‘You are naive,’ Mikhailovitch told him.
Murdoch sighed. ‘It would be better to stand trial than to be slaughtered.’
‘I disagree with you. We have not been slaughtered by the Germans. They have been trying for three years to do that. It will take Tito a hundred years to slaughter us, and soon we will have the people behind us.’
‘We are wasting our time,’ Yasmin said. ‘The sooner we return to the Marshal the better.’
‘Why should the shooting not start now?’ remarked one of Mikhailovich’s aides, a saturnine man named Vabitsch. ‘These people have just declared themselves our enemies. That woman is a Russian commissar. If there is any shooting to be done, let us begin with them. Her, certainly.’
Markham and Yasmin both looked at Murdoch. Who looked at Mikhailovitch. ‘I would hope that you will not contemplate anything so foolish, General,’ he said. ‘You are taking a very irrational decision in any event. Were you to murder three representatives of the Allied Powers, then every man’s hand would be against you, and even if you were to win your fight with Tito you would yet be brought down, and condemned.’
Mikhailovitch chewed his lip.
‘We are already condemned,’ declared Colonel Vabitsch. ‘We have been betrayed, and sentenced to death. Make no mistake about that. Now we need the time to organize ourselves. Until these people return to him, Tito will not know what our answer is. Therefore they should not return at all. This is war to the death now, General. Tito must be classed with the Germans. And so must all who support him.’
Mikhailovitch slapped the table. ‘We have been allies. Now we are to be enemies, General Mackinder. The choice has been yours. But I will not murder you. Come to me at the head of the Communists, with arms in your hands, and I will kill you. Now leave my people. I give you safe conduct. But you must go now.’
*
‘I am glad to be away from there,’ Yasmin confided as they climbed back into the hills. ‘I felt that we were in a den of thieves.’
‘I can understand their feelings,’ Murdoch said. ‘They were our friends.’
‘And now they are our enemies. These things happen.’
‘They should not. You’re probably more used to them in Russia than we are.’
‘They happen all the time. Once I was your enemy. I think I must have been your bitterest enemy. Even you, Murdoch. Now, am I not your friend?’
‘I don’t know that, for sure,’ Murdoch said. ‘Are you? Or would you still obey an order, say from Moscow, to kill me?’
‘Would you not obey an order to kill me?’ she countered.
They gazed at each other, and she smiled. ‘We are two of a kind, Murdoch. Fighting animals. I wish I had known you in your prime.’
‘I don’t think we would have got on very well,’ Murdoch told her.
He decided against camping by the lake this time, stayed in the hills. The going was harder, but they were all concerned about possible Chetniks who might not take Mikhailovich’s ruling — and that evening they realized they were being followed.
‘Seven men, I think, sir,’ Markham said, having studied the hillside below them very carefully with his glasses.
‘Yes,’ Yasmin said, kneeling beside him. ‘Seven. What are you going to do, Murdoch? We need to rest. You need to rest.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘I’m the problem. At the same time, I think I’m the one they’re the least likely to kill. You’re in the most danger, Yasmin. So you and Markham press on another couple of miles. I’ll make camp here.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I will stay here with you.’
‘Now look here, Yasmin...’
‘I am not in your army, so you cannot give me orders,’ she pointed out. ‘Send Captain Markham on, to report to Tito. I will stay. If anyone is going to kill you, it is going to be me.’
Murdoch wished she wouldn’t say things like that. ‘Well, sir,’ Markham said, ignoring their exchange. ‘If the lady is staying I think I should too.’
Murdoch considered. ‘No,’ he decided. ‘You must go on, Percy. Someone must return to tell Tito that Mikhailovitch has definitely refused his terms. In any event, that really takes away their reason for killing us, except out of anger; we may well be able to negotiate. We’ll camp here, and you’ll leave as soon as it is dark.’
‘I really do wish you would go with him,’ he told Yasmin, as she cooked their evening meal, while Markham watched the hills behind them.
‘My business is to remain here,’ she said.
