Dutch Courage (30 page)

‘The mothers were out throwing insults and rubbish at Clarkson's house, of course,' said Tom.

‘And hefty stones at you. Ironically, their fathers' ranting did what our girls were aiming for. Anneka and Kylie grew so agitated they broke down and admitted Stacey had given them money to say what they had, and had promised not to tell on them.' Max picked up a slice of cake. ‘Maggie's name has not been mentioned, or even hinted at, so tell her not to worry on that score.'

Tom sighed. ‘I've been a bit hard on her lately. You've no notion how proud I am of her sense of morality.'

‘Has she?' Max asked carefully.

‘Yes. We've reached an understanding on several subjects.' He frowned, puckering the dressing. ‘Girls are so tricky to rear.'

‘Which is why Nora does most of it,' responded Max with amusement.

Tom gave a reluctant laugh. ‘Guilty as charged.'

They drank tea in companionable silence for a few minutes. Then Max gave the big news he had come to impart, revealing that a chance encounter with Preston Phipps had triggered the possible meaning of Collier's flogging. Skimming over events that had led to that providential meeting, Max then recounted the interview with Lance Corporal Jones, a large man with a Welsh accent.

‘We'll bring in Peat and Flint when they return to base tonight. Jones has landed them heavily in it, so we'll have no problem bringing a solid case against all three. In Jones' statement he admits they blamed Collier for not getting the equipment promised by General Phipps, and when they were swamped with tales of his heroism in the media their aggro grew. The award of an MC added further fuel to the flames of their anger. Even out in Kandahar they vowed to sort him out one day.

‘As soon as they arrived back here they began to devise a plan. They'd phone him with an enigmatic message to arrange a meeting. They would grab and hood him, then drive to the far side of the base to give him a going over and leave him to walk back as best he could. Flint had been a joy rider in his early teens and knew how to steal a car.'

Max was halted at that point by Tom's account of the call from Klaus Krenkel of the
Polizei
. ‘Did Jones and co. try to force Margot off the road?'

Max shook his head. ‘The first and only time they were in Maine's car was last Tuesday evening. Flint thought using a vehicle owned by a member of the squadron added piquancy to their plan. He chose one at random, unaware that Maine wouldn't be blamed because he was in the UK.'

‘So she must have been targeted by the German weirdo.' Tom gave a short laugh. ‘The one lie she didn't tell us! I guess she knew someone in the squadron owned a blue Audi, and jumped to a conclusion that set us off along a dead end. Life is eternally entertaining, isn't it?' He leaned back wearily. ‘You say these three riflemen vowed even before they returned to Germany to bash Collier?'

‘They did, but their initial plan was simply to rough him up, possibly leave him with very sore balls.'

‘But Pomeroy's death that day made the whole exercise more deadly?'

Max nodded. ‘Fuelled by alcoholic bravado Jones came up with the notion of whipping their victim until his back was as raw and agonizing as Pomeroy's had been. And the basic punch-up turned into a lambasting with a handkerchief wrapped around a fistful of gravel. Far more effective as a punishment.

‘The revised plan went ahead. They weren't aware of Ray Fox's sideline, of course, which aided their ruse to get Collier to their RV. Flint had appropriated Maine's Audi and they drove to the REME workshops with a hooded Collier in the boot. That's where the plan backfired. Far from reducing his back to pulp, they had to abandon the attack because he collapsed. He's a big, heavy man. They couldn't hold him upright once he was unconscious, so they decided to dump him in the road and scarper.'

Max picked up his half empty mug and took a short drink of tea. ‘Jones said when they'd sobered up having relieved their anger, they realized they'd lost control of the situation and maybe
killed
their victim. Remorse soon faded when they heard he was being treated in the Medical Centre, and that we were swarming over the AAC lads. They were sharp enough to know we'd find evidence in the boot of the Audi, and it added to their revised glee that that would definitely concentrate our attentions on the squadron. Not for a minute did they believe we'd ever get on to them, so they hadn't bothered to consolidate a defence strategy.'

