Алистер Маклин - Partisans

‘That’s an apology?’ George said.

‘For an English officer,’ Petersen said, ‘that is – as an English officer would say – a jolly handsome apology.’

‘He’s not the only one who’s due to make an apology.’ Michael wasn’t actually shuffling his feet but he looked as if he would have liked to. ‘Major Petersen, I have–’

‘No apology, Michael,’ Petersen said hastily. ‘No apology. If I’d a sister like that, I wouldn’t even talk to her tormentor, in this case, me. I’d clobber him over the head with a two by four. So if I don’t apologise to your sister for what I’ve done to her, don’t you apologize to me.’

‘Thank you very much, sir.’ He hesitated. ‘May I ask how long you’ve known that Sarina and I were – well, what you say we are.’

‘From the first time I saw you. Rather, let me say I suspected something was far wrong when I met you in that Rome apartment. You were both stiff, awkward, ill at ease, reserved, even truculent. No smile on the lips, no song in the heart, none of the eagerness, the youthful enthusiasm of those marching off into a glorious future. Ultra-cautious, ultra-suspicious. Wrong attitude altogether. If you’d been flying red flags you couldn’t have indicated more clearly that something was weighing heavily on your minds. Your pasts were so blameless, so your concern was obviously with future problems such – as became evident quite soon – how you were going to transfer yourselves to the Partisan camp after you had arrived at our HQ. Your sister lost little time in giving you away – it was in the mountain inn when she tried to convince me of her Royalist sympathies. Told me she was a pal of King Peter’s – prince, as he was then.’

‘I never did!’ Her indignation was unconvincing. ‘I just met him a few times.’

‘Sarina.’ The tone was mildly reproving.

She said nothing.

‘How often must I tell you–’

‘Oh, all right,’ she said.

‘She’s never met him in her life. She sympathized with me about his club foot. Young lad’s as fit as a fiddle. Wouldn’t know a club foot if he saw one. Well, all this is of interest but I’m afraid only academic interest.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Giacomo said. ‘It’s of more than academic interest to me.’ He was, as always, smiling, but in the circumstances, it was difficult to say what he was smiling about. ‘However, as a matter of academic interest, I’m totally in agreement with those kids – sorry, I mean Sarina and Michael. I don’t want to fight – I mean I don’t want to fight in those damned mountains; the Aegean and the Royal Navy will do me very nicely, thank you – but if I have to it’ll be with the Partisans.’

‘You’re like Jamie,’ Petersen said. ‘If you’re going to fight anybody it’s going to be the Germans?’

‘I think I made that pretty clear to you back in the Hotel Eden.’

‘You did. It’s still only a matter of academic interest. What are you going to do about it? How do you intend going about joining your guerrilla friends?’

Giacomo smiled. ‘I’ll wait for a break.’

‘You could wait for ever.’

‘Peter.’ There was a note of appeal, almost desperation, in Harrison’s voice. ‘I know you owe us nothing, that you have no responsibility for us any more. But there must be a way. However different our philosophies, we’re all in this together. Come on, Peter. We could settle our differences afterwards. Meantime – well, a man of your infinite resources and–’

‘Jamie,’ Petersen said gently. ‘Can’t you see the fence down the middle of this room. George, Alex and I are on one side. You five are on the other. Well, you, the von Karajans and Giacomo are. I don’t know about Lorraine. It’s a mile high, that fence, Jamie, and not for climbing.’

‘I see his point, Captain Harrison,’ Giacomo said. ‘The fence is not for climbing. Besides, my pride wouldn’t let me try it. I must say, Major, it’s not like you to leave loose ends lying around. Lorraine, here. Doesn’t she fit into a category? For our edification, I mean.’

‘Category? I don’t know. And not to give you offence, Lorraine, but I don’t really care now. It doesn’t matter. Not any more.’ He sat down, glass in hand, and said no more. As far as anyone could tell, Major Petersen had, for the first time in their experience, lapsed into a brooding silence.

It was a silence, punctuated only by the occasional glug-glug as George topped empty wineglasses, that stretched on and uncomfortably on, until Lorraine said suddenly and sharply: ‘What’s wrong? Please, what’s wrong?’

‘Speaking to me?’ Petersen said.

‘Yes. You’re staring at me. You keep on staring at me.’

‘Being on the wrong side of a fence doesn’t stop a man from having good taste,’ Giacomo said.

‘I wasn’t aware of it,’ Petersen said. He smiled. ‘Besides, as Giacomo said, it’s no hardship. I’m sorry. I was a long long way away, that’s all.’

‘And speaking of staring,’ Giacomo said cheerfully, ‘Sarina’s no slouch at it either. Her eyes haven’t left your face since you started your Rodin the thinker bit. There are deep currents, hereabouts. Do you know what I think? I think she’s thinking.’

‘Oh, do be quiet, Giacomo.’ She sounded positively cross.

‘Well, I suppose we’re all thinking one way or another,’ Petersen said. ‘Heaven knows we’ve plenty to think about. You, Jamie, you’re sunk in a pretty profound gloom. The bright lights? No. The white cliffs? No. Ah! The lights of home.’

Harrison smiled and said nothing.

‘What’s she like, Jamie?’

‘What’s she like?’ Harrison smiled again, shrugged and looked at Lorraine.

‘Jenny’s wonderful,’ Lorraine said quietly. ‘I think she’s the most wonderful person in the world. She’s my best friend and James doesn’t deserve her. She’s worth ten of him.’

Harrison smiled like a man who was well-pleased with himself and reached for his wineglass; if he was wounded, he hid it well.

Petersen looked away until his eyes lighted casually on Giacomo, who nodded almost imperceptibly: Petersen smiled slightly and looked away.

Twenty more minutes passed, partly in desultory conversation but mainly in silence, before the door opened and Edvard entered. ‘Major Petersen?’

Petersen rose. Giacomo made to speak but Petersen forestalled him. ‘Don’t say it. Thumbscrews.’

He was back inside five minutes. Giacomo looked disappointed. ‘No thumb-screws?’

‘No thumb-screws. I would like to say that they’re bringing out a rack and that you’re next. No rack. But you’re next.’

Giacomo left. Harrison said: ‘What was it like. What did they want?’

‘Very humane. Very civilized. What you would expect of Crni. Lots of questions, some very personal, but I just gave them name, rank and regiment, which is all you’re legally required to give. They didn’t press the matter.’

Giacomo was back in even less time than Petersen. ‘Disappointing,’ he said. ‘Very disappointing. They’d never have made the Spanish Inquisition. The courtesy of your presence, Captain Harrison.’

Harrison was away a little longer than either but not much. He returned looking very thoughtful. ‘You’re next, Lorraine.’

‘Me?’ She stood and hesitated. ‘Well, if I don’t go I suppose they’ll come for me.’

‘It would be most unseemly,’ Petersen said. ‘We’ve survived. What’s a lion’s den to an English girl like you?’

She nodded and left, but left reluctantly. Petersen said: ‘How was it, Jamie?’

‘An urbane lot, as you say. Seemed to know a surprising amount about me. No questions that had any military bearing that I could see.’