Read The Rat Patrol 4 - Two-Faced Enemy Online
Authors: David King
The Rat Patrol 4 - Two-Faced Enemy (30 page)
"Cochon!" Wilson spat at Nicodeme. "Troy, did you find any of this fuel?"
"It was the first dump we destroyed, at an oasis about twenty-five miles south," Troy said coldly. Maybe the colonel had been provoked into his actions, but Troy could not forget that he had been willing to believe the Rat Patrol had defected, nor could he forgive him for arresting Ray and Laurentz. He should have suspected deception. "We also killed about two dozen Arabs, eleven of a party that attacked us on the route and about a dozen who were working at the oasis loading the fuel on Jerry trucks."
"Take this pig away," Wilson told the MP, pointing at Nicodeme. "Lock him in a solitary cell."
"But colonel," Nicodeme wheedled, "I told you the truth. You promised to let me go."
"I made no bargain," Wilson said scornfully. He turned to Troy when Nicodeme had been led away. "You may as well know the rest. It was I who bombed the wine cellar when no one would release the barred door."
"It was I who told them to bar it and open it to no one," Troy said and jutted his jaw. "Are you ready to release your prisoners?"
"Troy," the colonel said pleadingly.
Troy stared out the window. Wilson picked up the phone and told Peilowski to bring in de la Croix and his niece. When the door opened, Troy stood, saw Ray hesitate, then she flew across the room into his arms.
"Troy, Troy," she said with a catch in her voice and he held her tight.
Laurentz waddled across the room and Troy released one arm to shake his hand. Wilson cleared his throat. Troy put both arms around Ray again and she clung to him.
"Sergeant," Wilson said to one of the MPs who were standing at the door. "If you two will leave the room, please, and close the door?" When the door was shut, he cleared his throat again. "I have made a grievous error. Many grievous errors, I fear. It is difficult for me to say this because no one could feel worse about it than I. Mademoiselle, Monsieur, I apologize humbly. The damage I caused to your establishment I can repair and shall do so personally. The damage I have done to you is not so easy to repair. With your permission, I shall try to show you I am your friend. I have acted hastily in many matters. I confess the Germans in the jeeps, dressed as the Rat Patrol, led me to believe you had defected, Troy. I apologize to you for ever doubting your loyalty and I shall do so individually to each member of the Rat Patrol." He swallowed. "That is all I can say."
Laurentz blinked his melancholy eyes twice and walked to the desk with his hand outstretched. Wilson stood and grasped it.
"Colonel," Laurentz said shaking his hand vigorously, "you are a gentleman. The incident is forgotten. I shall be proud to call you friend."
"I, too, Colonel Wilson," Ray said, stepping from Troy's arms and going to the desk. She gave Wilson her hand. "Perhaps if my temper had not been so quick, I might have been able to tell you that Troy could not possibly be in town. He never would have permitted your military policemen to carry me away as they did."
It was Troy's turn. Abruptly, he grinned. "I wonder what I would have done if I had been in your place," he said.
Wilson smiled and held out his hand. Troy stepped to the desk and shook it.
Troy walked to the door with one arm around Ray and the other over Laurentz' shoulder.
"Oh, Troy," Wilson called as he took his arm from Laurentz and opened the door.
Troy turned.
"I believe you have a free day that was interrupted," Wilson said.
"I'd meant to take this afternoon," Troy said.
"I meant tomorrow," Wilson said with a pleasant smile.
18
It was a pleasant evening, neither hot nor cold but balmy, the kind of evening when most people leave windows and doors open, but the door to the Fat Frenchman's was closed and barred from the inside. The window was not shuttered and light showed from fat white candles that were burning in hanging wrought iron fixtures, which also were new. It was, in fact, the evening of the grand re-opening. The wine cellar was back in business.
Several tables had been pushed together in the middle of the room to make a long board that was covered with a red and white checkered cloth. Six men were seated at the table, one a civilian, the others military personnel, although none wore insignia of rank on collar or sleeve. Laurentz de la Croix in a short-sleeved white sport shirt sat at the head of the table and Colonel Dan Wilson at the foot. Troy and Tully occupied one side and Moffitt and Hitch the other. Ray had insisted on serving the dinner she now was preparing and the men were enjoying cocktails, American style. Martinis. The glass in front of each man had just been filled to within a quarter inch of the brim and a pitcher of martinis sat on a tray at the middle of the table. The tray also contained several dozen additional cocktail glasses.
"Colonel Dan Wilson," Laurentz said, standing and slightly inclining his glass. "Good soldier, good man, good friend."
The Rat Patrol stood as a man, toasted their commanding officer and then all crashed their glasses against the side wall from which the tables had been removed.
Hitch poured drinks in new glasses.
"Laurentz de la Croix," Wilson said, rising and smiling. "Good citizen, good man, good friend."
Again the glasses shattered against the wall and Hitch provided cocktails in new glasses.
