Mr Diplock groaned.
‘And Ware and Latrobe take over until first bell. That means that for once in a way, Ware, you’ve a chance of being on time for prayers.’
Alastair McMurtrie rolled over in his bed and sat up. He wondered what had woken him. Normally he was a sound sleeper. Then he realized what it was that had penetrated his dreams. It was the loose board at the end of the passage which gave a sharp and characteristic squeak when trodden on.
Since the short passage outside led only to their room, this meant that someone had approached their door, and since he had heard the squeak only once, it followed that they must be in the passage now.
Or had he imagined the whole thing?
There was only one way of finding out and at the thought of it he was conscious of a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach and an uncomfortable tightness in his throat. He remembered his father saying, if you’re afraid of something, it’s twice as bad if you sit and wait for it. If you go halfway to meet it, it’s surprising how it cuts it down to size.
He got out of bed and moved across to the door. Sacher muttered something in his sleep. McMurtrie considered waking him up, but thought, if the whole thing’s my imagination he’ll never let me hear the end of it.
He opened the door very softly.
There was a window halfway down the passage, overlooking the front drive. The moonlight, streaming through it, showed him Mr Manifold seated on a wooden chair, tilted back against the wall, gazing out of the window.
At the click of the door opening he turned his head and said, ‘Well, and who is it? McMurtrie? And what do you want?’
‘I thought I heard a noise, sir.’
‘If you heard a noise, it was me.’
‘Is something wrong?’
‘Why should anything be wrong?’
‘Well, I mean–’
‘I am indulging in my hobby of star gazing. You get a particularly good view of Orion’s belt from this vantage point.’
A second form materialized at the end of the passage and the voice of the Commander said sharply, ‘Something up, Ken?’
‘It’s McMurtrie. He came out to pass the time of day with me, or rather, the time of night. Now he’s going back to bed, and to sleep. Right, Alastair?’
‘All right,’ said McMurtrie. The thought of Mr Manifold lurking outside the door had been disturbing. The sight of a second master with him was comforting. He went back to bed and was soon asleep.
6
Colonel Brabazon arrived as the school was finishing its breakfast. He was Chief Constable of the County; he was also Chairman of the Governors of Trenchard House School. Mr Fairfax was glad to see him in both of those capacities.
The Colonel said, ‘I had a teletype on the situation half an hour ago. The gunmen are demanding the release of those two Jordanian girls who tried to hi-jack the VC 10 last March and safe conduct out of the country for themselves and the girls. To say nothing of two hundred thousand pounds which they describe, if you please, as compensation for false imprisonment. Bloody impertinence.’
‘Will they get it?’
‘Certainly not. They’ve backed the wrong horse this time. The Israeli Government’s instructions are absolutely clear. No concessions at all.’
‘Isn’t that going to be unpleasant for their hostages?’
‘The Israelis treat all their embassies and consulates as units in their army. The staffs are soldiers on active service. They have to take things as they come. I only wish to God that all governments had the guts to do the same.’
‘What about the Ambassador?’
‘He has been told to stay out of it.’
‘Will he?’
‘Ben Sacher’s a sound man. He won’t disobey his government’s orders about not giving way to the terrorists. But he’d like to get back inside and share the danger with his staff. He’s tried to get through twice already, but the police wouldn’t let him.’
‘Then all we can do is wait. It makes one feel so helpless.’
‘Wait and watch. You got my message last night?’
‘Yes. We’re tackling it in shifts, two of us at a time. We can’t keep it up for ever, you know. We shall have the masters falling asleep in class.’
‘It won’t last for ever. Starve them out or blast them out. It must come to a head inside a day or two.’
‘And after it’s over, what then? There’ll be other attacks–’
‘No lack of madmen in the Middle East,’ agreed the Colonel.
‘But I shouldn’t imagine anything would happen for a bit. These things take time to organize.’
‘Do you think I ought to suggest to his father that he moves the boy?’
The Colonel considered the matter. He said, ‘It’s really up to you. He’ll be leaving at the end of term, won’t he? Five weeks to go. Of course, we could hide him somewhere. Psychologically, I think it would be a mistake. Hiding’s always a depressing business. He’ll be much happier here with the people he knows.’
‘If his father agrees, I’ll go along with it.’
‘He’s probably as safe here as anywhere. You’ve got big grounds and the approaches are open. Sergeant Baker’s got a walkie-talkie set on the police net. Let him organize the thing. He’s a very good chap. I hope he’s proving an acquisition to your staff.’
For the first time that morning Mr Fairfax managed to smile. He said, ‘He does his job excellently. The only complaint I’ve heard is that his ideas on physical training are a little old-fashioned.’
‘He’s passing on what he learned at Peel House thirty years ago.’
‘In fact, I wouldn’t mind keeping him on permanently.’
‘He’s getting close to his retiring age. Might be managed, I’ll have a word with his Superintendent.’ The Colonel made a note.
‘Your other man’s proving a distinct acquisition, too.’
The Colonel, who was already at the door, stopped. ‘What other man? Oh, you mean Manifold. He’s nothing to do with us. As far as I know, he’s a perfectly genuine school master. Actually, I don’t know a lot about him. He was recommended to me by a friend. When I heard you needed someone quickly I got the friend to contact him. I’m glad he’s turning out well.’
