Алистер Маклин - Partisans

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.’

‘I’m not looking forward to that,’ Sarina said.

‘Have no fear. I’m not driving. Sava is. He’s a truck driver in civilian life.’

‘What destination?’ Harrison said.

‘Ah! I forgot. A new acquaintance for you, Jamie, but an old friend of ours. The proprietor of the Hotel Eden in Mostar, one Josip Pijade.’

‘A solid and reliable citizen,’ Lorraine said.

‘A very solid, very reliable citizen. You have a faraway look on your face, George. What are you thinking of?’

‘Venison.’

And venison it was. Josip and Marija had excelled themselves and achieved the seemingly impossible – the venison tasted even marginally better than the last time. George excelled himself in a corresponding fashion, but failed to achieve the impossible: halfway through his third massive helping of venison he had to admit defeat. Sleep that night, unlike the last occasion, was undisturbed by unwelcome visitors. Breakfast was a late and leisurely meal.

‘I wish we’d had you up in the damned Mount Prenj for the past two months,’ Harrison said to Josip after the meal. ‘But it’s been worth the wait. I wish someone would station me here for the duration. He directed his attention towards Petersen. ‘Are we permitted to know our plans – well, your plans – for the day?’

‘Of course. They’re concerned primarily, though not entirely, with one person – Cipriano, his apprehension and interrogation. The Bihać affair we can consider as being virtually a closed matter. As you know, we failed to make contact yesterday, but Ivan and I had better luck during the small hours – reception, as you know, is always better at night. They’ve come up with no fewer than sixteen Četnik-turned-Partisan suspects, there can’t be more than two, at the most three. We send out a coded message at a certain hour on a certain wavelength and note will be taken as to which of the sixteen is absent at the time. He will not of course be apprehended until the other one or two have been similarly trapped. Routine. Forget it.’ That the words were tantamount to a death sentence was evident to everyone, except, apparently, Petersen.

‘Cipriano,’ Giacomo said. ‘Still at Imotski?’

‘He is. We have two men up there on a twenty-four hour watch. We’re in radio contact. Spoke to them last an hour ago. Cipriano’s up and around but shows no sign yet of moving on. He’s got quite an entourage with him.’ He looked at Alex. ‘You might be interested in hearing the description of one of them.’

‘Alessandro?’ Alex said hopefully.

‘No other.’

‘Ah.’ Just for once Alex registered a trace of expression: it was as near to a happy smile as Alex would ever come.

‘Plus, I’m almost certain from the description, Alessandro’s three henchmen. Seems that Carlos must have found a flame-cutter somewhere. We don’t, of course, know which way the fox is going to jump – there are several different exit routes he can take from Imotski – but we’ll be told immediately that is known. He could, of course, be taking a back road to Ploče and hitch-hiking a lift home with Carlos – if the Colombo ’s diesel lines have been cleared out – but I think that unlikely. I think he’ll be heading for the military airfield just outside the town here and the fast way back to Rome. Ivan and I are just going out to the airport to check.’

‘Check what?’ Harrison asked.

‘Whether there’s air transport standing by for him.’

‘Won’t the airfield be guarded?’

‘We are two Italian officers. I’ve just promoted myself to Colonel and will probably outrank anyone there. We’ll just walk in and ask them.’

‘That won’t be necessary, Peter,’ Josip Pijade said. ‘My cousin, who owns a garage just outside the airport, works there as a parttime repair and maintenance engineer. Not, unfortunately, on the planes, but on the plant, otherwise the Italian air force would be experiencing mysterious crashes. I have but to lift the phone.’

‘Thank you, Josip.’

Josip left. Lorraine said: ‘Another solid and reliable citizen?’

‘Yugoslavia is full of them.’

Josip was back in two minutes. ‘There is an Italian plane on standby. And it’s reserved for Major Cipriano.’

‘Thank you.’ He nodded to the small transceiver on the table. ‘I’ll take this with me. Call up if you hear from Imotski. We’re almost certain of the route Cipriano will take into town so Ivan and I will go and select an ambush spot. We may take your car, Josip?’

‘Take me, too. I know the perfect spot.’

Sarina said: ‘We can go into town?’

‘I think so. I won’t be needing you until nightfall. The only attention you’re liable to attract is wolf-whistles from the licentious Italian soldiery.’ He looked at Giacomo. ‘I’d feel happier if you went along.’

‘No sacrifice too great,’ Giacomo said.

Sarina smiled. ‘We need protection?’

‘Only from the licentious soldiery.’

The call came, inevitably enough, when they were halfway through lunch. Marija came in and said: ‘They’ve just left. They’re heading for Posušje.’

‘The Mostar road. Excuse us,’ Petersen said. He rose as did Alex, Crni and Edvard.

George said: ‘I wish I were coming with you. But everyone knows I’m not a man of action.’

‘What he means,’ Petersen said coldly, ‘is that his jaws haven’t even got out of second gear yet and he’s barely touched his first litre of beer.’

Sarina said: ‘You will be careful, won’t you?’

Petersen smiled and said: ‘Coming, Giacomo?’

‘Certainly not. That’s a public bar through there. The licentious soldiery might come in any moment.’

‘There’s your answer about being careful, Sarina. If Giacomo thought there was the slightest chance of shooting an Italian full of holes he’d be the first aboard the truck. He knows there’s no hope. But thanks all the same.’

Alex, white handkerchief in hand, stood on a low knoll in the rough grazing field opposite the tree-lined lane which led off the main Lištica – Mostar road. In the lane itself, with engine running, Petersen sat in the cab of the Italian army truck which was parked only feet from the entrance to the road.