"Success," Troy said, standing and presenting his glass first to Wilson and then to Laurentz.
Once more, broken glass rattled to the paved floor.
Laurentz and Wilson stood at the same time, looked at each other and both laughed.
"You start it," Wilson said.
"The Rat Patrol," Laurentz said.
"Loyal soldiers, exceptional men, great friends," Wilson finished.
When the glasses were broken and they all were seated, Hitch poured another round and looked at the six cocktail glasses remaining on the tray.
"Let's settle down to some serious drinking," he said.
Troy leaned back and sipped his cocktail. He was contented. He was with men he liked and he felt at home. Nothing was urgent. Being contented was a strange emotion for him. Action always had been a tonic but now he was happy and fat. Except for a routine patrol now and then, the Rat Patrol was enjoying a life of ease in a land of milk and honey. They'd never had it so good.
"The Germans who impersonated your Rat Patrol," Laurentz said, "the ones who created all the trouble at the time of the seige. Did you execute them, Colonel?"
"No," Wilson said reflectively. "I'll admit I was irrationally upset at the time. It was because I thought it was my own Rat Patrol who were committing atrocities. When I re-examined the events unemotionally, I realized the Germans had been doing exactly what I require of my men behind the enemy lines. The carbon copy Rat Patrol are in a POW camp. To have executed them would have been to invite similar treatment for Troy, Moffitt, Hitch and Tully." He glanced at each with a faint smile as he spoke his name. "If they ever get back to work."
"Wasn't there a rather nasty French chap involved in all of this?" Moffitt asked, closing one eye and squinting at the fishy eye of the olive in his glass.
"Nicodeme?" Wilson said. "Despicable character. He is in custody but hasn't been brought to trial. The Arab, Ali Abu, was the Jerry contact in Sidi Beda. He has not been apprehended and we want to use Nicodeme's testimony against him. As long as Nicodeme isn't sentenced and thinks we'll bargain, he is willing to appear as a witness against the Arab. I can promise you, it will be a long war for Nicodeme."
"And the German leader?" Laurentz inquired. "Was he captured?"
"Dietrich?" Wilson said with a short laugh. "He succeeded in reaching his base at Sidi Abd with a few of his men, but I think you can eliminate him from the rest of the campaign. Can you imagine the reaction of the field marshal, Rommel, to the battle of Sidi Beda? It cost the enemy a hundred pieces of armor, not to mention such items as Nebelwerfers and prisoners. No, you can cross that one off."
The meal, like the cocktails, was American style and amazing. A tossed salad, steaks and fried potatoes with onions. That was it. No dessert, just coffee with brandy, which only went to show what a smart gal Ray was. A man wanted food, not fluffy trimmings. Troy hadn't known much of a home for a long while but the meal was nostalgic. It tasted of Main Street, Home Town, the joint with the sign behind the counter: Pies Like Mother Used to Make. How could a French-Arab girl in Sidi Beda, Libya, North Africa, have known exactly what would hit the spot?
"The grand re-opening," Wilson said, suitably and sensibly standing after the conversation had gone drowsy, "was an unmitigated success. And now, if you young people will excuse me, I must return to headquarters and see about this business of a war."
Moffitt spoke for Tully and Hitch. "There's a game at the barracks to which we are committed. We hold most of the chits."
Laurentz remembered the widow of a former French official who recently had returned to the town.
"I'll help with the dishes," Troy said to Ray.
It was crazy, mixed-up, unnatural, he thought after he'd swept the mountain of broken glass from the floor and carried up a tray of dishes, that looking at the back of a woman in an apron standing at a sink washing dishes should make a man feel warmly happy. He kissed the back of her neck.
"Thank you, Troy," she said, turning and smiling devotedly, patting the back of his hand with her soapy fingers.
Suddenly he was uncomfortable. The kitchen, the apartment, was too small. This girl, this wonderful girl was too close to him. She was making a domesticated animal of him. He finished the plate he was wiping and walked out on the balcony. Above, the purple sky was filled with stars, but it was vast and uncluttered. He wanted to be out on the desert under this sky, surrounded by empty nothingness. He wanted to start suddenly at a faint noise, roll to his feet with his tommy-gun at his hip. He wanted to feel the racing jeep bounding under his feet, while his shoulders shivered from the Browning jerking in his hands.
Ray came out to the balcony and stood by his side. "Ray," he began.
Feet pounded up the stairs, ran through the foyer and across the tiled floor of the living room. Tully flung onto the balcony.
"Sarge," he said excitedly. "Wilson wants you at HQ right away and he's hopping mad."
"He knows I'm not on duty and this time he knows where I am," Troy said irritably. "What's it all about?"
"He wants us to take out a patrol right away," Tully said. "Dietrich's on the prowl again."
Troy turned to Ray and kissed her tenderly. "Be careful, take care of yourself, I'll be back when I can," he said softly and happily. Everything was in place again.
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