A final thought occurred to the Colonel. He said, ‘I suppose you’ll have to tell young Sacher what’s happening. But it would be a good thing if you could keep it from the other boys. We don’t want a panic.’
‘I’ve taken steps already,’ said Mr Fairfax. ‘The papers have been stopped and the school television set is temporarily out of action.’
‘Pretty thrilling, isn’t it, sir?’ said McMurtrie.
‘Isn’t what thrilling?’ said Manifold cautiously.
‘What’s happening at the embassy. I mean, not very nice for Jared, but exciting for everyone else.’
‘Do I understand that everyone knows everything about it?’
‘Of course they do,’ said Joscelyne. ‘There are at least three undercover transistors in the dormitories. It was all on the news. Anyway, we knew there was something up before then.’
‘First it was you and GG camping out in the passage,’ said McMurtrie. ‘And I must say you gave me no end of a fright. You might have warned us what you were up to. Then Shepherd, going to the lav at six o’clock this morning, turned a corner and ran slap into Connie, prowling round the corridors carrying a sort of knobkerrie. I don’t know which of them was more frightened.’
‘Then we saw the Chief Constable’s car coming up here after breakfast–’
‘And the head sent for Jared. He’s still there–’
‘And the television in the library seemed to have disappeared.’
‘And something seemed to have happened to the papers we usually get in the morning–’
‘And so,’ said McMurtrie, ‘we slipped straight down to the kitchen and borrowed her copy of the Star off Annie. There’s a sensational photograph on the front page. I can easily get hold of it again if you’d l
ike to look at it.’
Monty Gedge, who was both stout and silent, spoke for the first time.
‘I saw a film once,’ he said. ‘It was about a school on the North-West Frontier. It was threatened by tribesmen. They armed all the boys with guns.’
‘What happened?’ said Manifold.
‘A lot of people got shot.’
‘The same thing would happen here,’ said Manifold.
‘So I gather you know all about it already,’ said Mr Fairfax.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Sacher.
‘I had underestimated the power of the pocket transistor. In the circumstances I think we had better restore the television set to the library and all listen to the news as it comes in.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Would you – I mean – are you quite happy to go on as usual?’
The only previous occasions on which Mr Fairfax could remember isolating a boy was when he was suspected of having an infectious disease or was about to be expelled.
‘I don’t think it would improve the situation,’ said Sacher, with a smile that seemed almost entirely adult, ‘if I had to spend the next few days in the sickroom.’
‘I don’t suppose it would. I needn’t say how sorry I am. I suppose you knew some of these people.’
‘Mrs Penberthy, the housekeeper, has been with my father for as long as I can remember–’
There was a story behind that, Mr Fairfax knew. Ben Sacher’s wife was not dead. She had left him shortly after Jared was born. She was now living in Cairo.
‘–And I knew both the cipher clerks. Torbah and Haresh. I don’t know which of them was on duty. Torbah only came to us this year. He’s nineteen. I hope it isn’t him.’
Mr Fairfax said nothing.
Sacher said, very politely, ‘Do you think I had better go back now? Mr Manifold must be wondering where I am.’
‘The situation at the Israeli Embassy was largely unchanged at midday today. The Ambassador, his Excellency Ben Sacher, was allowed by the gunmen to speak on the telephone to the chief cipher clerk who is one of the hostages. He reported that they had none of them been harmed, and had so far been well treated. The police cordon round the building has been maintained and traffic passing either side of the building has been diverted.
The Ambassador has repeated his offer to go into the building and negotiate with the gunmen, but it is understood that his govemment has categorically refused to allow this. It is in any event doubtful whether the British authorities would agree to such a move.
If there are any further developments, we shall be interrupting the sports programme at three o’clock this afternoon with a bulletin–’
‘A rotten show,’ said Commander Gaze. ‘But what can you expect with a government of weak-kneed old women.’
‘What would you do?’ said Mr Diplock.
‘I can tell you what I wouldn’t do,’ said the Commander. ‘I wouldn’t truckle to terrorists.’
‘But what would you do?’
‘When I was in Malta, in 1941, a crowd of stokers mutinied. Barricaded themselves in the seamen’s club and refused to come out. Reggie Lyon was Senior Naval Officer Malta at the time. He had the guns of Renown trained on the club and gave the bastards half an hour to make their minds up. They knew Reggie. They were out inside ten minutes.’
‘I don’t think,’ said Mr Diplock, ‘that we could get a battleship close enough to the Israeli Embassy to be effective.’
‘I must emphasize,’ said Mr Fairfax, ‘that I’m not going to have the school demoralized or the routine upset. If there is to be a further bulletin, I will allow One-A to go into the library, in an orderly fashion, at five minutes to three in charge of the master who is taking them for second period. As soon as it is over they will return to their classroom with him and get on with their work. There will be cricket, as usual, for all three games, at four o’clock. I would suggest that discussion of the matter is discouraged, particularly among the smaller boys.’