Almost as if Moscow had now determined she would be his bodyguard, he thought. ‘Then we’ll have to take turns at keeping watch. Check your weapons.’
He took the first two hours himself. At eleven Markham, having shaken hands, crawled away into the darkness. Murdoch woke Yasmin at midnight. It was a crisp, clear autumnal night, still quite warm, and with a full moon. She peered around her as she crawled out of the sleeping bag. ‘Are they close?’
‘There is nothing to be seen or heard at all,’ he assured her.
‘Perhaps we were mistaken.’
‘There were seven men following us,’ he said. ‘We weren’t mistaken about that.’
He got into the bag, warm and smelling of her scent, and closed his eyes, but did not immediately sleep. No doubt it was the sense of being in imminent, private danger. This was the strangest situation he had ever found himself in, far away from drill and spit and polish and saluting, with no men to command — and no men to worry about, either. Yet fighting a most savage war. Which was about to become more savage? He very much feared it was. But he had been sent here to fight Germans, men like Roebel — thank God Paul was no longer around — not Chetniks.
Yet he was also here to obey his orders.
He became aware of movement, kept his eyes closed with an effort. Yasmin was bending over him, peering at him. He waited, while a deadly chill crept through his system. ‘If anyone is going to kill you, it will be me,’ she had said. But that was impossible. Not this girl with whom he had shared so much. Not the woman who had nursed him back to health...he listened to the stealthy slither of her knife being drawn from its sheath.
‘I am sorry, my Murdoch,’ she said softly. ‘But this was always what had to happen.’
She had, as usual, talked too much. Murdoch’s muscles were tensed, and with a single convulsive movement he sent himself and the sleeping bag rolling away from her. The knife struck the earth where he had been, and she whipped it up again with an exclamation in Russian, reaching after him. But by then he was already out of the bag, and his revolver was drawn.
She glared at him in the moonlight, breath hissing in a mixture of chagrin and fear; she had dropped the knife and her hand hovered close to the holster on her belt. ‘You have more lives than a cat,’ she said
‘Tell me why?’ he asked. ‘Not still Chand Bibi?’ He had to find a reason, as well as the will, to kill her.
She shrugged. ‘Perhaps that makes it easier. But I am obeying orders. We agreed that we would always do that, my Murdoch.’
‘From Moscow?’
‘Of course.’
‘But why? Why did you not kill me four months ago, when I was helpless?’
‘I had no orders to do so, then. General Sukhomin brought the orders.’
‘And you are that much of a mindless robot?’
‘I obey orders, my Murdoch. Do you not always do the same?’
Still they stared at each other; she was waiting for the slightest lapse in his concentration, to draw her pistol. And he was willing her to try: he was not sure he could execute her as well in cold blood.
‘Then tell me why Moscow wishes me dead,’ he said. ‘You are against us.’
‘I am still fighting beside you.’
‘That is an act of policy. You are still against us. And you are Tito’s friend. He listens to you at least as much as he did to General Sherepkin, or as he will to General Sukhomin. He will wish to have you as his adviser after the war. He has said
this.’
And your masters will have no one interfering with their plans for Eastern Europe,’ Murdoch said. ‘I cannot tell you how sorry I am, Yasmin. I had thought...but no matter. Drop your holster belt, and I will spare your life.’
‘And take me back, your prisoner?’ Her lip curled. ‘You will not do that, my Murdoch. You will not even kill me. You are an old man, who has fallen for a young girl. What does the adage say? There is no fool like an old fool?’
‘Do not push your luck, Yasmin,’ Murdoch said. ‘I gave you your life once. And you helped me back to health, once. We are quits. Drop that belt, or I will kill you.’
‘Come and take it from me, my Murdoch,’ she invited. Murdoch shot her through the heart.
*
He left her lying on the hillside, knelt beside her for some time as he waited to see what reaction might be aroused by the sound of the shot winging through the hills, but there was none. It wanted still an hour and a half to dawn, as he again picked his way over the wooded slopes, up and down. He was aware of being more tired than ever before in his life. Sixty-three was a little much for this kind of thing, no matter how fit one might be. But it would soon be over, now, and then he would be going home...for the last time, this time.
