THE HEART OF DANGER (47 page)

Yes,

like a blow from a sledgehammer .. . HEADMASTER/SALIKA VILLAGE

SCHOOL:

Salika (Serb) is twin village to Rosenovici (Croat), 1 mile apart.

(Capture of Rosenovici by Salika men, who were responsible for

killing

of wounded and DM.) Found praying at night in Rosenovici mass grave

site, 'a place of evil'. He helped me because 'you have the power

to

hurt the madness'. Educated, intelligent, early sixties, with

personal

bravery to condemn the war crime killing of DM and wounded. In the

past

he had carried food to KD (see below), but stopped after threatened

denunciation by wife. A man standing alone against his own society.

Recently removed from head mastership of school, now isolated in

Salika, recently beaten by para militaries Took me to meet KD, the

only known eyewitness to the killings (other than participants).

Was

due to accompany me and KD into Rosenovici, following evening after

meeting, but did not show. An extremely brave man. KATICA DUBELJ:

(See KD above). Aged 84. KD is only prime eyewitness to death of

DM.

Now lives in cave, 1 mile approx, in woodland NNW from Rosenovici.

Quite appalling conditions, diet of roots and berries, no hygiene.

All

other former residents of Rosenovici are refugees, or dead. Speaks

no

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English, cannot write. Because Headmaster did not return, no signed

affidavit of her evidence. Unable to communicate with her except

by

sign, shown photograph of DM, recognized, kissed it. Took me in

darkness from woods into Rosenovici village. Showed me from her

house

the route used by para militaries to take DM and wounded to mass grave

site. Route passed directly in front of her window, which afforded

clear view of grave site. Paramilitaries commanded by MS (see

below).

KD mimed action. DM carried two wounded, kicked 1 paramilitary. DM

and wounded made to wait in field while bulldozer dug pit. DM and

wounded forced into pit. DM, holding her boy, last in line as wounded

knifed, beaten, shot. Final effort made to separate DM from her boy,

unsuccessful as DM fought para militaries back. DM and boy killed

by

MS (see below) after DM kicked him. KD escaped when I was captured

and

taken to Salika village. My opinion, KD is a most reliable witness

with total recall of events. MILAN STANKOVlC .. . Henry Carter felt

so

old. So old and so tired and so sad. They were all trapped by young Dome Mowat, who was dead. All trapped, Mary and Penn, Benny and Ham

and the eyewitnesses, and the Headmaster and this most extraordinary

old woman .. . and himself. All flies in the skein web of the spider

that was Dome Mowat. "Would you like some more coffee, Mr. Carter?"

The supervisor called across the Library floor. "They didn't have

it

in my day, but then that sort of music would never have been allowed

in

Library in my day .. . I don't suppose you've any brandy .. . ? We

all

demand the truth, but we very seldom stop to consider the consequences

of knowing the truth .. ." There was brandy, cheap and Spanish, kept in a locked drawer of the supervisor's desk, hidden from the day

shift,

and poured for him into his coffee mug. They were all looking at

him,

each young man and each young woman on the night shift, as though

he

were just a sad, tired, old desk warrior, trapped in nostalgia by

a

file. She came very quietly down the stairs, but then she knew which

step creaked, carrying her bag and her shoes. They were still

talking,

still discussing her, in the dining room, as she went silently back

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into her kitchen. '.. . You've got a chance now, Charles, and you'd better damn well take it. Like someone's overboard and you go into

the

water to get them out, double damn quick. You've got a chance now

to

rescue her .. . My nephew was down in Bosnia, driving Warriors, he

said

that standards of common decency don't exist, it's a cruel madhouse.

We

should all turn our backs to it until they come to their senses, and

so

should Mary .. . She's such a lovely woman and the strain she's been

under, the stress, so many years, it's been pitiful to see ... I tell

you, Charles, each time I came here, when I left I'd say to Libby,

thank God that child's not ours .. ." Mary took the last saucepan

off

the Aga's hot surface, and she closed up the Aga's lids. The dogs,

slavering mouths, were sitting either side of the table and the tray

with the cutlets was between them. She covered up the vegetables.

She

took her coat from the hook behind the door, and the keys for her

car.

'.. . Do you think, Charles, that Mary needs a hand? Jocasta's such a

help .. . Emily's always there when I need her .. ." Mary took a

sheet

from the memory pad. She wrote, "Gone away. Dorrie's business.

Back

soon. Don't ever let those bastards and bitches into our house

again.

Mary." It was Charles's business maxim, never to explain, never to apologize. She left the note under the gravy boat, where he'd see

it,

when he came searching .. . She wondered how long it would take them,

the stupid puerile bastards and the malicious scavenging bitches,

before they came to offer help, and she wondered whether Judy and

Liz

would have beaten them to the lamb cutlets. She was drawn back, a

last

time, to look at the photograph in her den room. Mary said, "Darling, understand me, I am so sorry .. . and I am so proud." She slipped

out,

carrying her bag and her coat, through the kitchen door, closing it

carefully after her. She would drive away through the village, leave

it behind her. Behind her would be the garden of the Manor House

where

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she had that afternoon picked spring flowers for the lounge

arrangements, and behind her would be the brick cottage with the

climbing wisteria where the old widow with the varicose veins lived

whom she had visited that afternoon, and behind her would be the

smiling greeting of the butcher where she had bought her meat that

afternoon, and her neighbours and her friends who had been a part

of

her life that afternoon. All behind her. There was a bitter wind

on

her face, a cleansing wind. When he had no audience then he hated

to

be alive. Sometimes the drink made Ham morose and self-pitying, and

sometimes it made him loud and aggressive. He sat on the floor of

the

hotel room and the Dragunov rifle with the big telescopic sight was

on

the carpet near his stretched legs, and he held loose to the bottle's

neck and the bottle was going down. He felt such morose self-pity

because he was alone and they ignored him. They were on the wide

bed.