The hind-quarters of a handsome skewbald faded from the screen and were replaced by the face of the newscaster. Before he opened his mouth it was clear that the news was not going to be good.
‘We interrupt our programme of racing at Lingfield, (he said), to give you up-to-date news of the siege at the Israeli Embassy in Gloucester Gate. As was mentioned in our previous bulletin, communications have been established by telephone with the terrorists. It is understood that their spokesman has given the police an ultimatum. Unless their terms have been agreed to by eight o’clock this evening the three hostages will be shot. It is believed that the terrorists, who belong to the fanatical El Arish organization, will take their own lives if this is the only alternative to capture. As an alternative they have offered to release the hostages in exchange for the Ambassador whom they now admit to have been their main target. The Ambassador, His Excellency Ben Sacher, has been in constant touch with his own government and our own Foreign Secretary. Both governments are standing by their earlier decision that he cannot be allowed to hand himself over to men who have avowed their intention of killing him. We shall be letting you have further news as soon as it becomes available.’
His anxious face faded and an excited voice said, ‘They’re coming into the straight now. Red Socks has his nose in front of Paramatta. Can he keep it up? It’s going to be a very close thing–’
In silence seven boys and Latrobe watched Red Socks hold on to win by a nose in the three o’clock race at Lingfield. In silence they trooped back towards the One-A classroom.
Latrobe put a hand on Sacher’s arm to detain him and motioned the rest of the boys to go ahead. He said, ‘I just wanted to tell you how much I admired you. You’re being tremendously brave about all this.’
‘What’s there to be brave about? I’m not going to be shot.’
‘If there’s anything I can do to help.’
‘I think the others will be waiting for us.’
Sacher removed his arm unhurriedly from Latrobe’s grasp and walked off down the passage.
‘I wish someone would break a window or something,’ said Mr Fairfax. ‘Teatime was horrible. Hardly anyone talking. Everyone munching steadily with one eye on Sacher and the other on the clock.’
‘I can’t see any reason to get worked up about it,’ said Lucy coldly. ‘The only person really concerned is that boy and he seems to be the only one who isn’t behaving hysterically. Yes, Elizabeth, what is it?’
‘Patterson’s been sick. He’s the third.’
‘Then mop it up.’
‘I have.’
‘Then what are you bothering me about?’
‘It was really Mr Fairfax I wanted. I think someone ought to say something to them.’
‘Why? Small boys are always being sick. It’s probably something they ate at tea.’
‘I don’t think so. It was when Holbrow said, “Have they shot them yet?” that Patterson turned round and was sick all over the floor.’
‘I’ll come and talk to them,’ said Mr Fairfax. ‘This has got to stop.’
‘I’d wallop the lot of them,’ said Lucy. ‘That’d stop them worrying about other people’s troubles.’
Mr Fairfax was not actually running, but he was coming along so fast that the three boys in the turret room knew that he had something to tell them.
‘It’s all right,’ he said, as soon as he got into the room.
The three boys sat up in bed.
‘At least, it’s more or less all right. Much better than might have been expected. It was all on the nine o’clock news. We’d have got you down to listen but we didn’t want to miss any of it. Apparently your father knew that there was a way in over the roof of the next house. It was a sort of fire escape from the embassy. He persuaded the police to go in that way with him. They got all the hostages out that way. They were locked up in the kitchen in the top storey flat. Then they went down and tackled the terrorists. There was some shooting. One of the policemen was wounded. And one of the t
errorists was killed, and both the others were wounded.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it,’ said Joscelyne.
‘Lovely,’ said McMurtrie. He could picture guns roaring, bullets flying, bodies falling. As good as television. Like television, too, the baddies got killed and the goodies only got wounded.
Sacher was sitting bolt upright in bed, his face very white. Mr Fairfax looked at him curiously, said “good night”, and went out and shut the door.
Sacher turned over on his face and started to cry. The other two boys watched him, with sympathy, but without embarrassment.
7
‘What I’m giving you,’ said Chief Superintendent Anderson, ‘is a preliminary report. We’ve been at it for ten days now. The results haven’t been sensational. But they haven’t been altogether negative, either.’ He had an audience of four. Colonel Brabazon, Chief Constable of Hampshire, was at the head of the table. The other three men were Fred Lowry, deputy Chief Constable of West Sussex, Chief Superintendent Woolmer, representing the Chief Constable of Surrey, and Chief Superintendent Brayne, representing the Chief Constable of Kent.
‘We started off with a bit of good luck and a bit of bad luck. The good luck was that a witness actually saw the car leaving the scene of the crime. The bad luck was that he wasn’t a mite more observant.’
They had had another piece of bad luck, too. Out of respect for Fred Lowry, Anderson didn’t mention it. The case of Sergeant Callaghan was still sub judice.
‘From what that witness told us, we do at least know what we’re not looking for. It isn’t a very large or new or expensive car. And it isn’t a sports car. It’s an oldish family-type four door saloon.’
‘That narrows it down to five million,’ said Brayne.
‘We know rather more about it than that. In fact, when I go through the scientific evidence, I think you’ll agree that if we find the car we shall be able to identify it without any doubt at all.’
Night of the Twelfth Page 6