The black had turned to grey when he heard the clicks, from in front of him. He dropped to his knees, wondering why he bothered. But there was still everything to live for, for him. Providing he could also forget a great deal.
‘You are surrounded and outnumbered, General Mackinder,’ Colonel Vabitsch called. ‘If you open fire you will be killed.’
Murdoch waited.
‘We have got your man, the Captain,’ Vabitsch said. ‘He is already dead, because he would not surrender.’
Murdoch sighed.
‘As you killed your woman,’ Vabitsch said. ‘We heard the shot. She deserved to die. She was a Communist. But you are still our enemy. Here is your friend’s body.’
Murdoch stared up the slope, and watched Markham’s body rolling down it; the cord which had strangled him was still round his neck — that was why he had heard no shots. He realized that he had to think very quickly. Vabitsch and his men must have kept going all the night, and thus had got ahead of him. The Colonel’s voice had come from higher up the hillside, and it was likely that he had concentrated his men there. Below him the trees and bracken clustered more thickly, but that increased shelter was a good way away. Yet it was the only hope of survival.
‘I will count to ten, General,’ Vabitsch said. ‘Then my men will open fire.’
Murdoch took a long breath, and prepared to hurl himself down the slope.
‘Your time is up, General,’ Vabitsch shouted.
Murdoch sent a burst of automatic fire up the hill, then commenced to roll. Bullets sang above his head and kicked the earth, and he came to rest behind a boulder, still some distance from the thicker underbrush. But he was still alive.
Just. Vabitsch’s men were still firing, and the hillside was a hail of bullets. Flat on his face, Murdoch looked down, tensed himself for another desperate roll, and saw men on the slopes below him as well, and these numbered some twenty. The newcomers were not at the moment joining in the gunfight, but were studying the hill through binoculars. His heart gave a sudden surge; even at a distance he could make out the stocky figure of Colonel Kostitch.
‘Well, glory be, the US cavalry,’ he muttered.
Vabitsch had ordered his men to cease fire, and the echoes drifted through the hills.
Murdoch took another long breath. ‘Colonel Kostitch!’ he bellowed. ‘General Mackinder. I need...’
There was another burst of firing from above him, and he felt a numbing sensation in his leg. ‘Oh Christ,’ he growled. Blood was oozing out of a gash in his trousers, but at least it was not pulsing. He ripped the material and found the wound. ‘Not too bad,’ he said to himself. ‘No bones or arteries involved.’ He fumbled in his haversack for his first-aid kit, began to wrap the torn flesh in the bandage roll. ‘I’ll survive.’
The great survivor, he thought. That is what they should call me. He realized he was quite light-headed.
But he was going to survive. Because from down the hill orders were being shouted, and Kostitch’s men were shooting as well now, at the men up the hill.
Vabitsch again called for a cease fire. ‘Why are you shooting at my men, Colonel Kostitch?’ he shouted.
‘That is General Mackinder,’ Kostitch replied.
‘I require your protection, Colonel,’ Murdoch shouted.
‘You have it, General,’ Kostitch said. ‘Vabitsch, the General is under my protection.’
‘You do not understand, Kostitch,’ Vabitsch said. ‘Your friend the General has sold us out to the Communists. He has come here to tell us this.’
‘The General is under my protection,’ Kostitch said again. ‘We are comrades in arms.’
He had continued to advance up the hill while he spoke, and Murdoch knew he was safe.
‘You are a fool,’ Vabitsch said, and took his men off.
*
Kostitch’s men buried Markham on the hillside, looking at the western sky. It was probably, Murdoch thought, the place the captain would most like to lie for ever, in the same soil as Private Edmunds. But that he should have been killed by Chetniks was a suggestion of the tragedy that lay ahead.
Kostitch listened gravely to what he had to say. ‘I could never support a Communist government in Yugoslavia,’ he said. Not even one led by Tito. He has proved himself a great soldier, but as a dictator he will be ruled by Stalin. I could never accept that.’
