And now this. It was not just sexual desire, although she was enough of a woman to know that she wanted Marti-neau. But that was only part of it. It was what this strange, intense, tortured man offered. The promise of danger, excitement of a kind she had never even dreamed of before.
“Rather Interesting? Dear God!” Martineau poured himself a scotch. “Have you read any of the works of Heidegger, Jack?”
“I’m familiar with them.”
“An interesting man. He believed that for authentic living what was necessary was the resolute confrontation of death.”
“That sounds fine by me,” Munro said.
“Really?” Martineau laughed harshly. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s idiots like that who made me give up on philosophy.” He raised his glass and toasted them all. “Here we go then. Berkley Hall next stop.”
The firing range at Berkley Hall was in the basement. The armorer was an Irish Guards staff sergeant named Kelly, long past retirement and back in harness only because of the war. The place was brightly lit at the target end where cutout replicas of charging Germans stood against sandbags. Kelly and Sarah Drayton were the only people on the firing line. They’d given her battle dress to wear, slacks and blouse of blue serge, the kind issued to girls in the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force. She’d tied her hair up and tucked it inside the peaked cap, leaving her neck bare. It somehow made her look very vulnerable.
Kelly had various weapons laid out on the table. “Have you ever flred a handgun before, miss?”
“Yes,” she said, “in Malaya. My father was a rubber planter. He used to be away a great deal so he made sure I knew how to use a revolver. And I’ve flred a shotgun a few times.”
“Anything here that looks familiar?”
“That revolver.” She pointed. “It looks like the Smith and Wesson my father owned.”
“That’s exactly what it is, miss,” Kelly said. “Obviously in more normal circumstances you’d be given a thorough grounding in weaponry as part of your course, but in your case, there just isn’t time. What I’ll do is show you a few things, just to familiarize you with some basic weapons you’re likely to come across. Then you can fire a few rounds and that will have to do.”
“Fair enough,” she said.
“Rifles are simple,” he said. “I won’t waste your time with those. Here we’ve got two basic submachine guns. The British Sten in standard use with our own forces. This is a Mark IIS. Silenced version, developed for use with the French Resistance groups. Thirty-two rounds in that magazine. Automatic flre burns out the silencer, so use it semiautomatic or single burst. Like to have a go?”
It was surprisingly light and gave her no problems at all when she flred it from the shoulder, the only sound being the bolt reciprocating. She tore a sandbag apart to one side of the target she aimed at.
“Not much good,” she said.
“Few people are with these things. They’re good at close quarters when you’re up against several people and that’s all,” Kelly told her. “The other submachine gun’s German. An MP40. Popularly known as the Schmeisser. The Resistance use those a lot too.”
He went through the handguns with her then, both the revolvers and the automatics. When she tried with the Smith & Wesson, arm extended, she only managed to nick the shoulder of the target once out of six shots.
“I’m afraid you’d be dead, miss.”
As he reloaded, she said, “What about Colonel Marti-neau? Is he any good?”
“You could say that, miss. I don’t think IVe ever known anyone better with a handgun. Now, try this way.” He crouched, feet apart, holding the gun two-handed. “See what I mean?”
“I think so.” She copied him, the gun out in front of her in both hands.
“Now squeeze with a half breath of a pause between each shot.”
This time, she did better, hitting the target once in the shoulder and once in the left hand.
“Terrific,” Kelly said.
“Not if you consider she was probably aiming for the heart.”
Martineau had come in quietly behind them. He wore a dark polo neck sweater and black corduroy pants and he came to the table and examined the guns. “As I’m going to have to look after this infant and as time is limited, do you mind if I take a hand?”