3. If reliable evidence is received that no horses remain at Sir, Sergeant-Major Limpsfield, Sergeant Wilson, Corporal Flowers, Lance-Corporal Holloway and Mr. Boutagy will leave immediately by motorcycle. The detachment will enter the Hermel road after dark. No lights will be shown.
4. Having ensured that the farmhouse is not occupied, the detachment will proceed on foot and take position as ordered. Motorcycles will be wheeled to any point where they can be conveniently and thoroughly concealed.
5. It is anticipated that a mounted party will come down the track and that some or all will enter the farmhouse, probably before dawn. No action will be taken.
6. If any of the detachment are discovered or about to be discovered, the enemy must be silenced in the most convenient manner without the use of fire-arms. On no account must any warning be allowed to reach the others.
7. Whenever the party show signs of leaving the farmhouse, Sergeant-Major Limpsfield will blow it up, whether or not I am inside.
8. If I am not available to take command, the detachment will return by way of the Hermel track and report to I (b), Ninth Army.
9. If the operation fails and a general rising takes place, it is possible that Miss Ronson-Bolbec will call on the section for advice. She will remain with you and accompany you. Should you be forced to surrender, she is to get in touch immediately with a certain Ibrahim el Amr whom she will easily find on enquiry at El Mina.
That was all remarkably military by our Field Security standards and enough, I hoped, to clear Limpsfield and his detachment from any charge of murdering civilians. In any case I thought it most unlikely they could ever turn up on the spot, or be more than witnesses if they did.
My next move was far too complex and unwarlike to explain to them, so at fourteen hundred hours precisely I obeyed my own orders and sailed out of the yard, leaving a very worried sergeant-major behind.
I found Biddy in a gentle and nostalgic mood, having tea in the shade and pretending that the patch of gravel was a lawn in England. She was being served by a housemaid. When I asked where Ahmed was, she said that he had recently been very busy with the estate and that he had gone down to Tripoli to make some purchases. That was a most hopeful sign and I took it as a good omen; he was bound to hear the news of Khalid’s kidnapping. Indeed he might have heard it already and called on Magnat to confirm that it was more than a rumour. So I asked her whether anyone had ridden up from Sir that morning. Yes, she said, a gendarme—just before Ahmed’s departure.
After some casual conversation—easy enough since I had not seen her for some time—I asked her:
‘Biddy, how are you fixed for money in these days?’
‘Pretty desperate. But we eat.’
‘If d’Aulnoy were here, would you ask him for some?’
‘Of course. Just a loan.’
‘Where is Valerie?’
‘Mooning about somewhere. Why?’
‘Because I don’t want to be interrupted in what I have to say to you. Do you at all realise that if you took money from d’Aulnoy you could be suspected of being an enemy agent?’
‘Me! But he’s an old friend. It’s ridiculous!’
‘You have already taken money from Moustofi Khan.’
‘For sewing machines.’
‘One always arranges an innocent reason for payments.’
I let that sink in, giving her time to remember all the undercurrents of my previous interrogation, and then told her that d’Aulnoy and Moustofi Khan were both in the village and that sometimes two German officers were with them.
‘But what for?’ she asked.
A mere exclamation in face of the utterly unexpected. She believed me all right. She was searching around in her mind for the implications and a way out of them.
I explained that the village was the temporary headquarters for a rebellion which could break out even while we were talking and I let her have the general details of the enemy plan. I did not mention the Hermel track and the quarry room. If she were to give away that I knew of their existence, it was the end of me.
You’ll think I was mad to trust her, but it was a gamble which had to be taken and not at all an outside chance. Remember that Biddy had spent her life in circles of unquestioning obedience and loyalty. Military and imperialistic we should now call them. Though she saw her own character in convenient and delicate shades of grey, she saw war in black and white. Exactly the opposite to Oliver Enwin.
‘Blaise—he has even talked to Hitler, you think?’
‘I am sure he has.’
‘Elite!’ she exclaimed bitterly and, when I looked puzzled, added: ‘He was always talking about that.’
‘You mean he has found his élite in the wrong place?’
‘He always did. I suppose you want us to get out of here at once.’
‘Not yet. I have a way for you to serve your country, if you will.’
I handed out a packet of rousing stuff—that the fate of our besieged army was in the balance and so on. It was necessary. One had to strip away all her petty evasions so that she could feel the sincerity of her patriotism. I expect she remembered, too, those contemptuous staff officers in Cairo who described her as a bloody woman, and how they would have to change their opinion of her. And why not, damn it!
‘What must I do?’
‘Go over to the village now and take with you one of the servants who speaks some French and can interpret. Ask to see d’Aulnoy. You will be told that he is not there, but don’t take no for an answer. Say that he’s an old friend and you know that he is there and it’s quite absurd that you shouldn’t see him.’
‘But what will happen?’
‘I don’t know. Someone is bound to ask you why you believe that d’Aulnoy is there. You will answer that you recognised him when he took refuge in the house on the night that the mule company was here.’
‘Did he?’
‘Yes. Ahmed pushed him through the back door. You will then be asked whom you have told. Answer that you have told only the security officer.’