‘He has promised that he will be his own man,’ Murdoch said. ‘And I will do my best to see that he is.’ If only to spite Moscow, he thought.
‘I am sure you will, General. As he may wish to remain independent. But many a man has supposed he could work with Stalin, and found out differently. You wait. Even your Churchill and your Roosevelt will discover the same thing.’
‘We must hope things will change,’ Murdoch said. ‘So what are you going to do?’
‘Fight the Germans,’ Kostitch said. ‘They slaughtered my family, in 1941. My wife, my daughters, my mother, and my son. Do you remember that Fraulein my people captured, when you fought with us? How we left her?’
‘Yes,’ Murdoch said.
‘That is how I found my wife and daughters. I will fight the Germans, and I will worry about what happens, after. You tell Marshal Tito this.’
‘Will you fight under his command?’
‘Of course. He is a marshal, I am only a colonel. I will place my people under his command, until the Germans are defeated. Then we will oppose him. Tell him this also.’
‘I will do that,’ Murdoch said, and shook hands. ‘I owe you my life. I give you my personal guarantee of safety. I am sure Marshal Tito will endorse it.’
‘To have fought beside you has been a privilege, General,’ Kostitch said. ‘I would like to do so again, once more, before I die.’
*
Kostitch and his men took Murdoch back to their own encampment, which was only a few miles away, and a day’s march from Tito’s outposts. They made a stretcher for him, as he had lost a lot of blood and, now that the shock had worn off, his leg was extremely painful; Kostitch had antibiotics, however, dropped by the RAF, and was able both to dress the wound and then bandage him securely. ‘You will be all right,’ he said. ‘You have been wounded before, eh?’
‘Occasionally,’ Murdoch told him. They had left the encampment immediately, Murdoch still, to his great embarrassment, being carried on his stretcher, and now sat around the camp fire and inhaled the mixture of wood smoke and crisp night air, and drank brandy. ‘But I think I’m getting a little old for it.’
‘Age is in the mind,’ Kostitch smiled. ‘Oh, the body catches up with one, eventually. But a youthful mind will resist that longer than one which thinks in old terms. You are not yet old, Sir Murdoch. Not the way you clamber up and down these
hills.’
‘You tell my legs and back that,’ Murdoch said. ‘Even without holes in them.’
‘They will be better when they have rested. What I do find strange is that you wish to support the Communist cause. This is sad.’
‘I am obeying the orders of my Government,’ Murdoch told him.
‘Then they are supporting the Communists, which is even sadder.’
‘I think they are trying to accept the facts of life,’ Murdoch suggested. ‘They know that there is nothing they can do to prevent the Red Army from taking control of Yugoslavia. It is therefore necessary to remain friends with them until arrangements can be made for proper elections.’
‘That will never happen, my friend. Do you not remember what I told you when Tito’s people first came to us? We may regain our bodies from the Germans. But we will never regain our souls from the Reds.’
‘But you said you will fight under Tito.’
‘And I will do that. Until the war is over. Which side will you be on then, Sir Murdoch?’
‘Yours, Colonel. By that, I mean the side of an independent Yugoslavia, free to choose her own form of government.’
‘Because you owe me your life?’
‘Because I think you are right about the Reds.’
Kostitch grinned. ‘You have restored my faith in human nature. But I will give you a piece of advice, my friend: do not have any faith in the nature of a Communist. Not even Marshal Tito.’
*
Next morning Kostitch himself insisted upon accompanying Murdoch and the four stretcher-bearers for the last part of the journey. He also took with him two other men. They had been on their way for three hours, and knew they were within the territory controlled by the Communists, when they were stopped by a challenge.
‘Is that you, Colonel Kostitch?’ shouted Colonel Vidmar.
‘It is I,’ Kostitch replied.
‘Throw down your weapons. Tell your men to do likewise.’
Kostitch inspected the tumbled rocks in front of him; to their right there was a defile which led past them. It was the route he had intended to take, and it was impossible to tell how many men were hidden in the rocks. He looked at Murdoch.
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