Partisans (25 page)

‘Link-man? Link-man?' Harrison shook his head in bafflement. ‘You speak in riddles, Peter.'

‘A riddle with a childishly easy answer. If the Germans go down who else is going to go down with them?'

‘Ah-ha!'

‘As you've just said, ah-ha. All those who have fought with them, that's who. Including us. If you were General Granelli and with Granelli's keen eye to the future, which of the opposing forces in Yugoslavia would you back?'

‘Good Lord!' Harrison sounded slightly stunned. He looked around the room. The others, if not quite stunned, looked for the most part deeply pensive, not least Rankovi
and Metrovi
. ‘What you are saying is that Granelli and this Major Cipriano are working hand-in-hand with the Partisans and that Cipriano is the master double-agent?'

Petersen rubbed his chin with his hand, glanced briefly at Harrison, sighed, poured himself some more red wine and did not deign to answer.

Petersen's radio shack did not begin to compare in magnificence with Harrison's, which they had left only a few moments previously, a premature departure arising directly from the conversational hiatus that had ensued immediately after Harrison's last words, a lacuna that went on and on and on. Harrison and the two
etnik officers were sunk in profound reverie, Sarina and Lorraine, by their expressions not by words, had made it clear that their aversion to Petersen had not only returned but was in fuller flood than ever and Alex and Michael, as ever, had nothing to say. Those two master conversationalists, George and Giacomo, had battled bravely but only briefly on. It was a lost cause.

The hut would have been big enough to serve as a one-car garage, if the car were small enough. Three beds, a table, three chairs, a cooking stove and that was all: the radio room was a tiny office next door.

‘I am sad and disturbed,' George said. ‘Profoundly disturbed.' He poured himself a large glass of wine and drank half of it in one apparently endless gulp just to show how profoundly disturbed he was. ‘Sad, perhaps, is a better word. The realization that one's life and one's lifework has been a failure is a bitter pill to swallow. The damage to one's pride and self-esteem is irreparable. The effect, overall, is crushing.'

‘I know what you mean,' Petersen said sympathetically. ‘I've felt that myself.'

George might not have heard him. ‘You will not have forgotten the days when you were my student in Belgrade?'

‘Who could, ever? As you said yourself, not more than a hundred times, a walk with you through the rose-arboured groves of academe was an experience to remain with one always.'

‘Remember the precepts I preached, the eternal verities I cherished? Honour, honesty, straightforwardness, the pure in mind, the open heart, the outright contempt for deceit, deception, dishonesty: we were, remember, to go through the darkness of this world guided solely by the light of the everlasting flame of truth?'

‘Yes, George.'

‘I am a broken man.'

‘I'm sorry, George.'

SEVEN

There were six of them in all, and six tougher looking and more villainous characters it would have been almost impossible to imagine, far less find. There was a curious likeness about them. They were all just over medium height, all lean and broad-shouldered, all clad exactly alike: khaki trousers tucked into high boots, belted khaki canvas jacket over a khaki tunic, and khaki forage caps. They carried no badges, no identification marks. All were armed in precisely the same fashion: machine-pistols in hands, a revolver at waist level and hunting knives stuck into a sheath on the right boot. Their faces were dark and still, their eyes quiet and watchful. They were dangerous men.

Surprise had been complete, resistance – even the thought of a token resistance – unthinkable. The same company as had been in Harrison's hut the previous evening, had been there just a few minutes before eight that evening when the outside door had burst open and three men had been inside the door with levelled guns before anyone could even react. Now there were six inside, and the door was closed. One of the intruders, a little shorter and a little broader than the others, took a pace forward.

‘My name is Crni.' It was the Serbo-Croat word for black. ‘You will take off your weapons, one by one, and place them on the floor.' He nodded at Metrovi
. ‘You begin.'

Within a minute every gun in the room – at least every visible gun – was lying on the floor. Crni beckoned Lorraine. ‘Pick up those guns and put them on that table there. You will not, of course, be so stupid as to even think of firing any of them.'

Lorraine had no thought of firing any of them, her hands were shaking so much that she had some difficulty in picking them up. When they were on the table Crni said: ‘Are either of you two young ladies armed?'

‘They're not,' Petersen said. ‘I guarantee it. If you find a weapon on their persons or in their bags you can shoot me.'

Crni looked at him almost quizzically, reached under his canvas jacket and produced a piece of paper from his tunic. ‘What's your name?'

‘Petersen.'

‘Ah! Major Peter Petersen. At the very top of the list. One can see they're not carrying a weapon on their persons. But their bags?'

‘I've searched them.'

The two girls momentarily stopped being apprehensive and exchanged indignant glances. Crni smiled slightly.

‘You should have told them. I believe you. If any man here is carrying a gun on his person and conceals the fact, then if I find it I'll shoot him. Through the heart.' Crni's matter-of-fact tone carried an unpleasant degree of conviction.

‘There's no need to go around making all those ludicrous threats,' George said complainingly. ‘If it's cooperation you want, I'm your man.' He produced an automatic from the depths of his clothing and nudged Alex in the ribs. ‘Don't be foolish. I don't think this fellow Crni has any sense of humour.' Alex scowled and threw a similar automatic on the table.

‘Thank you.' Crni consulted his list. ‘You, of course, have to be the learned Professor, number two on our list.' He looked up at Alex. ‘And you must be number three. It says here “Alex brackets assassin”. Not much of a character reference. We'll bear that in mind.' He turned to one of his men. ‘Edvard. Those coats hanging there. Search them.'

‘No need,' Petersen said. ‘Just the one on the left. That's mine. Right-hand pocket.'

‘You are cooperative,' Crni said.

‘I'm a professional, too.'

‘I know that. I know quite a lot about you. Rather, I've been told quite a lot.' He looked at the gun Edvard had brought him. ‘I didn't know they issued silenced Lugers to the Royal Yugoslav Army.'

‘They don't. A friend gave it to me.'

‘Of course. I have five other names on this list.' He looked at Harrison. ‘You must be Captain James Harrison.'

‘Why must I?'

‘There are two officers in Yugoslavia who wear monocles? And you must be Giacomo. Just the one name. Giacomo.'

‘Same question.'

‘Description.'

Giacomo smiled. ‘Flattering?'

‘No. Just accurate.' He looked at Michael. ‘And you, by elimination, must be Michael von Karajan. Two ladies.' He looked at Lorraine. ‘You're Lorraine Chamberlain.'

‘Yes.' She smiled wanly. ‘You have my description, too?'

‘Sarina von Karajan bears a remarkable resemblance to her twin brother,' Crni said patiently. ‘You eight are coming with me.'

George said: ‘May I ask a question?'

‘No.'

‘I think that's downright uncivil,' George said plaintively. ‘And unfair. What if I wanted to go to the toilet?'

‘I take it you are the resident comedian,' Crni said coldly. ‘I hope your sense of humour bears with you in the days to come. Major, I'm going to hold you personally responsible for the conduct of your group.'

Petersen smiled. ‘If anyone tries to run away, you'll shoot me?'

‘I wouldn't have put it as crudely as that, Major.'

‘Major this, Major that. Major Crni? Captain Crni?'

‘Captain,' he said briefly. ‘I prefer Crni. Do I have to be an officer?'

‘They don't send a mess-boy to bring in apparently notorious criminals.'

‘Nobody's said you're a criminal. Not yet.' He looked at the two
etnick officers. ‘Your names?' Metrovi
. This is Major Rankovi
.' ‘I've heard of you.' He turned to Petersen. ‘You eight will be taking your baggage with you.'