mutinously.
‘Shut up, David.’ De Souza quelled him flatly as he watched the RSM’s progress towards Devenish and Hewitt.
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‘What do you mean, “shut up”?’ Audley only remained quelled for that single moment before erupting again.
‘Your own orders – ’
‘The devil with my own orders!’ snapped de Souza.
‘But if you want an order, then I’ll give you one now: you go down by the end of the lake, where you can see round the rocks, and keep a sharp eye on the woods there. And if you see anything move, you come back and tell me. Understood?’
The boy rolled an eye at Fred, while his right hand massaged his leg nervously on the edge of his webbing holster. ‘W-w-w –’
‘Did you not hear my order, Captain Audley?’ De Souza’s voice had lost its sharpness: now it was menacingly soft.
Fred remembered his own orders. ‘Do as the adjutant says, David.’
Audley seemed to struggle with himself for an instant, then the hand stopped massaging and slapped the leg irritably. ‘Oh . . . shit! Mine not to reason why again!
Okay, okay!’ he swung on his heel, shaking his head and growling to himself as he stamped heavily away, kicking angrily at tufts of grass as he went, like a schoolboy. It was good acting if it was an act, thought Fred. And now he must match it with one of his own.
‘What the blazes are you playing at, Amos?’ In fact, he dummy4
only needed to imagine himself in the real military world to strike the right note of outrage. ‘This is my show, not yours.’
‘Yes.’ De Souza looked around again. ‘This place gives me the shivers, you know. Always has done, and always will.’ He sniffed. ‘Maybe Colbourne’s right – ’
He looked Fred in the eye ‘ – a bad place for honest soldiers, maybe?’
The flesh up Fred’s back crawled with a million tiny insect-feet because of this shared insight. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘My duty, I hope.’ The sardonic glint was back, with the old self-mocking Amos-voice. ‘David was right, of course – I’m disobeying my orders as well as complicating yours and his.’ He turned lazily to watch Audley place-kicking another piece of grass. ‘He often is right, actually. But it does him no good. But . . . he’s a good lad ... maybe.’
‘Maybe?’ The curious emphasis de Souza had placed on the word startled him.
‘Yes.’ De Souza came back to him. ‘Aren’t you happier for my presence, then?’
‘Why should I be happier?’
De Souza nodded. ‘After the night before last?’
‘The night before last?’ He didn’t have to think hard to recall those beastly images. But he had to remember dummy4
who he was supposed to be. ‘We got our man the night before last. And the other side got the wrong one.’