Max smiled and leaned back in his chair. ‘Case solved. Connie's female sympathy and apparent understanding undermined Jones very quickly. Funny how very big men often break under gentle questioning faster than small men. Connie Bush is a first-rate interviewer.'

There was a short silence before Tom said, ‘There's one point left to explain.'

‘Yes? What's that?'

‘What did you go to check in the UK?'

Max got to his feet. ‘You look knackered. I think you should have a rest or Nora will be after my guts. Enjoy your Easter leave with the grandparents and return fighting fit.' He pulled some Euros from his pocket. ‘Buy Maggie an extra chocolate egg and tell her she's well and truly her father's daughter.'

The day before Good Friday. The team had finished collating all evidence in the Collier case, ready to present to Colonel Trelawney after Easter. Jones, Peat and Flint faced trial, a prison sentence and discharge from the Royal Cumberland Rifles. Sadly, nothing would ever convince them Sam Collier was blameless. They would tell the story even to their grandsons, and still believe it.

Max had sent the rest of his team off and was about to leave Headquarters himself, when Charles Clarkson walked into his office. The Medical Officer looked like a man who had had little sleep. He was dressed in a dark suit with a light raincoat over it to protect him from the showers alternating with sunny periods.

‘I'm on my way to the airport. I'll be in Portugal tonight with my family. Sergeant Maximus knows how to contact me, if needed.' He offered his hand. ‘I owe you for getting at the truth and establishing my innocence.'

Max gripped his hand. ‘We're compelled to investigate any charge, regardless of our personal convictions. I'm sorry you're leaving us. Every success in your new posting.'

‘Time to move on, perhaps. Liaising with you has been an education, Max. Goodbye . . . and thanks.'

Max sat for a few minutes after Clarkson left. The base was losing a first-rate doctor because a young girl had allowed her hormones to run riot. So often with that type of case there was a ‘no smoke without fire' attitude that remained despite a not guilty verdict. He hoped the Clarksons would settle happily elsewhere after this unpleasant affair. He also hoped the man's replacement would be of equally high standard. SIB frequently worked alongside a medical officer, so a good rapport was a bonus. Max and Clarkson had had their ups and downs, but they had respected each other.

He locked his safe, his office door and the main door before setting the security alarm and walking to his car. Because Tom was on leave he had to remain on stand-by while others enjoyed the Easter break. He might drive out to the river to take out his skiff on Sunday, as he usually did. Rowing was one sport his father had never taken up. Was that why he had?

His room in the Mess seemed no more welcoming than it ever had, but he was getting used to it. There would be few members dining in tonight, which suited Max well enough, although the successful result in the Collier case had brought friendly approaches from men who had hitherto kept their distance. It had also brought an invitation to dine with the officers of 678 Squadron next week.

Sam Collier was due to be discharged from the Medical Centre on Monday. Max knew Rex Southerland was aware of Collier's hang-up over captivity, because it was in his report on Ray Fox's blackmail activities. As the commander of 678 Squadron, Southerland would have to take whatever action he thought fit on that score. Max believed a few sessions with the psycho boys would probably sort that out. He had no idea who or what would sort out that intense marriage.

He had not seen Collier since telling him his attackers had been arrested. The young pilot had seemed to be still in a state of detachment, uninterested and uncaring until he heard why he had been beaten and dumped in the road. Max could not pinpoint the emotion showing on that bruised face, but it was a dark one. Although his professional dealings with Collier were at an end, he would attempt to keep track of his future.

After showering and dressing for dinner, Max called Livya for their usual long exchange of news and sweet nothings. She told him she would drive to her parents' home for Easter.

‘No chance of Steve McQueen arriving on a Harley Davidson as he did at Christmas?' she teased.

‘I wish.'

‘Our venerable chief is highly chuffed that you've removed his daughter's fear and anxiety over the attack on her husband. He seems immune to the probability that he was the indirect cause.'

‘He would be,' grunted Max. ‘Not a man I warmed to at all.'

