“Which remains to be seen,” Mallory said.
De Beaumont turned and indicated a tattered battle stan-dard hanging above the fireplace. “An ancestor of mine car-ried that himself at Waterloo when his standard-bearer was shot. It was with me at Dien-Bien-Phu. I managed to hang on to it during all those bitter months of captivity. You will notice it bears the motto of the de Beaumonts.”
Who dares, wins ,” Mallory said.
“I would remember that if I were you.”
“Something you seem to have forgotten,” Mallory said. “When that ancestor of yours picked up that standard at Waterloo he didn’t carry it forward on his own. There was a regiment of guards backing him up all the way and I seem to remember that at Dien-Bien-Phu you commanded a regiment of colonial paratroops. But, then, that’s France I’m speaking about. The real France. Something you wouldn’t know anything about.”
For a moment something glowed in de Beaumont’s eyes, but he pushed back his anger and forced a smile. Take him below, Jacaud. He and Guyon can spend their last hours together trying to solve an impossible problem. The thought will amuse me.”
Jacaud gave Mallory a push towards the door. As he opened it, de Beaumont said calmly: “And, Jacaud, when I next see Colonel Mallory I expect him to be in his present condition. You understand?”
Jacaud turned sharply, a growl rising in his throat. For a moment he seemed about to defy de Beaumont and then he turned suddenly and pushed Mallory forward.
They went down the spiral staircase, Mallory leading, all the time aware of the machine-gun at his back. The gallery was in half-darkness, the fire a heap of glowing ashes, as they crossed the hall and went through the door which led to the living-quarters and the cave.
At the end of a long whitewashed corridor they found Marcel sitting on a chair outside a door, reading a news-paper, the revolver stuck in his belt.
He looked up at Jacaud, eyes raised enquiringly. “When?”
“This evening when I get back from the mainland.” Jacaud turned to Mallory and patted the sub-machine-gun. A red glow seemed to light up behind the cold eyes. “Personally, Colonel Mallory.”
Mallory moved into the cell. As the door clanged behindhim, Guyon swung his legs to the floor and sat looking at him.
He grinned suddenly. “You wouldn’t by any chance have such a thing as a cigarette on you, would you?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
COUNCIL OF WAR
“Ihad lost all belief or interest in right or wrong. In the end you believe only in your friends, the comrade who had his throat cut the previous night. That was what six years in Algeria had done for me.”
Raoul Guyon stood by the small barred window gazing into the night. When he turned he looked tired.
“And this is why you joined the O.A.S.?” Mallory said.
Guyon shook his head. “I was in Algiers in 1958. So much blood that I was sickened by it. There was a young Moorish girl. For a little while we tried to shelter from the storm together. They found her on the beach one morning, stripped, mutilated. I had to identify the body. The fol-lowing day I was badly wounded and sent back to France to convalesce. When I returned my comrades seemed to have the only solution. To bring back de Gaulle.”
“You took part in the original plot?”
Guyon shrugged. “I was on the fringe. Just one more junior officer. But to me de Gaulle stood for order out of chaos. Afterwards most of us were posted to other units. I spent five months on patrol with the Camel Corps in the Hoggar.”
“And did you find what you were looking for?”
“Almost,” Guyon said. “There was a day of heat and thirst when I almost had it, when the rocks shimmered and the mountains danced in a blue haze and I was a part of it. Almost, but not quite.”
“What happened after that?”
“I was posted back to Algeria to one of the worst districts. A place of barbed wire and fear, where violence erupted like a disease and life was no longer even an act of faith. I was wounded again last year just before General Chile’s abort-ive coup. Not seriously, but enough to give me a legitimate excuse to put in a request to be placed on unpaid leave. The night before I left, Legrande visited me in my hotel room. Offered me work with theDeuxieme Bureau.”