John Robb - I Shall Avenge!

Colonel Jeux poured himself another brandy. Then he said to Monclaire: “But what am I to do? I am under orders to send a company to Tutana tomorrow. Yet we are threatened with civil disturbances here and I dare not deplete the garrison… Dieu ! What is the answer?”

Two hours had passed since the street riot. Monclaire, who had regretfully changed into his best service kit, stared moodily out of the window. He said tentatively: “You could wireless a request to Algiers for reinforcements.”

Jeux banged down the empty glass. He had taken just enough drink to stimulate his brain into fuddled activity.

“I dare not do that! Algiers would want to know what’s been happening. There would be an inquiry… I would be asked to resign…!”

“But you’ve got to tell them. You can’t ignore a situation like this in a report. That would be a court martial offence.”

Jeux let out a low groan. He slumped behind his desk. Then he said: “I know… I know… But I—I thought that if I could deal with the situation myself first, it would not look so bad. Algiers would not worry so much about a civil commotion which had already been dealt with.”

“But, colonel, when I leave with my company for Tutana tomorrow, you will be at only two-thirds your normal strength. It is quite inadequate for keeping the peace in Sadazi with things as they are. And remember this—there is a European civil population here. You are responsible for their safety. There is also that cursed woman, Annice Tovak. Her disappearance is an international matter. It will have to be reported to her government—and from what I know of the Czech government, they will not let an opportunity like this go by. They will get all the propaganda they can out of it.”

“Then we must make another attempt to bring her in.”

Monclaire pursed his lips. He was glad his back was turned to the colonel. This was like arguing with a frightened child.

“We would be massacred. We would have no chance among those narrow streets, no matter how many men went out. Anyway—I doubt if she is in Sadazi now. She obviously has found favour with the Arabs, and I don’t doubt that they have removed her.”

He turned and faced Jeux. And as he did so, Monclaire felt a surge of overwhelming pity for the man. He was helpless. Jeux knew he was helpless. He was finished. Jeux knew he was finished.

Unless…

Monclaire said gently: “There is a possible way out, mon colonel . I can delay leaving for Tutana for twenty-four hours, perhaps. It need not affect the time of our arrival, for we can make it up with forced marches.”

Jeux regarded him blankly. Then gradually the meaning percolated his brain.

“Ah oui . It would keep the garrison at full strength for an extra day.”

“Precisely—and if there is any trouble, I think it will occur within the next few hours. If my company stays, we ought to be able to deal with it.”

Jeux’s face creased into lines of puerile joy. Then anxiety returned.

“But Algiers…”

“Wireless an outline report to Algiers immediately. Say that a European woman has deliberately disappeared, and there have been minor disturbances. I will write it for you, if you wish. Then, when everything has settled down, and my company has left for Tutana, you can send another message reporting the exact sequence of events—but missing out the fact that the column for Tutana was delayed.”

Jeux nodded vigorously. The clouds were lifting. He groped for the brandy bottle.

“It is good. I knew I could rely on you, mon ami .”

He concentrated upon the alcohol.

But Monclaire felt strained and unhappy as he left Jeux’s office and walked towards the mess. The decision to hold his company in Sadazi would certainly improve the garrison’s chances of dealing with further violence. But it was a flagrant breach of discipline.

And the wireless message he was about to send…

It would be deliberately misleading because it would not contain all the facts. It would not mention that Arabs had been killed that morning in Rue St. Jean. Or that the column was not leaving for Tutana according to orders.

And there was another dismal aspect. Colonel Jeux took the ultimate responsibility for all this. But he, Monclaire, had suggested it to him. If anything went wrong…

Monclaire tried to console himself with the thought that he had been morally compelled to do something for Jeux, who was obviously incapable of doing much for himself.

He entered the sparsely furnished mess lounge. There he hoped to be able to compose the wireless message m reasonable privacy and comfort. At this time the other officers were usually on duty. It was annoying, therefore, to find that Major Baya was there.

Baya was sitting at a writing table, his pen poised thoughtfully. He gave Monclaire one of his distant nods.

Monclaire was about to pass when he saw the slip of paper on the desk. It had a printed heading. It read: Legion Etrangere. It was a radio cipher form. And on it, in large capital letters, Baya had written: “ Urgent . To Military Secretary , High Command , Algiers …”

He was not able to see the rest, for Baya hastily covered the slip with his arm. His plump, moon-like face glared at Monclaire.

He said: “Do you make a habit of reading other officers’ correspondence, capitaine ?”

Monclaire ignored the rhetorical question. He said softly: “I gather you are making a report about today’s events, major?”

Baya was the type of man who frequently resorted to blustering. He tried it now…

“I refuse to discuss a matter which does not concern you. You are being most insolent, and I…”

Monclaire cut in smoothly: “I think it does concern me, major. You have no right whatever to send an official message to Algiers without first being instructed to do so by the commanding officer.”

“ Le demon ! Are you instructing me, the adjutant, on my duties? I shall not tolerate it!”

He had risen from the table, the better to express his indignation. In doing so, he had uncovered the cipher slip.

Monclaire picked it up. Baya tried to snatch it, but Monclaire turned away. A few seconds sufficed to read the rest of the message. It gave a detailed and highly colourful account of the riots, and of Annice Tovak. It suggested that the riots were caused because of incompetence on Monclaire’s part, rather than because of the influence of the woman on an ignorant and inflamed mob. It implied, with some subtlety, that only decisive action by Baya had restored order. And it ended by stating—with truth—that Colonel Jeux was incapable of exercising his command because of excessive drinking. He, Baya, requested permission to take over immediately, pending other arrangements.

It was a masterpiece. A perfect example of the art of blending hard facts with evil distortions. It would be most difficult to disprove.

Monclaire screwed the slip into a compact ball and flicked into the floor.

“You had better not send this,” he said.

Baya ceased to bluster. He contrived a caricature of a smile.

“I can understand your concern, capitaine . The message will make matters very difficult for you.”

“I’m not thinking of myself, major. I can answer for my own actions. But Colonel Jeux can not. Your message would ruin him.”

“He deserves to be ruined… incompetent, drunken imbecile!”

“Yes—he’s a drunkard, and I don’t doubt he’s incompetent. But it was not always so. He has become what he is because he has served France too long and too faithfully. It would be a poor reward to betray him now.”