‘On that subject, I must warn you that Saturday's papers, and almost certainly the TV news, will carry a full account of the case against the MoD being brought by wives and families of RCR troops serving in war zones. You'll have reporters swarming all over you tomorrow. Can you keep Collier's name out of it?'

‘Not up to me, Livya. The Garrison Commander controls media activity on base, but there are always leaks. It's impossible to monitor private phone calls. Even “Daddy” can't do that.'

There was a short silence from her, then she said carefully, ‘Andrew has to come over there for a two-day conference next week. We'll be overnighting a mere seventy Ks from you. He thinks it would be nice if you could join us for dinner.'

Max was taken aback. Did he really want to do this?

‘There might be a heavy case under way.'

Another silence from her. Then, ‘A hand is being held out. If you don't take it now, you never will.'

He thought quickly. His plan for himself and Livya, if successful, must bring closer contact with his father. Surely her wish for him to accept this invitation meant she shared his plan for their future. Warmth invaded him, and his tone softened.

‘I'll come.'

Sam walked slowly and cautiously from the hospital. Energetic movement was still painful; headaches were frequent and debilitating. They had discharged him from the Medical Centre a day early because Margot had undergone yet another miscarriage. He had bottles of pills, tubs of antiseptic cream, and an appointment with Dr Culdrow seven days hence.

He should have used a taxi, but he had instead decided to drive Margot's Jaguar because the seats were so well-cushioned. He now sat behind the wheel absorbing what the gynaecologist had just told him. An abnormality that prevented his wife from carrying a foetus beyond fourteen weeks. Margot had just miscarried another man's child.

Twenty minutes passed before he could bring himself to turn the key in the ignition and drive out to the road that led to the autobahn. He could not go back to the house where they had lived together, where her costume designs lay around that room upstairs, where she had teased and excited him so lustily after doing the same with someone else in the Seychelles. He never wanted to enter that house again. He never wanted to see or touch her again.

Running up on to the autobahn, he headed away from the base, driving fast, his head pounding. He was on autopilot. His thoughts were wild. The roundabout had finally flung him off into the dark void.

He had stepped on to it at an airshow, and his life had been spinning faster and faster towards this final humiliation. He had given up membership of the Blue Eagles, a source of pride and delight. He had been reviled and insulted by her father until she had become obsessed with redesigning her ‘Samson' to Daddy's requirements. And he had still loved her.

Sierra Leone. Rape by crackhead kids armed with machetes and rifles because his blond hair excited them.

The first miscarriage after his safe return. Safe? He was haunted by the pain and degradation of that obscene act, while his procreative ability was being questioned. And he had still loved her.

A second miscarriage. The genes of a fish-and-chip lover must be below standard, of course.

On stand-by for Afghanistan. Nightmares about being taken captive again. The Taliban went far beyond rape. He could only still the shakes with alcohol.

Ray Fox and his demands. It would all come out and he would be grounded; a pilot once skilled enough to perform complicated manoeuvres before the public.

A vicious, calculated beating by ignorant oafs for something he had not done. As humiliating as the rape. Something sparked off by the man who had derided the weakling his daughter had married. And he had still managed to love her.

Until this final betrayal.

The road now cut through countryside bursting with the overture to Spring. Sam saw nothing but an empty road and the distant curve that ran beside the high brick wall of a large estate. He accelerated. A hundred metres from the curve he gripped the wheel steady and closed his eyes as the car hurtled towards the wall.

When he stamped on the brake and skidded with a scream of tyres to a halt, his eyes were still closed. The growing silence echoed the growing calmness within him as he sat contemplating his decision made during that hiatus between life and death. He was not yet ready to see how close he was to the wall.

Yorkshiremen did not give up. He could go back to the beginning. Rid himself of wife and father-in-law, thereby ridding himself of the resentment of his fellows. He could seek medical help for those nightmares. He could ride out the period of grounding, then take to the air again to prove how good a pilot he was. At twenty-six he had enough time to aim at a second crack at the Blue Eagles. Life was out there waiting for him to rejoin it.