Partisans (24 page)

‘Not against odds like that, I'm not. Like Peter here, I lay no claim to being a military man – I never even
saw
a uniform until three years ago – but if the action is so imminent why are you drinking wine at your leisured ease instead of being hunched over your war maps, sticking flags in here, flags in there, drawing up your battle plans or whatever you're supposed to be doing in cases like this?'

Metrovi
laughed. ‘Three excellent reasons. First, the offensive is not imminent – it's two weeks away yet. Second, all the plans have already been drawn up and all the troops are already in position or will be in a few days. Third, the main assault takes place at Biha
, where the Partisan forces are at present centred, and that's over two hundred kilometres north-west of here. We're not taking part in that: we're staying just where we are in case the Partisans are so foolish, or optimistic or suicidal to try to break out to the south-east: stopping them from crossing the Neretva, in the remote possibility of a few stragglers getting as far as here, would be only a formality.' He paused and gazed at a darkened window. ‘There may well be a fourth possibility. If the weather worsens, or even continues like this, the best laid plans of the High Command could well go wrong. A postponement would be inevitable. Nobody's going to be moving around the mountains in those impossible weather conditions for days to come, that's for sure. Days might well become weeks.'

‘Well, yes,' Harrison said. ‘One sees why you face the future with a certain resigned fortitude. On the basis of what you say the chances are good that you won't even become involved at all. For myself, I hope your prognosis is correct – as I've said I'm no man of war and I've become quite attached to these rather comfortable quarters. And do you, Peter, expect to hibernate along with us?'

‘No. If the Colonel has nothing for me in the morning – and he gave no indication tonight that he would have – then I shall be on my way the following morning. Provided, of course, that we're not up to our ears in snowdrifts.'

‘Whither away, if one is –'

‘Permitted to ask? Yes. A certain Italian intelligence officer is taking an undue amount of interest in me. He's trying either to discredit me or hamper me in my operations. Has tried, I should say. I would like to find out why.'

Metrovi
said: ‘In what way has he tried, Peter?'

‘He and a gang of his thugs held us up in a Mostar hotel in the early hours of this morning. Looking for something, I suppose. Whether they found it or not I don't know. Shortly before that, on the boat coming from Italy, some of his minions tried to carry out a night attack on us. They failed, but not for the want of trying, for they were carrying syringes and lethal drugs which they were more than prepared to use.'

‘Goodness me.' Harrison looked suitably appalled. ‘What happened?'

‘It was all quite painless, really,' George said with satisfaction. ‘We welded them up in a cabin on the boat. Last heard of they were still there.'

Harrison looked reproachfully at George. ‘Missed this out in your stirring account of your activities, didn't you?'

‘Discretion, discretion.'

‘This Italian intelligence officer,' Metrovi
said, ‘is, of course an ally. With some allies, as we know, you don't need enemies. When you meet up with this ally what are you going to do? Question him or kill him?' The Major seemed to regard that as a very natural query.

‘Kill him?' Sarina looked and was shocked. ‘That nice man. Kill him! I thought you rather liked him.'

‘Liked him? He's reasonable, personable, smiling, open-faced, has a firm handshake and looks you straight in the eye – anyone can tell at once that he's a member of the criminal classes. He was prepared to kill me, by proxy, mind you, through his hatchet-man Alessandro – which, if anything, makes it an even more heinous intention on his part – so why shouldn't I be prepared to pre-empt him? But I won't, at least not right away. I just want to ask him a few questions.'

‘But – but you might not even be able to find him.'

‘I'll find him.'

‘And if he refuses to answer?'

‘He'll answer.' There was the same chilling certainty in the voice. She touched her lips with the back of her hand and fell silent. Metrovi
, his face thoughtful, said: ‘You're not the man to ask questions unless you're pretty certain of the answers in advance. You're after confirmation of something. Could you not have obtained this confirmation at the hotel you mentioned?'

‘Certainly. But I didn't want the place littered with corpses, not all of which might have been theirs. I'd promised to deliver this lot intact first. Everything in its due turn. Confirmation? I want confirmation of why Italy is planning to pull out of this war. That they want out I don't for a moment doubt. Their people never wanted this war. Their army, navy and air force never wanted it. Remember when Wavell's army in North Africa overwhelmed the Italians? There was a picture taken just after the last battle, a picture that was to become world-famous. It showed about a thousand Italian prisoners being marched off to their barbed wire cages escorted by three British soldiers. The sun was so hot that the soldiers had given their rifles to three of the prisoners to carry. That about sums up the Italian attitude to the war.

‘Given a cause that is close to their hearts, the Italians can fight as gallantly as any people on earth. This cause is not close to their hearts – it couldn't be further away from it. This is Germany's war and they don't like fighting Germany's war because, basically, they don't like the Germans. It has been repeatedly claimed, both by the Italians and the British that the Italians are, at bottom, pro-British. The truth is, of course, that they're just pro-Italian.

‘No-one is more acutely aware of this than the Italian high command. But there's more to it of course than just patriotism. There's no lack of first-class minds in the Italian high command and it's my belief that they are convinced, even at this early stage, that the Germans are going to lose the war.' Petersen looked round the room. ‘It may not be your belief, it may not be my belief, but that's irrelevant. What matters is that I'm convinced it is their belief and that they are even now figuring out a way to arrive at an accommodation – for want of a better word – with the British and Americans. This accommodation, of course, would take the form of a full-scale surrender but, of course, it would be nothing of the sort. It would involve full-scale cooperation upon the part of the Italians with every aspect of the British and American forces just short of the front-line engagement of their troops in the front line.'

‘You seem very sure about this, Peter,' Metrovi
said. ‘How can you be so sure?'

‘Because I have access to sources and information that none of you has. I am in constant touch with both Italian and German forces in this country and, as you know, I'm a frequent visitor to Italy and have talked to literally hundreds of Italians there, both military men and civilians. I am neither literally deaf nor figuratively dumb. I know, for instance, that Italian Intelligence and German Intelligence are barely on civil speaking terms with each other and most certainly do not trust each other round the nearest corner in the street.

‘General Granelli, Head of Italian Intelligence and Cipriano's boss – Cipriano is this Intelligence Major I was talking about – is an evil and warped character but out-and-out brilliant. He knows the situation and the options as well as anyone and is in no doubt that the Germans are going to go down in dust and flames and has no intention of joining them there. He's also pretty certain that I know quite well what the true situation is and that if I start voicing my doubts – my convictions, rather – out loud I could be a positive danger to him. I think he's been twice on the point of having me eliminated and has twice changed his mind at the last minute. I know there's going to be a third time which is one reason why I want to get out of here – before Cipriano or some other comes, in the guise of a loyal ally, naturally, and arranges for an accident to happen to me. But the main reason, of course, for my departure is to get to their link-man before he gets to me.'