Petersen shook his head. ‘My fault. I didn’t tell you.” He rose and went outside. The two girls were about forty yards away.
‘Corne back!’ he called. They stopped and turned around. He waved a peremptory arm. ‘Come back.’ They looked at each other and slowly began to retrace their steps.
George was puzzled. ‘What’s wrong with a harmless walk?’
Petersen lowered his voice so that he couldn’t be heard inside the hut. ‘I’ll tell you what’s wrong with a harmless walk.’ He told him briefly and George nodded. He stopped talking as the girls approached.
Sarina said: ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
Petersen nodded to a small outhouse some yards from the cabin. ‘If that’s what you’re looking for -‘
‘No. Just a walk. What’s the harm?’
‘Get inside.’
‘If you say so.’ Sarina smiled at him sweetly. ‘Would it kill you to tell us why?’
‘Other ranks don’t talk to officers in that tone. The fact that you’re females doesn’t alter a thing.’ Sarina had stopped smiling, Petersen’s own tone was not such as to encourage levity. ‘I’ll tell you why. Because I say so. Because you can’t do anything without my permission. Because you’re babes in the woods. And because I’ll trust you when you trust me.’ The two girls looked at each other in incomprehension then went inside without a word.
‘A bit harsh, I would have thought,’ George said.
‘You and your middle-aged susceptibility. Sure, it was a bit harsh. I just wanted them to get the message that they don’t wander without permission. They could have made it damned awkward for us.’
‘I suppose so. Of course I know they could. But they don’t know they could have. For them, you’re just a big, bad, bullying wolf and a nasty one to boot. Irrational, they think you are. Orders for orders’ sake. Never mind, Peter, when they come to appreciate your sterling qualities, they may yet come to love you.’
Inside the hut, Petersen said: ‘Nobody is to go outside, please. George and Alex of course. And, yes, Giacomo.’
Giacomo, seated on a bench by the table, lifted a drowsy head from his folded arms. ‘Giacomo’s not going anywhere.’
Michael said: ‘Not me?’
‘No.’
Then why Giacomo?
Petersen was curt. ‘You’re not Giacomo.’
Petersen woke two hours later and shook his head to clear it, As far as he could tell only the indefatigable George, a beaker of beer to hand, and the three captives were awake. Petersen got up and shook the others.
‘We’re going shortly. Time for tea, coffee, wine or what you will and then we’re off.’ He started to feed cordwood into the stove.
Major Massamo, who had kept remarkably quiet since his gag had been taken off, said: ‘We’re going with you?’
‘You’re staying here. Bound, but not gagged – you can shout your heads off but no-one will hear you.’ He raised a hand to forestall a protest. ‘No, you won’t perish of cold during the long watches of the night. You’ll be more than warm enough until help comes. About an hour after we leave I’ll phone the nearest army post – it’s only about five kilometres from here – and tell them where you are. They should be here within fifteen minutes of getting the call.’
‘You’re very kind, I’m sure.’ Massamo smiled wanly. ‘It’s better than being shot out of hand.’
‘The Royal Yugoslav Army takes orders from no-one, and that includes Germans and Italians. When our allies prove to be obstructive we’re forced to take some action to protect ourselves. But we don’t shoot them. We’re not barbarians.’
A short time later Petersen looked at the three freshly-bound captives. ‘The stove is stoked, there’s no possibility of sparks, so you won’t burn to death. You’ll certainly be freed inside an hour and a half. Goodbye.’
None of the three prisoners said “goodbye” to him.
Petersen led the way down the grassy steps and round the first corner. The truck was standing in a small clearing without a tree near it. Sarina said: ‘Ooh! A new truck.’
‘”Ooh! A new truck”,’ Petersen mimicked. ‘Which is exactly what you would have said when you’d come back to the hut after finding it. It’s as I say, you can’t trust babes in the woods. Major Massamo would just have loved to hear you say that. He would then have known that we had ditched the old truck and would have called off the hunt for the old truck – there must be a search under way by now – and, when freed, ask for a search for another missing truck and broadcast its details. It’s most unlikely, but it could have happened and then I’d have been forced to lumber myself with Massamo again.’
Giacomo said: ‘Someone might stumble across the old one?’
‘Not unless someone takes it into his head to go diving into the freezing Neretva River. And why on earth should anyone be daft enough to do that? I drove it off only a very small cliff but the water is deep there. A local fisherman told me.’
‘Can it be seen underwater?’
‘No. At this time of year the waters of the Neretva are brown and turgid. In a few months’ time, when the snow in the mountains melts, then the river runs green and clear. Who worries about what happens in a few months’ time?’
George said: ‘What kindly soul gave you this nice new model? Not, I take it, the Italian army?’
‘Hardly. My fisherman friend, who also happens to be the proprietor of the garage I stopped at on the way up here. The army has no local repair facilities here and he does the occasional repair job for them. He had a few civilian trucks he could have offered me but we both thought this was much more suitable and official.’
‘Won’t your friend be held answerable for this?’
‘Not at all. We’ve already wrenched off the padlock at the rear of the garage just in case some soldier happens by tomorrow, which is most unlikely, as it is Sunday. Come Monday morning, as a good collaborator should, he’ll go to the Italian army authorities and report a case of breaking, entering and theft of one army motor vehicle. No blame will attach to him. The culprits are obvious. Who else could it be but us?’
Sarina said, ‘And come Monday morning? When the search starts?’
‘Come Monday morning this truck will probably have joined the old one. Whatever happens, we’ll be a long way away from it by then.’
‘You are devious.’
‘You’re being silly again. This is what you call forward planning. Get inside.’
The new truck was rather more comfortable and much quieter than the old one. As they drove off, Sarina said: ‘I’m not carping or criticizing but – well, you do have rather a cavalier attitude towards the property of your allies.’
Petersen glanced at her then returned his attention to the road. ‘Our allies.’
‘What? Oh! Yes, of course. Our allies.’
Petersen kept looking ahead. He could have become suddenly thoughtful but it was impossible to tell. Petersen’s expression did what he told it to do. He said: ‘That mountain inn yesterday. Lunch-time. Remember what George said?’
‘Remember – how could I? He says so much – all the time. Said about what?’
‘Our allies.’
‘Vaguely.’
‘Vaguely.’ He clucked his tongue in disapproval. ‘This augurs ill. A radio operator – any operative – should remember everything that is said. Our alliance is simply a temporary measure of convenience and expediency. We are fighting with the Italians – George said “Germans” but it’s the same thing – not for them. We are fighting for ourselves. When they have served their purpose it will be time for them to be gone. In the meantime, a conflict of interests has arisen between the Italians and the Germans on the one hand and us on the other. Our interests come first. Pity about the trucks but the loss of one or two isn’t going to win or lose the war.’
There was a short silence then Lorraine said: ‘Who is going to win this dreadful war, Major Petersen?’
‘We are. I’d rather you’d just call me Peter. As long as you’re otherwise civil, that is.’
The two girls exchanged glances. If Petersen saw the exchange he gave no signs.
In Capljina, in the deepening dusk, they were halted at an army roadblock. A young officer approached, shone his torch at a piece of paper in his hand, switched it to the truck’s plates, then played it across the windscreen. Petersen leaned out of the window.
‘Don’t shine that damned light in our eyes!’ he shouted angrily.
The light beam dipped immediately.
‘Sorry, sir. Routine check. Wrong truck.’ He stepped back, saluted and waved them on. Petersen drove off.
‘I didn’t like that,’ Sarina said. ‘What happens when your luck runs out? And why did he let us through so easily?’