Partisans (34 page)

George yawned behind a massive hand. ‘Excuse me. Now that I'm breakfasted and am once more at peace with myself, I intend to retire and rest lightly for two or three hours. We will not be moving out until the afternoon at the earliest. We await an urgent communication from Biha
but it will take some time to collect and collate the information we want. Meantime, how do you people propose to spend the morning?' He raised his voice. ‘Peter. Those people are free to come and go as they want, inside and out, aren't they?'

‘Of course.'

Captain Crni smiled and said: ‘May I suggest that you put on your coats and I'll show you around our little town. There's not much to show so it would be a short walk and hardly exhausting. Apart from the fact that it's a lovely morning I know where we can get the best coffee in Bosnia. Far better than that awful swill we've just had.'

Sarina said, ‘That way we can still be watched, can't we?'

Captain Crni bowed gallantly. ‘It would always be a pleasure to watch you and Miss Chamberlain. If however, you wish to go alone and report to the nearest Italian command post that we are Partisans and have designs on a certain Italian intelligence major, then you are by all means free to do so. That, Miss von Karajan, is the extent to which we trust you.'

‘I
am sorry
.' She reached out an impulsive hand and caught his forearm. ‘That was a terrible thing to say. Two or three days in this country and I find I can't trust anyone, not even myself.' She smiled. ‘Besides, you're the only one who knows where the coffee shop is.'

They left – without Giacomo who had elected to remain behind – shortly afterwards. Petersen said wearily: ‘She doesn't trust anyone. God knows I don't blame her. George, I am a hypocritical liar. Even when I say nothing, I'm a hypocritical liar.'

‘I know what you mean, Peter. Sometimes a tiny voice reaches down to my conscience – God knows how it ever finds it – and says exactly the same thing. The clarion call to duty strikes a pretty cracked note at times. Sava?'

‘General?'

‘Go to the window in the front room and watch the road. If they return unexpectedly, call me. I'll be upstairs. I'll let you know when you can stop the watch. Shouldn't be more than a few minutes.'

After lunch a very refreshed-looking Petersen – he'd had four hours' sleep – crossed to where Lorraine sat with Sarina on a bench seat by a window and said: ‘Lorraine, please don't start getting worried because there is no need to. George and I would like to talk to you.'

She bit her lip. ‘I knew you would. Can – can Sarina come?'

‘Certainly.' He looked at Sarina. ‘Provided, of course, that you don't say “Oh!” and “Ah!” and “monster” and clench your fists. Promise?'

‘Promise.'

Petersen ushered them to an upstairs room where George was already seated, a large tankard on the table before him and a crate, presumably for emergency, on the floor beside him. Petersen said: ‘George?'

George shook his head positively. ‘Would you come between a man and his thirst.'

‘I would have thought you slaked that pretty thoroughly at lunch.'

‘This is a post-prandial beer,' George said with dignity. ‘Pray proceed.'

‘This will be short and painless,' Petersen said to Lorraine. ‘I'm not a dentist and you don't have to tell lies. As you must have guessed, we know everything. I can promise you, and George will confirm, that neither retribution nor punishment waits for you. You're a victim and not a villain and acted under extreme duress. Besides, you didn't even know what you were doing. All transmissions were not only in code but in Yugoslav code and you don't understand a word of Serbo-Croat. George's word, of course, carries immense weight in the war councils, almost totally so in cases such as this, and they listen to me a bit, too. No harm will come to you or Carlos or Mario.'

She nodded, almost composedly. ‘You know about our son, of course?'

‘Yes. When was he kidnapped?'

‘Six months ago.'

‘You have no idea where he is being held?'

‘No. Well, vaguely.' She was no longer composed. ‘In this country, I know. Major Cipriano wanted him out of Italy. I don't know why.'

‘I can understand. There are certain things that even Cipriano can't do in Italy. How do you know he's in this country?'

‘They let Carlos see him twice. That was twice when I said I wasn't going to work for them any more because I was sure he was dead. But I don't know where he is.'

‘Yes. I see. It doesn't matter.'

‘It doesn't matter!' She was no longer composed and her eyes were masked in tears.

