Monclaire did not give a direct explanation of the command order. He discussed the document with Jeux, and during the discussion he made each detail clear. It was typical of Monclaire’s tact and Jeux was grateful for it.
Monclaire made the numerical deployments understandable when, after glancing at the typed sheets, he said: “Since you are forbidden to detach more than one quarter of your garnson strength, I take it that you have decided to send a single complete company to the Tutana area?”
Jeux nodded eagerly.
“Oui, it is so. I had decided to send a company.”
“My company is available, mon colonel.”
“Ah.”
Jeux hesitated. The hint was clear enough. But he did not want Monclaire to disappear into the desert for several weeks. In his short time as commander at Sadazi, Jeux had come to rely on this smallish, gaunt-faced captain. But on the other hand, Monclaire wanted to go. That was obvious. And his experience in desert operations was probably unequalled. He would make no mistake about protecting the oil line.
So Jeux said reluctantly: “It will be your company, capitaine.”
“Bon… Since section nine gives the operational codes, perhaps I had better take a copy now.”
“Oui, by all means.”
“And since my company must be equipped with radio, I will arrange for twenty-four hour call signs.”
“Quite so—quite so.”
“These map references—I’ll have them confirmed with Algiers immediately. That is what you wish, is it not?”
“Ah, certainly…”
Point by point Monclaire interpreted the document and took over responsibility for it. Finally, it was arranged that his company should leave for the Tutana region at dawn on the following day. They would be based near the village of Tutana itself, which they would reach in four days’ marching time.
Then Monclaire put down the document. He said slowly: “There is one other matter, mon colonel. Two of my legionnaires requested an interview with me this morning. It was granted, of course. They reported an extraordinary series of incidents in a wineshop last night which bear closely on the execution of Legionnaire Tovak.”
Jeux looked up slowly.
“Tovak! A nasty business that. 1 didn’t like it, capitaine!”
“So was the sequel…”
Monclaire repeated the events of the previous evening. Several times, in response to interruptions by Jeux, he had to repeat himself. The colonel had some difficulty in understanding the precise sequence of events. He probably would never have understood them had it not been for Monclaire’s patience and lucidity.
When, at last, the story was completed and comprehended, Jeux said diffidently: “These two legionnaires—might they have exaggerated?”
“I don’t think so. One is English, the other American. While on a recent operation, I discovered that the Englishman once held a commission in the British army. He has a certain cynical indifference to most things, but he’s an excellent soldier and reliable. The American served during the World War in his own army. Like so many others, he joined the Legion out of boredom. He, too, is a good soldier. And he is trustworthy. I accept their story without hesitation.”
“Ah…”
Colonel Jeux made a feeble gesture with his left hand. It fluttered towards the filing cabinet.
“This calls for careful consideration, capitaine. I do not usually drink at this hour, but perhaps a…”
Monclaire smiled and nodded. He did not want brandy. But he made it easier for his commanding officer by indicating that he did.
Jeux reproduced the bottle. He fumbled anxiously in the drawer for the tumbler.
“Dieu… I could swear there were two glasses in here. I put one of them back when I last had a drink yesterday… but one of them seems to be missing…”
Monclaire said quietly: “Let me see, mon colonel.”
Unobserved, he picked the missing tumbler from the desk, emptied the few remaining drops of liquid on the floor. Then, concealing it behind his hand, he pushed it to the back of the drawer. He fumbled for a moment and drew it out again.
“It was there, mon colonel. It had rolled to the far comer.”
“Bon.”
They drank. Monclaire slowly. Jeux quickly. When he had finished, Jeux seemed a little more sure of himself. His sentences were formulated with less hesitation.
He said: “Perhaps I ought to see this woman.”
“I think so. Apart from any damage she may do, we are responsible for her safety while she is in this area. It is rather ominous that immediately after creating a scene in the wineshop she was seen in close conversation with a Touareg. It suggests that the Touaregs may try to make use of her.”
“Make use of her! In what way?”
“You will remember that during the court martial it was revealed that during the World War she was an active resistance worker. She was something of an expert in sabotage and explosives.”
Jeux put down his glass. He stared at Monclaire.
“You really believe… ah, non…”
“I don’t believe anything like that at the moment, mon colonel. But we must keep in mind that a woman such as she could be of great value to the Touaregs now they are suspected of sabotaging the oil line.”
“Oui… it is so. I’ll have her sent back to Oran immediately.”
“But, no doubt, you’ll wish to see her first—as you suggested. It would be better if you could persuade her that it is in her own interest to leave. And perhaps you can convince her that the death of her husband does not make us murderers.”
Jeux nodded dimly.
“Send for her. Bring her to me—and—and perhaps you would care to be at the interview, capitaine.”
Monclaire went to the Hotel Afrique—a grandiloquent title for Sadazi’s shabby and only tourist accommodation.
The black desk clerk gave an insolent shrug.
“Madame Tovak? Yes, she reserved a room.”
“Where is she?”
“She did not come.”
“Did she let you know?”
The man shook his head. Despite the dry heat, he was clad in a formal black western suit with a starched collar. Sweat oozed down his face. But he was obviously too proud of the garments to consider replacing them with something more appropriate.
Monclaire put his last question.
“How did she make the reservation?”
“By telegraph from Oran.”
Monclaire sucked the knob of his cane. Inwardly, he cursed the woman. This was exasperating. She would have to be found. And the main task of finding her would be his.
He returned briskly to the barracks. The next move was obvious. A patrol would have to search the native quarter. If necessary, it would have to go through each house, each bistro, each café even each squalid brothel…
The English and the American legionnaires would have to be in the patrol for identification purposes, for only they had seen the Tovak woman closely and clearly.
Monclaire gave the orders with his usual crisp decision. But he was worried. Very worried. And for good reason. It was not only concern for the woman. It was also a matter of the sort of reception a search patrol would receive in the native quarter.
They were always resented—naturally. And for that reason such patrols had scarcely ever been seen in recent years. The sudden arrival of one now—when the atmosphere was already strained—might result in an ugly incident.