Partisans (16 page)

‘We're going shortly. Time for tea, coffee, wine or what you will and then we're off.' He started to feed cordwood into the stove.

Major Massamo, who had kept remarkably quiet since his gag had been taken off, said: ‘We're going with you?'

‘You're staying here. Bound, but not gagged – you can shout your heads off but no-one will hear you.' He raised a hand to forestall a protest. ‘No, you won't perish of cold during the long watches of the night. You'll be more than warm enough until help comes. About an hour after we leave I'll phone the nearest army post – it's only about five kilometres from here – and tell them where you are. They should be here within fifteen minutes of getting the call.'

‘You're very kind, I'm sure.' Massamo smiled wanly. ‘It's better than being shot out of hand.'

‘The Royal Yugoslav Army takes orders from no-one, and that includes Germans and Italians. When our allies prove to be obstructive we're forced to take some action to protect ourselves. But we don't shoot them. We're not barbarians.'

A short time later Petersen looked at the three freshly-bound captives. ‘The stove is stoked, there's no possibility of sparks, so you won't burn to death. You'll certainly be freed inside an hour and a half. Goodbye.'

None of the three prisoners said ‘goodbye' to him.

Petersen led the way down the grassy steps and round the first corner. The truck was standing in a small clearing without a tree near it. Sarina said: ‘Ooh! A
new
truck.'

‘ “Ooh! A
new
truck”,' Petersen mimicked. ‘Which is exactly what you would have said when you'd come back to the hut after finding it. It's as I say, you can't trust babes in the woods. Major Massamo would just have loved to hear you say that. He would then have known that we had ditched the old truck and would have called off the hunt for the old truck – there must be a search under way by now – and, when freed, ask for a search for another missing truck and broadcast its details. It's most unlikely, but it could have happened and then I'd have been forced to lumber myself with Massamo again.'

Giacomo said: ‘Someone might stumble across the old one?'

‘Not unless someone takes it into his head to go diving into the freezing Neretva River. And why on earth should anyone be daft enough to do that? I drove it off only a very small cliff but the water is deep there. A local fisherman told me.'

‘Can it be seen underwater?'

‘No. At this time of year the waters of the Neretva are brown and turgid. In a few months' time, when the snow in the mountains melts, then the river runs green and clear. Who worries about what happens in a few months' time?'

George said: ‘What kindly soul gave you this nice new model? Not, I take it, the Italian army?'

‘Hardly. My fisherman friend, who also happens to be the proprietor of the garage I stopped at on the way up here. The army has no local repair facilities here and he does the occasional repair job for them. He had a few civilian trucks he could have offered me but we both thought this was much more suitable and official.'

‘Won't your friend be held answerable for this?'

‘Not at all. We've already wrenched off the padlock at the rear of the garage just in case some soldier happens by tomorrow, which is most unlikely, as it is Sunday. Come Monday morning, as a good collaborator should, he'll go to the Italian army authorities and report a case of breaking, entering and theft of one army motor vehicle. No blame will attach to him. The culprits are obvious. Who else could it be but us?'

Sarina said, ‘And come Monday morning? When the search starts?'

‘Come Monday morning this truck will probably have joined the old one. Whatever happens, we'll be a long way away from it by then.'

‘You
are
devious.'

‘You're being silly again. This is what you call forward planning. Get inside.'

The new truck was rather more comfortable and much quieter than the old one. As they drove off, Sarina said: ‘I'm not carping or criticizing but – well, you do have rather a cavalier attitude towards the property of your allies.'

Petersen glanced at her then returned his attention to the road. ‘
Our
allies.'

‘What? Oh! Yes, of course. Our allies.'

Petersen kept looking ahead. He could have become suddenly thoughtful but it was impossible to tell. Petersen's expression did what he told it to do. He said: ‘That mountain inn yesterday. Lunchtime. Remember what George said?'

‘Remember – how could I? He says so much – all the time. Said about what?'

‘Our allies.'

‘Vaguely.'

‘Vaguely.' He clucked his tongue in disapproval. ‘This augurs ill. A radio operator – any operative – should remember everything that is said. Our alliance is simply a temporary measure of convenience and expediency. We are fighting
with
the Italians – George said “Germans” but it's the same thing – not
for
them. We are fighting for ourselves. When they have served their purpose it will be time for them to be gone. In the meantime, a conflict of interests has arisen between the Italians and the Germans on the one hand and us on the other. Our interests come first. Pity about the trucks but the loss of one or two isn't going to win or lose the war.'

There was a short silence then Lorraine said: ‘Who
is
going to win this dreadful war, Major Petersen?'

‘We are. I'd rather you'd just call me Peter. As long as you're other wise civil, that is.'