‘Wouldn’t I have told Val?’
‘No, I don’t think you would. And d’Aulnoy will understand that.’
‘What has she said to you?’
‘Only that she loathed the man. Something to do with Paris. I didn’t press her. You will be asked when you told me. Answer: this afternoon. Where is he now? Answer: at the house. The next question will be: what did he say or what was his reaction? Now, remember this very carefully! He said that d’Aulnoy was a very rich man and that he wasn’t doing any harm to anyone by having a look at his estate. But Captain Magnat would shoot him if he knew. And what’s it worth to keep quiet?’
‘They’ll never believe it of you!’
‘Yes, they will. Moustofi Khan has already hinted that he would like to bribe me. I am only known as an unimportant officer out in the blue. I could do with a few thousand quid to keep my mouth shut.’
‘But he might give it to you.’
‘At any rate he won’t refuse outright. We shall both be taken back to the village and kept there. I shall be preserved on the ice until they can decide what to do with me. And nothing at all will happen to you. You have been a close friend of Blaise d’Aulnoy for years, and he’s in a position to see that his orders are obeyed.’
I took her through the questions and answers again, impressing it on her that she was to be perfectly natural and never try to act. She was to remember that dear Blaise ought to be in his own house, not the dirty village. And if he had a bit of money handy to keep the place running she could do with it.
‘But I should use it for that if he gave it to me,’ she protested.
Even now she couldn’t keep a note of hopefulness out of her voice.
‘Of course you would. And you are shocked that an officer whom you have always considered a gentleman should dr
eam of blackmail.’
‘Won’t he think I am going to split with you?’
That was exactly what he would think, but I hotly denied the possibility and turned to the question of Valerie, saying that she must not come down from her room while we were being removed.
‘But whatever I tell her she always does the opposite,’ Biddy complained.
‘Then tell her that you particularly want her to be here because an intimate friend of d’Aulnoy’s is coming.’
She was worried, of course, about what Valerie would make of it all and whether she would be safe alone. I assured her that Valerie would be perfectly safe, though confined to the premises for a few days, and that Biddy herself would be returned to the house as soon as there was no more need of secrecy. I honestly thought I was telling the truth, give or take a few minor alarms.
‘But will you be returned?’ she asked.
‘If you forget about war and behave with d’Aulnoy just as you always have, I shall be. In these countries one doesn’t bump a man off because he is corrupt. One thinks of ways of using him.’
Valerie was away a long time ‘mooning’. She could not even have heard the motorcycle. That would have brought her charging down to the house—not to see me, but in the hope that I brought news of Oliver.
When she joined us and was told that the friend was expected, she exploded, practically accusing her mother of trading with the enemy and asking if she could never realise that the Vichy French were on the wrong side. Then she stopped short, realising that I was saying nothing and that there might be more in the proposed visit than met the eye. But, consciously or unconsciously, she behaved according to the predicted pattern and stormed up to her room.
Biddy went off, rather pale and too self-consciously gallant, accompanied by the French-speaking maid. When she had left, I went up to see Valerie. I reminded her that she had promised to obey orders and told her that she must expect to be left alone for a time.
‘Using Mummy as cover instead of me?’ she asked.
‘More or less, yes. There is no risk. But stay in your room and don’t see us off! You have to remember just one thing. You never had that glimpse of d’Aulnoy. If you are asked whether Biddy saw him, you are to reply: “how could she? He’s in France.”’
She enquired hopefully what sentence d’Aulnoy would get.
‘Enough to make you sorry for him, so forget it! Your mother and I might be away several days. Give us a reasonable time and then go down to my section in Tripoli provided the town is quiet. If you get mixed up in any serious trouble, ask in El Mina for Ibrahim el Amr. Ibrahim is Oliver. But never, never allow yourself to remember it! He is just an Arab merchant who is unaccountably chivalrous to you.’
‘You mean I can see him?’ she exclaimed, ignoring completely all the dangerous circumstances at which I had hinted.
‘Only in case of real, desperate necessity.’
I waited in the garden, trying to enjoy the barren innocence of the valley, all grey and straw-coloured in the heat. When I first saw it at the end of the rains, innocence was not a term I would have used. I never think of the green of England as innocent; it hides and softens too much. But that valley under the June sun—well, if you had put a match to one end, the fan of flame would have reached the other.
After an hour the maid came back alone. I asked her whom her mistress was talking to.
‘I do not know, Monsieur le Capitaine,’ she replied.
But she did. There was a sparkle in her gentle eyes which had not been there before. D’Aulnoy with all his faults was greatly loved. If he hadn’t been loved, when one comes to think of it, the faults might not have had such very favourable soil in which to grow.
Another hour or more passed very slowly. I tried to keep up my spirits by reminding myself that there were many thousands of Europeans, that very evening, waiting resignedly to launch or receive attack. It didn’t help much. I would far rather have trusted rifle and grenade than a brain which was already having difficulty in remembering exactly what I had said to everyone concerned.