George took his evil-smelling cigar from his mouth. ‘What Peter means is that Cipriano will tell him.'

‘Cipriano will tell –' She broke off, nodded and shivered involuntarily.

‘We have your code books, Lorraine. We searched your room when you were out this morning.'

‘You searched her room!' Sarina said indignantly. ‘What right –' Petersen rose and opened the door. ‘Out.'

‘I'm sorry. I forgot. I –'

‘You promised.'

‘Don't you ever give anyone a second chance?'

Petersen didn't answer. He closed the door, sat down and said: ‘False bottoms to kitbags are really dreadfully passé these days. But, then, I don't suppose either you or Cipriano ever dreamed that you would come under suspicion. No names in your book but we don't need them. There are code numbers, call-up signs and call-up times. It will take us little enough time to trap them.'

‘And then?'

George removed his cigar again. ‘Don't ask silly questions.'

‘Tell me, Lorraine. You had no idea why you had been sent to Mount Prenj? Oh, you knew what you were to do, but not why. Well, Cipriano knew that you knew Jamie Harrison and that he trusted you completely – after all, you
were
his confidential secretary – so that he would never suspect you of double-dealing: transferring messages from our diehard
etnik friends in Biha
to him in Rome or wherever, messages which he could re-transmit to the Murge regiment. But the real reason, of course, is that we had destroyed the only two long-range transmitters they had. With short-range transmitters their contacts with Rome could only be sporadic at best. But Mount Prenj is only two hundred kilometres from Biha
. It would be an awfully short range transmitter that couldn't reach there.' Petersen paused and considered. ‘Well, that's all. No, one more thing.' He smiled. ‘Yes. One more thing. Purely personal. Where did you first meet Carlos?'

‘Isle of Wight, where I was born. He was sailing at Cowes.'

‘Of course, of course. He told me that he often went sailing there before the war. Well, I hope you'll both go sailing there again after the war.'

‘Will – will Carlos be all right, Major Petersen?'

‘If you can refer to a Generalmajor as George you can refer to a Major as Peter. Why shouldn't he be? He's in the clear. Under both Italian military and civilian law he has committed no criminal offence, aided and abetted no-one. With any luck we might see him later on tomorrow.'

‘What! Carlos?' Her face was transformed.

Petersen looked at Sarina. ‘Yes, you were right, no question.' He didn't say what she had been right about. ‘Certainly. Carlos. He hasn't been up to any aiding or abetting yet, but tomorrow he will.' She didn't seem to hear him or, if she did, her mind was elsewhere. ‘He's still in Plo
e?'

‘Yes.'

‘He hasn't gone back to Italy?'

‘Alas, no. Some disaffected citizen has put sugar in his diesel oil.' She looked at him for a long moment then smiled slowly. ‘It wouldn't have been one of those solid, reliable citizens you talk about, would it?'

He smiled back at her. ‘I am not responsible for the actions of solid, reliable citizens.'

At the foot of the stairs Sarina took Petersen's arm and held him back. ‘Thank you,' she said. ‘Thank you very much. That was very kind.'

He looked at her in amazement. ‘What else did you expect me to do?'

‘Nothing, I suppose. But it was wonderful. Especially about Carlos.'

‘Today I'm not an ogre? Not a monster?'

She smiled and shook her head.

‘And tomorrow? When I have to find out where the little boy is? Do you understand what I mean?'

She stopped smiling.

Petersen shook his head sadly. ‘ “
Souvent femme varie, bien fol est qui s'y fie
”.'

‘What is that meant to mean?'

‘Picked it up from George. Something King Francis I scratched with a diamond on a pane of glass at Chambord. “Often does woman change, and very foolish is he who trusts her”.'

‘Pfui!' she said. But she was smiling again.

Towards the middle of the afternoon Petersen and Crni walked into the lounge, carrying several machine-pistols and hand-guns.

‘Replacement equipment. Ivan here took ours away so it's only fair that he should replace them. We'll be leaving shortly. Ivan, Edvard and Sava are coming with us.' He glanced at his watch. ‘Twenty minutes, shall we say? I want to get through the nasty bit of the Neretva gorge in daylight but not to arrive at our destination until it's dark, for the usual reasons.'