David shook his head wearily. ‘I don’t know what notions I’ve got any more.’
‘It’s like that, bein’ on the run. Nae anchor, nae certainty about anything, nothing familiar. Sometimes you cling to people, take pleasure when you get the chance. It’s no’ a great way to live.’
‘No. That’s true enough.’
Ben looked at him seriously. ‘That’s why I’m glad I’m a Marxist. I’ve got something bigger than me, a truth to hold on to.’
‘A belief, at least.’
‘If you like.’
David said, ‘All I want’s an end to this savagery.’
‘Don’t we all?’ Ben stood up. ‘Anyway, I’m away for a piss, then I’ll try and get some sleep.’
David couldn’t get to sleep again. The terrible events of the day before kept spinning round in his mind. A few feet away, Ben had begun to snore lightly. His confession had been a total surprise. David thought, nothing in the world is how I believed it was, none of the safe certainties were true, ever.
After a while he padded over to the door in his stockinged feet and opened it gently. Outside, a young man in the ubiquitous khaki uniform with the Union Jack on the breast sat on a chair, rifle over his knees, half-asleep. He blinked, sat up straight and looked at David.
‘I need the toilet,’ David said quietly.
The guard jerked his head to the right. ‘Second door down.’
‘Thanks.’
This corridor looked modern, plasterboard walls, perhaps added to the house recently. David went to the door the guard had indicated. The lavatory looked as though it was a recent addition, too, just a little windowless cupboard room with a toilet and washbasin. As he went in he heard male voices murmuring. They seemed to be coming from low down, by his feet. He knelt and bent his ear to where the toilet pipe joined the wall and found he could make out the voices. There was some sort of conference going on, perhaps in the next room. There was a mixture of accents, arguing in loud tones. David made out the voice of the captain who had brought them. ‘It’s got too dangerous. We have to abort the mission. We tell the Americans it’s too risky.’
‘Then what happens to Muncaster and the others?’ A Liverpudlian accent.
‘I still say we could get this secret of Muncaster’s out of him ourselves,’ said a languid upper-class drawl. ‘Might be useful, whatever it is; if Germany collapses and Britain becomes properly independent again, we’ll be doing our own weapons research.’
The captain again: ‘Don’t be so bloody silly, Brendan. That would really piss the Yanks off. We’re going to need them now more than ever.’
‘What do we do with them, then, shoot them?’
The captain raised his voice: ‘Those people have risked their lives to get Muncaster here. We can absorb them within the organization. But Muncaster – given his mental state – I don’t know.’
‘If the decision’s to get rid of him, we might as well get what he knows out of him first,’ the man called Brendan retorted.
‘How can you even talk about it?’ The Liverpudlian accent. ‘An innocent man?’
‘A potentially dangerous man—’
The Liverpudlian: ‘Look, the Germans don’t know anything about the pickup.’
‘And if we go ahead and they’re caught . . .’
A new voice, cold and flat: ‘They’ve got suicide pills. Except for Muncaster—’
‘Well, we know the options.’ The Captain spoke with a touch of weariness. ‘We’re not going to agree. The ultimate decision is out of our hands. The briefing meeting’s at half past six tomorrow, so I suggest we get some rest, but think over the options carefully. There’ll have to be a decision first thing, there’s going to be a hell of a lot to decide over the next few days, with Hitler’s death announced.’
David heard murmurs, chairs scraping, a laugh, a door slamming. Then nothing. He stayed crouched over by the toilet, his fist in his mouth, trying to contain his rage, his eyes full of tears. They were pawns, just pawns. But then he thought, it was war and they were soldiers, volunteers. But not Frank.
There was a sharp rap at the door. The guard’s voice, loud. ‘You all right in there?’
David heaved himself to his feet, went and opened the door. The guard looked suspicious for a moment, then sympathetic. ‘Blimey, you look rough.’
‘Yes. Constipated. Not really eaten properly recently.’
He went back to the room. Ben and Frank were still asleep. David thought of waking Ben and telling him what he had overheard, but Frank might wake as well and he didn’t know how he would react. He would wait until the morning. He lay back down on his camp bed, shaking with anger. He knew he wouldn’t sleep now.
At shortly before seven, by his watch, David heard people moving in the corridors outside. It was beginning to get light, though with the heavy curtains drawn the room was still dark. Frank and Ben were still asleep. David got up, stretched, then padded over to the window. The meeting to decide their fate would be going on now. He parted the heavy curtains and looked out.
The beauty of the scene outside made him catch his breath. Wide lawns stippled with frost dropped away to a reed-fringed lake with still, clear waters where ducks swam, leaving a broad wake behind them. A red sun was just clearing the trees, and there were fragments of pink-tinged cloud in the blue sky. Beyond the lake, more lawns rose towards thick woodland, a mixture of trees, some with bare branches, others evergreens. The impact of the sharp colours was almost physical after the last few days in the smog.
Behind him he heard Ben stir. Ben went to look at Frank, then came over to stand beside David. He looked at the view and whistled. ‘That’s somethin’, is it no’?’
‘Where are we?’
There was a sharp knock at the door. As David and Ben turned, Barry, the Welshman they had met last night, came in. He was tired-looking, unshaven. To David’s astonishment, he was followed by two young housemaids in uniform, black skirts and blouses, white pinafores and caps, each carrying a large tray loaded with food.
Barry nodded. ‘’Morning.’ He looked at Ben. ‘You need to get Dr Muncaster awake. Have some breakfast and a quick wash and shave, then we need you downstairs. Spruce yourselves up a bit, there’s some shaving stuff in the toilet up the hall.’ He went over to Frank and looked down at him. ‘Will he be all right to answer some questions?’
‘Leave him,’ Ben said sharply. ‘I’ll get him up. He’ll be fine. We’d better be with him, though, or he’ll get scared.’
Barry nodded. ‘All right.’
‘What d’ye want to ask him?’
The man looked at them seriously. ‘It won’t be me, mate. Some of the bigwigs have been talking about the next step for you people. You’ll be talking to them. Come on now, girls, leave those trays.’
After the maids and Barry left the room there was silence for a moment, then David said, quietly, ‘Don’t wake Frank just yet. Listen, I found something out last night. You should know.’
As Ben listened his face darkened and he clenched his fists. ‘Bastards,’ he breathed. ‘You mean they might try to force this secret out of him for themselves, after what he was promised, or even fuckin’ kill him? What, take him out and shoot him on that terrace?’
‘Keep your voice down. I don’t know. But there’s nothing we can do, we’re too closely guarded.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Except make sure we stay right by Frank, and if it looks as though they’re going down that road, give him one of these.’ He took the cyanide pill from his pocket and held it out. ‘Did you transfer yours when you changed into your uniform?’
‘Aye. ’Course I did.’ He stared at David. ‘If we do that, we’ll really be in the shit.’