At last I saw Biddy returning from the village with Moustofi Khan and Yasser. Yasser had a rifle under his arm. Another good sign, however one took it. It implied either that they were certain I should not report him for carrying arms, or that it no longer mattered whether I did or not. It might also mean that I was never going to make any more reports to anybody, but that would be an improbably stupid solution at this stage.
Moustofi Khan greeted me casually, almost affectionately, and I responded by saying how sorry I was that I had not yet had an opportunity of thanking him for that admirable lunch. He was kind enough to hope that it would be the first of many. He then asked Biddy if she would leave us alone a little while. She moved away and sat down at the open french window of the living room, with Yasser standing an unobtrusive guard over her. If Valerie had turned up, I suppose he would have tried to prevent them talking to each other. Fortunately she stayed in her room, distaste reinforcing my orders.
‘What do you know of d’Aulnoy?’ Moustofi Khan asked.
‘As much as you and Magnat have told me. It seems a great pity that so able a man did not declare for de Gaulle.’
‘How do you know he has been back?’
‘Mrs. Ronson-Bolbec told me so this afternoon.’
‘What does Miss Valerie know?’
‘Absolutely nothing, I am sure. She dislikes d’Aulnoy for personal reasons. I don’t know what they are. But probably it makes sense to him.’
‘Have you told her of your—er—little game?’
He was a disconcerting interrogator. The prominent, brown eyes, hooded by long lashes and heavy lids, the air of accommodating aristocracy, both called to mind the historic Aryan tribes which were his base of power. And then out would come Portsmouth, a part in which he was not so sure of himself.
‘No bloody fear! She has high principles.’
‘You intend to marry her?’
‘I can’t afford to. But the kind of dowry I’m thinking of might help.’
‘Her mother is in this with you?’
A nasty question. I could not know what Biddy had said. So I hedged.
‘You know what she is—mercenary as they come. But she doesn’t like admitting it.’
‘Do your men know where you are?’
‘Of course. I had a week’s leave due to me, and I told them I should be spending it with the Ronson-Bolbecs.’
‘Leave? At this time?’
‘Why not? I have little to do now that there are so few troops left.’
‘And you thought it would take a few days to get the money?’
I still break out in a cold sweat when I think how nearly I answered ‘yes’. It would have shown that I had made plans earlier and that Biddy had not told me that very afternoon of d’Aulnoy’s presence.
‘I haven’t had time to work it out. D’Aulnoy must be able to lay his hands on enough local currency and he’ll want from me some sort of guarantee that I won’t talk.’
‘I can only think of one. You’re a brave man.’
‘Only a poor one. Look at it this way! D’Aulnoy can slip out as he came in, and nobody is any the wiser. It’s not worth his while to make a security officer disappear and start a high-powered enquiry.’
He seemed to agree with that. He said that if I were patient for a few days no doubt we should be able to arrive at some solution.
‘Are you surprised to find me with him?’ he asked.
‘I am. But after all you are an old friend of his.’
‘I could report you for this,’ he said—a brilliant improvisation, implying friends in high places.
‘Oh, I should admit it at once and say I was trying to trap d’Aulnoy. That sort of thing often happens when one branch of Intelligence does not know enough of what another is doing.’
> Only too true in all armies, and equally disastrous in peacetime organisations. But Moustofi Khan was taken aback. I think he understood straight operational Intelligence very well, but did not realise the number of secret departments and their duties. He promptly laid off both Portsmouth and oriental affability and ordered Biddy and myself to accompany him to the village.
‘Rooms will be prepared for you in Yasser’s house. Take your motorcycle, too!’
‘If you allow me to ride it. I’m not going to push it all the way.’
‘I will attend to that.’
He asked for my belt and revolver, which I had to surrender, and walked between Biddy and me. Biddy was far the best of the three at making conversation. She slipped easily into her usual manner, saying how lovely it was to see dear Blaise looking so well and pumping Moustofi Khan as to how long he had known him. She might have been taking us along to introduce us to an old friend whom she was sure we would like. It was a brilliant performance, made possible by the perfection of the casting. She was just being herself.
In the village was no sign at all of exceptional activity. It was hard to believe that the thirty or forty men and women knew of the existence of the quarry room and d’Aulnoy’s mysterious visitors. They were as loyal to him as any Lebanese clan to its chief.
Most politely, with exclamations of welcome as if we were guests, we were led up the outside stairs of Yasser’s house to clean, white-washed rooms, and the doors locked. At any rate mine was. I think Biddy received more consideration and apologies, though she was not free to come and go. Furniture was of the simplest: a bed, a chair and table, a washbasin and an old-fashioned commode. The window looked out on to the single street, the yard over the quarry room being out of sight.
I saw my motorcycle being wheeled over and put away in the ground floor granary. The military part of me—busy keeping the personal part away from depression—was absurdly worried about what story it could produce to explain the loss if the machine disappeared. Was the cost of cycle, motor, one, stopped from my pay or was it a court martial offence like the loss of a rifle?
When the hot, still dusk came down, Ahmed cantered up the street. He looked agitated, as well he might be. After handing over his horse to a bystander with a peremptory air which I had naturally never seen in him before, he immediately entered Yasser’s ground floor. He did not come out again, so he must have gone into the quarry room.
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