Lomax nodded. “He was in the trenches during the last lot.”
“I think I’ll take it to bed with me,” Boyd said. “Find if he knows what he’s talking about, I’ll see you later.”
When he had gone, Lomax picked up a novel at random and leafed through it. It was one he had read before, but as always he was gripped by the narrative skill. It must have been an hour later when the curtains were pulled aside and Van Horn stepped through the french window.
He was carrying an old Gladstone bag, the leather scuffed and fraying, and he dropped it carelessly on the divan.
“Ah, there you are. What happened to your sergeant?”
“Gone to bed with a volume of your war poems. I hope you don’t mind?”
“Not as long as I get it back. You know, Lomax, for some strange reason, most people seem to think writers ought to distribute their books free.” He sighed. “My God, but it’s a pull up that hill out of town. I’m not as young as I was.”
His eyes were tired, the face lined with fatigue. He crossed to a cupboard in the corner, opened it and took down a bottle and two glasses. “The last of the gin.”
“Don’t waste it on me,” Lomax said. “I’m only passing through to the main bar at Shepheard’s, so to speak.”
Van Horn grinned and slumped down into the opposite chair. “Nonsense, this is something of an occasion. Not often I get a little civilised company.”
“Doesn’t Colonel Steiner count?” Lomax asked.
Van Horn raised his eyebrows. “Good heavens no! That’s strictly business. I let him beat me at chess once a week and then he feels morally bound to give me all the medical supplies I ask for.”
“We saw him getting into his car as we arrived,” Lomax said. “He looked surprisingly young to me.”
“Twenty-seven,” Van Horn said. “Badly wounded at Stalingrad and evacuated just before the Russians closed the circle. He’s got the Knight’s Cross besides all the usual things and they don’t give that away, you know.”
“He sounds formidable,” Lomax said. “Did you have any difficulty when you went into town?”
Van Horn shook his head. “Alexias had only arrived at The Little Ship about twenty minutes before we did. They got him up to bed and I had a look at his leg.”
“Is it bad?”
“Bad enough. I’ve set the bone, given him sulfa drugs.
He should be all right if he rests for a week or two. He certainly won’t be able to play an active part in your operation.”
“Is there any message?”
“Only that he hopes to arrange a meeting with various people tomorrow afternoon. Katina will be up to let us know when.”
“So he’s included you in?”
“I’m afraid so.” He poured himself another gin. “Katina was telling me you’re here to do something about the radar station they’ve set up in the main tower at the monastery.”
“It isn’t radar,” Lomax told him. “It’s a little gadget that selects a target electronically. All their planes or E-boats have to do is follow the beam and they can’t go wrong. They’ve been doing a lot of damage to our shipping lately.”
“But is it all that important? I thought they were losing the war anyway, particularly since the landings in Normandy last month.”
“There’s a faint chance of an invasion of Crete in the near future in which case this installation on Kyros could be a nuisance, but the Aegean is only a sideshow now, if that’s what you mean. I don’t think anything that happens here can affect the ultimate course of the war one iota.” He grinned wryly and swallowed some of his gin. “On the other hand, they’ve got to keep us busy, haven’t they?”
“Now I find that rather an interesting observation,” Van Horn said. “What were you doing before the war?”
“University, a little journalism,” Lomax shrugged. “Nothing very much.”
“And then the war came along with an easy answer to all your problems.” He nodded at the medal ribbons on Lomax’s tunic. “It would appear you’ve had an active time of it since.”