The two girls exchanged glances. If Petersen saw the exchange he gave no signs.

In
apljina, in the deepening dusk, they were halted at an army roadblock. A young officer approached, shone his torch at a piece of paper in his hand, switched it to the truck's plates, then played it across the windscreen. Petersen leaned out of the window.

‘Don't shine that damned light in our eyes!' he shouted angrily. The light beam dipped immediately.

‘Sorry, sir. Routine check. Wrong truck.' He stepped back, saluted and waved them on. Petersen drove off.

‘I didn't like that,' Sarina said. ‘What happens when your luck runs out? And why did he let us through so easily?'

‘A young man with taste, sensibility and discretion,' Petersen said. ‘Who is he, he said to himself, to interfere with an army officer carrying on a torrid affair with two beautiful young ladies. The hunt, however, is on. The paper he held had the number of the old truck. Then he checked driver and passengers, a most unusual thing. He had been warned to look out for three desperadoes. Anyone can see that I'm perfectly respectable and neither of you could be confused with a fat and thin desperado.'

‘But they must know we're with you.'

‘No “must” about it. They will, soon enough, but not yet. The only two people who knew that you were aboard the ship were the two who are still tied up in the hut back there.'

‘Somebody may have asked questions at the
Colombo
.'

‘Possibly. I doubt it. Even if they had, no member of the crew would divulge anything without Carlos' okay. He has that kind of relationship with them.'

Sarina said doubtfully: ‘Carlos might tell them.'

‘Carlos wouldn't volunteer anything. He might have a struggle with his conscience but it would be a brief one and duty would lose out: he's not going to sell his old girlfriend down the river, especially, as is like enough, there would be shooting.'

Lorraine leaned forward and looked at him. ‘Who's supposed to be the girlfriend? Me?'

‘A flight of fancy. You know how I ramble on.'

Twice more they were stopped at roadblocks, both times without incident. Some minutes after the last check, Petersen pulled into a lay-by.

‘I'd like you to get in the back, now, please. It's colder there but my fisherman friend did give me some blankets.'

Sarina said: ‘Why?'

‘Because from now on you might be recognized. I don't think it likely but let's cater for the unlikely. Your descriptions will be out any minute now.'

‘How can they be out until Major Massamo – ' She broke off and looked at her watch. ‘You said you'd phone the army post at
apljina in an hour. That was an hour and twenty minutes ago. Those men will freeze. Why did you lie –'

‘If you can't think, and you obviously can't, at least shut up. Just a little, white, necessary lie. What would have happened if I phoned now or had done in the past twenty minutes?'

‘They'd have sent out a rescue party.'

‘That all?'

‘What else?'

‘Heaven help Yugoslavia. They'd have traced the call and know roughly where I am. The call
was
sent on the hour by my friend. From Gruda, on the
apljina – Imotski road away to the northwest of here. What more natural than we should be making for Imotski – an Italian division is headquartered there. So they'll concentrate their search on the Imotski area. There's an awful lot of places – buildings, store-houses, trucks – where a person can hide in a divisional headquarters, and as the Italians like the Germans about as much as they like the Yugoslavs – and the order for my detention comes from the German HQ in Rome – I don't suppose they'll conduct the search with any great enthusiasm. They
may
have doubleguessed – I don't think they'd even bother trying – but go in the back anyway.'

Petersen descended, saw them safely hoisted aboard the rear of the track, returned to the cab and drove off.

He passed two more roadblocks – in both cases he was waved on without stopping – before arriving at the town of Mostar. He drove into the middle of the town, crossed the river, turned right by the Hotel Bristol and two minutes later pulled up and stopped the engine. He went round to the back of the track.

‘Please remain inside,' he said. ‘I should be back in fifteen minutes.'

Giacomo said: ‘Are we permitted to know where we are?'

‘Certainly. In a public car park in Mostar.'

‘Isn't that rather a public place?' It was, inevitably, Sarina.

‘The more public the better. If you really want to hide, there's no place like hiding in the open.'

George said: ‘You won't forget to tell Josip that I've had nothing to eat or drink for days?'

‘I don't have to tell him. He's always known that.'

When Petersen returned it was in a small fourteen-seater Fiat bus which had seen its heyday in the middle twenties. The driver was a small, lean man with a swarthy complexion, a ferocious black moustache, glittering eyes and a seemingly boundless source of energy.

‘This is Josip,' Petersen said. Josip greeted George and Alex with great enthusiasm, they were obviously acquaintances of old standing. Petersen didn't bother to introduce him to the others. ‘Get your stuff into the bus. We're using the bus because Josip doesn't care too much to have an Italian army lorry parked outside the front door of his hotel.'