John Robb - I Shall Avenge!

Baya sat down again. He looked thoughtful. Then he said slowly: “You’re altruistic, capitaine . I admire you for it, but such unselfish loyalty—it is foolish. Can’t you see that Jeux cannot last much longer, in any case? What difference does it make if he goes now or later… except; perhaps, to us…”

He paused to stare with a calculated intensity at Monclaire. He added: “Maybe I have been unreasonable where you personally are concerned. Suppose—suppose we come to an agreement?”

Monclaire did not answer the implied question. But his face expressed genuine curiosity. Baya continued with increasing confidence.

“I am thinking that I could rewrite the message to Algiers, cutting out any criticism of you. In fact, I could say your conduct today was excellent. Then, with Jeux removed and I in command; much could be done for you, Monclaire. I could…”

“ Batard !”

Monclaire breathed the expletive through still lips. Baya looked startled.

“ Capitaine ! I cannot tolerate such an insult. Please remember that I am your senior officer.”

“I cannot forget the fact. It disgusts me. You will understand that I will not join in any such filthy deal. Such things may be normal among politicians, but they are not becoming to soldiers.”

“Your decision is final?”

“Completely final.”

Baya stooped and retrieved the crumpled cipher slip.

He said: “Then I am sending the message as it stands.”

Monclaire’s eyebrows had lowered.

“You are determined on that?”

“ Oui . I will be frank with you, capitaine . You see, this is my opportunity and it could have been yours. 1 am not going to let it slip by.”

Monclaire regarded Baya thoughtfully. Outwardly, he appeared tense but calm. Within him, Monclaire’s brain was seething.

Baya’s message would produce serious results. But, as yet, Baya did not know all the facts. What would happen when he discovered the decision to delay the departure for Tutana? Baya would certainly report the fact in another signal to Algiers. And, as a result, Jeux would be put under arrest…

It would be useless to explain to the High Command that the delay need not affect the arrival time. Useless to tell them of the plan to march a little longer each day so as to make up for the lost twenty-four hours.

For, in the Legion—as in any efficient army—an order had the status of a divine edict. An order must be obeyed implicitly. And for an obvious reason—if those who gave orders could not be certain that they would be carried out exactly in every detail, any co-ordinated strategy would be impossible.

And as for Monclaire himself…

As he assessed the situation, Monclaire admitted that he probably had many faults, both as a soldier and as a man. But he had always tried to conduct himself with distinction. And he had had more than his share of active service. Yet promotion had been slow. Perhaps that was because during long years in the desert, he had not been able to make those influential contacts at headquarters. While he had been risking his skin, officers like Baya had been feathering their military nests at the base.

Yet, despite all its injustices, Monclaire loved the life. It was the only life. Any other would be intolerable.

And now it was threatened with ruin by an ambitious and unscrupulous swine…

He looked down at the bald circle at the top of Baya’s head. He watched the plump and shapeless hands smoothing out that damned radio signal…

In a few seconds, Baya would strut out of the mess He would turn left and walk alone the corridor to the wireless room. There he would give it to the operator for Morse transmission to Algiers…

Then it would all be finished.

And for what purpose? For the greater glory of Major Bayal. That was all.

It was not in Monclaire’s character to plead before any man. But he felt tempted to do so now. He was restrained only by the knowledge that such an appeal would be useless. Suddenly Monclaire felt very tired and very bitter. He watched Baya fold the cipher slip neatly, and put it in his tunic pocket. He watched him turn towards the door.

And he saw Baya stop, as though paralysed, and gaze blankly across the room.

Monclaire turned to follow his line of vision.

Colonel Jeux was in the doorway.

He was leaning against the wall, a thin smile on his lined face. He returned Baya’s gaze for several long moments.

Then Jeux said: “I heard, major. I ought to have guessed that you would try something like this…”

He took a few steps towards them. They were slightly unsteady steps. The movement eased the tension. Baya gave a short laugh. Obviously it was intended to indicate an untroubled conscience, but it was not convincing.

“ Mon colonel , I am glad you have come. I was about to speak to you in your office. You…”

“Don’t lie, major. I’ve just told you—I’ve heard enough to know what you were about to do. I think I can guess what was in the message you were going to send. But I would like to read it. Give it to me!”

“You—you’re mistaken, mon colonel . And the message… it is of no importance. I can explain if…”

“Give it to me—”

There was something surprising about the way Jeux repeated the order.

All his former flabby indecision had gone. The words were snapped out with harsh and utter finality. And his posture, too, had changed. Suddenly he was erect again. The body tense and strong. The mouth a thin unrelenting line. The eyes steady and cold.

Watching him, Monclaire felt a surge of surprise and gladness. He recalled reading somewhere that when great nations are in their decline they always—just once—achieve something that is a flashback to their former glories. Could it not be so with individual men, too? Was it not happening now to Jeux? Yes, it was. For here was the almost forgotten Jeux. The Jeux who had existed before brandy had rotted his mind.

Temporarily, at least, the travail of the years had been lifted from him. It had needed the lash of betrayal and humiliation to do it. But it had been done.

And Baya obviously realised that he was no longer confronted by a drunken fool. He shuffled uncomfortably. As though under a mesmeric compulsion, his hand went to his tunic pocket

But, with an effort, he restrained it half way.

“I cannot hand over the message here, colonel. I—I will do so in your office, where I can explain privately.”

“Don’t bother. You have told me enough. Major Baya, you will not have the opportunity to send any messages of any sort to Algiers. I will give orders that only signals bearing my signature are to be transmitted.”

Baya’s face contused to a deep red.

“I cannot accept that. I am the adjutant and…”

“You are no longer adjutant. You are relieved of all duties.”

“You have no power to do that. You will have to make a recommendation to the High Command first.”

“I shall make my recommendation, major. And it will be approved. But meantime my decision stands.”

Like most crafty men, Baya was prone to bursts of hysteria when duplicity failed. He produced one now. His words rushed out in an uncontrolled verbal torrent.

“You will suffer for this, colonel… Algiers will know what’s been happening here… I’ll tell them there’s been slaughter in the streets today because of Monclaire’s stupidity. I’ll tell them that the garrison is commanded by a drunkard… Yes… a drunkard! That’s what you are, and it’s time you were told…”

Jeux thumbed open the cover of his holster. He extracted his pistol and aimed the heavy weapon at Baya’s chest. As Baya saw it he lapsed into astonished silence.