He could see Penn's head, and he might have been sleeping, and he

might

just have been lying still with his eyes closed, and he could see

the

fingers of the German woman playing smooth patterns on the skin of

Penn's face. Penn was his nightmare. When he was alone, his

nightmare

was capture, and capture was torture. They always tortured the

foreigners. He could see Penn's face, where her fingers made the

patterns, and his face was the start of the torture. There were many

nightmares for Ham, when he was alone .. . Torture was the worst but

the fears, when he was alone, competed with torture. The small kid

in

the tower block, his father long gone, with the acne, bullied and

rejected. His Karen holding tight to his Dawn and carrying the

suitcase to the door of the married quarters house and wearing the

bruise he had given her with his fist, and her not looking back as

she

walked to the taxi, and his bawling after her because he was rejected.

His "Sunray', commanding officer of 3rd Battalion, Parachute

Regiment,

reading the riot act at the depot in Aldershot, telling him it

wouldn't

go to court but that his services were no longer required, rejected.

Him being told, the bastard sneering, that he didn't fit into the

scene

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at Personal Security Ltd (Bodyguards), wasn't smart enough with the

clients, didn't keep his mouth shut enough with the clients, going

at

the end of the week, rejected. His getting pissed up in the bunker

at

Osijek, and the crap guy Howard needling him because he had the

photograph of his Karen and his Dawn, and the gun pulled to shut the

bastard up, and the shot in the bunker blasting his ears and the blood

on his body, and the other Internationals chucking him out and letting

him know that they didn't want him when they headed for Bosnia,

rejected. The nightmares of rejection pushed close to the worst

nightmare, when he was alone .. . And the man on the bed with the

woman, he was different. The man, Penn, listened to what he said,

with

no shitty sneers. The man on the bed thanked him. Penn didn't shout at him, didn't rubbish him. There hadn't been officers like Penn

at 3

Para, hadn't been management like Penn at Personal Security Ltd

(Bodyguards), hadn't been commanders like Penn in the

Internationals.

Penn listened, and Penn thanked him, no other bastard did. Because

he

was close to Penn, Ham felt safe from the nightmares .. . And he

believed what Penn told him .. . believed that Penn would take the

flight out in the afternoon, when he'd slept and sobered, and go find

his Dawn and his Karen. He thought Penn the best man he ever knew

.. .

"Have you any bloody idea what the time is?" Georgie Simpson said miserably, "It's past one here .. ." "And if you didn't know it, there

is a time difference between London and Zagreb. I have 2.17, it is

2.17 in the morning." He could hear, down the telephone line, a baby crying. "I'm sorry ... I was told to speak to you personally. They seemed to think it urgent. I was told it wasn't to go by telex ..

."

"So damned urgent that it couldn't wait till the morning?" He ignored

sarcasm by habit. And Georgie Simpson had never been elevated to

the

responsibility of running a field station, and he had never ceased

to

wonder at the goddamn arrogance of field officers abroad, wearing

a

first secretary's cover. It was not the moment to let it be known

that

his own office, from which he had telephoned Zagreb at two-hour

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intervals from eleven o'clock the previous morning, had the heating

off

and was cold as the grave. "You weren't in your office, and neither your secretary nor your wife knew when you were returning .. . I'm

sorry .. ." "We don't run by the clock here. I've actually been in

Sector East, not that you'd know where that is. I've actually been

in

a quite bloody unpleasant area, not that you'd understand it ... Well,

what's so important?" "Can we go to "secure" .. . ?" There were clicks on the line, a sharp bleep, then the voice level from Zagreb

was

at reduced volume. "Give it me .. ." Georgie Simpson gave the name of

William Penn, described the nature of his assignment, spoke of

Security

Service meddling .. . "I met him. I gave him a useless start point.

He

came to see me. I told him to let the dead sleep. I told him to

go

away." He felt he held the high ground, felt more cheerful. "Didn't listen to you, I'm afraid. Pity that you've been out of touch. If

you'd been in touch then you'd know of events in Sector North .. .

We

think he'll be back in Zagreb by now .. . Get him on the first plane,

will you?" "Yes." And it was not Georgie Simpson's business to concern himself with Penn. Not for him to consider the effect of

his

telephone call, on 'secure', to Zagreb. He was just the Joe who

passed

on messages from an unheated office in the small hours of the night.

But curiosity stirred in him. "You said that you'd met him?" "I did,

does it matter .. . Personally, I regard it as late for conversation

..

." "I just wondered about him ... I mean, what on earth did he do it

for?" "I am actually rather tired .. . They're a bit pathetic, these sort of people. Dig into their lives and you'll find angst ... are

you

following me? They're failures, and they're looking for a way back.

Myself, if I needed to up the dose of self-respect then I hope, dear

God, that I could find an easier way than trekking into Sector North.

It's a bad hook to be caught with because there are likely to be tears

at the end of the line .. . Don't ever bloody well ring me at this

time

280

again." "My apologies to your wife. Sorry I woke the baby .. ."

Ulrike thought the squat little man in the uniform that was a size

too

large, on the floor with the long-barrelled rifle beside his legs,