Partisans (32 page)

‘Here's one who didn't.' He thought. ‘Well, hindsight, retrospect, yes. But I said only indirectly. Nobody would be stupid enough to use Carlos as a blackmail weapon. They'd find themselves with a double-edged sword in their hands. But, sure, he's part of it.'

‘Well?' She'd actually arrived at the stage where she had started shaking him, no mean feat with a person of Petersen's bulk. ‘What's the other part of it?'

‘I know, or I think I know, the other part of it. But I haven't any proof.'

‘Tell me what you think.'

‘You think because she's honest and good and true that she has led a blameless life, that she can't possibly have any guilty secrets?'

‘Go on.'

‘I don't think she's got any guilty secrets either. Unless you call having an illegitimate child a guilty secret, which I don't.'

She took her right hand away from his arm and touched her lips. She was shocked not by what he had said but because of its implications.

‘Carlos is a doctor.' He sounded tired and, for the first time since she had met him, he looked tired. ‘He qualified in Rome. Lorraine lived with him during the time she was Jamie Harrison's secretary. They have a son, aged two and a half. It's my belief that he's been kidnapped. I'll find out for sure when I have a knife at Cipriano's throat.'

She stared at him in silence. Two tears trickled slowly down her cheeks.

EIGHT

At nine o'clock the next morning Jablanica looked so much like an idealized Christmas postcard that it was almost unreal, untrue in its breathtaking beauty. The snow had stopped, the clouds were gone, the sun shone from a clear pale blue sky and the air on the windless slopes, where the trees hung heavy with snow, was crisp and pellucid and very cold. It required only the sound of sleighbells to complete the illusion. But peace on earth and goodwill to all men were the last considerations in the thoughts of those gathered around the breakfast table that morning.

Petersen, his chin on his hand and his coffee growing cold before him, was obviously lost in contemplation. Harrison, who showed remarkably little after-effects from the considerable amount of wine he had found necessary to drown his chagrin and bring himself once more face to face with reality, said: ‘A penny for them, Peter, my boy.'

‘My thoughts? They'd be worth a lot more than that to the people I'm thinking about. Not, may I add hastily, that they include any of those sitting around the table.'

‘And not only do you look pensive,' Harrison went on, ‘but I detect a slight diminution in the usual early morning ebullience, the sparkling cheer. You found sleep hard to come by? The change of beds, perhaps?'

‘As I sleep in a different bed practically every night in life that would hardly be a factor, otherwise I'd be dead by this time. Fact is, I was up nearly all night, with either George or Ivan, in the radio room. You couldn't possibly have heard it, but there was a long and violent thunderstorm during the night – that's why we have cloudless skies this morning – and both transmission and reception were close on impossible.'

‘Ah! That explains it. Would it be in order to ask who you were talking to during the long watches of the night?'

‘Certainly. No secrets, no secrets.' Harrison's expression of disbelief was only fleeting and he made no comment. ‘We had, of course, to contact our HQ in Biha
and warn them of the impending attack. That, alone, took almost two hours.'

‘You should have used my radio,' Michael said. ‘It's got a remarkable range.'

‘We did. It was no better than the other.'

‘Oh. Then perhaps you should have used me. After all, I do know that equipment.'

‘Of course you do. But, then, our people in Biha
don't know Navajo which is the only code you are familiar with.'

Michael looked at him, his mouth fallen slightly open. ‘How on earth did you know that? I mean, I've got no code books.' He tapped his head. ‘It's all up here.'

‘You sent a message just after Colonel Lunz and I had been talking to you. You may be a good radio operator, Michael, but otherwise you shouldn't be allowed out without a minder.'

Sarina said: ‘Don't forget I was there also.'

‘Two minders. I'll bet you never even checked to see if the room was bugged.'

‘Good God!' Michael looked at his sister. ‘Bugged! Did you – how could you have known we were going to stay –'

‘It could have been bugged. It wasn't. George was listening on the balcony.'

‘George!'

‘You talked in plain language. George said it wasn't any European language he'd ever heard. You had an American instructor. The Americans labour under the happy delusion that Navajo is unbreakable.'

‘Now you tell me,' George said. He seemed in no way upset.

‘Sorry. Busy. I forgot.'

‘Peter's expertise in espionage is matched only by his expertise in codes. The two go hand-in-glove. Makes up codes all the time. Breaks them, too. Remember he said the Germans had twice broken the
etnik code.
They
didn't. Peter gave them the information. Not that they know that. Nothing like spreading dissension among allies.' Harrison said: ‘How do you know the Germans didn't monitor and break your transmission last night?'

‘Impossible. Only two people know my codes – me and the receiver. Never use the same code twice. You can't break a code on a single transmission.'

‘That's fine. But – not trying to be awkward, old boy – will this information be of any use to your Partisans? Won't the Germans know that you've been kidnapped or disappeared or whatever and might pass this message on. If they did, surely they would change their plan of attack.'

‘Don't you think I have considered this, Jamie? You simply don't even begin to know the Balkans. How could you, after less than a couple of months? What do you know of the deviousness, the plotting and counter-plotting, the rivalries, the jealousies, the selfseeking, the total regard for one's own power base, the distrusts, the obsession for personal gain, the vast gulf between the Occidental and Byzantine minds? I don't think there's even a remote chance of the Germans finding out.

‘Consider. Who knows I've got the plans? As far as the Colonel is concerned, there are only two plans, he's got both and I've never seen a copy. Why should he think so? Metrovi
will have given him the name of Cipriano but I'll bet the Colonel has never heard of him and even if he has what's he going to tell him? Even if he did tell him Cipriano would be too smart to believe it was the Murge division – a commando unit like Ivan's never discloses their true identity. Again, apart from the fact that the Colonel's pride would probably stop him anyway from letting anyone know that his defences have been breached, he could be Machiavellian enough to want the Germans to be taken by surprise, not, of course in order that they should be defeated but that they should suffer severe casualties. Sure, he wants the Partisans destroyed but, when and if it happens, he wants the Germans out of the country. Basically, they're both his natural enemies.

‘And even if the Germans did eventually find out, so what? It's too late to change plans and, anyway, there
are
no other plans they could make. There
is
no alternative.'

‘I have to agree,' Harrison said. ‘They'll go ahead as planned. Forewarned, one takes it, is forearmed. A satisfactory night's work, no?'

‘It was unimportant. They would almost certainly have found out in any case. We have a considerable number of reliable contacts throughout the country. In the areas held by the Germans, Italians,
etniks and Ustaša – and that's most of the country – there are reliable solid citizens, or are so regarded by the Germans, Italians,
etniks and Ustaša, who, while cheerfully collaborating with the enemy, send us regular and up-to-date reports of the latest enemy troop movements. In other words, they are Partisan spies. Their reports are far from complete but enough to give Tito and his staff a fair indication of the enemy's intentions.'

‘I suppose that happens in every war,' Harrison said, ‘But I didn't know the Partisans had spies in the enemy's camp.'