‘Where else does all the misinformation come from? We, as you know, are in the same line of business and it happens to us all the time.’
‘I am genuinely sorry to have inconvenienced you all over a stupid false alarm.’
‘What false alarm?’
Tapers missing from our Rome HQ. Some misguided genius on General Granelli’s staff-1 don’t know, yet, who it was but I’ll find out before the day is over- decided that they had fallen, if that’s the word, into the hands of either yourself or one of your group. Very important papers, very top-secret.’
‘All missing papers are top-secret. I have some papers with me myself, but I assure you they’re not stolen and how top-secret or important they may be I don’t know.’
‘I know about those papers.’ Cipriano waved a dismissive hand and smiled. ‘As you’re probably well aware. Those other, and much more important papers have never left their safe in Rome. A top-secret filing clerk careless about filing top-secret documents.’
‘May one ask what they are about?’
‘You may and that’s all the answer you’d get. I don’t know and even if I did I couldn’t tell you. I wish you an undisturbed night – or what’s left of it. Again, my apologies. Goodbye, Major Petersen.’
‘Goodbye.’ Petersen took the extended hand. ‘My regards to Colonel Lunz.’
‘I will.’ Cipriano frowned. ‘I hardly know the man.’
‘In that case, my regards to Alessandro.’
‘I’ll give him more than that.’ He turned to Josip and took his hand. ‘Many thanks, Signor Pijade. You have been most helpful. We will not forget.’
It was Sarina, nothing if not resilient, who broke the conversational hiatus that followed the departure of Cipriano and his men. ‘”Thank you, Signor Pijade. Most helpful, Signor Pijade. We won’t forget, Signor Pijade.”‘
Josip looked at her in puzzlement then turned to Petersen. ‘Is the young lady talking to me?’
‘I think she’s addressing the company.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I don’t think she does either. The young lady, as you call her, is under the ridiculous impression that you notified Major Cipriano – one assumes she thinks it was by telephone – of our presence and then took him and his men on a guided tour of the premises, distributing keys where necessary. She may, of course, be trying to divert from herself the suspicion that she is the guilty party.’
Sarina made to speak but an outraged Marija gave her no chance. Three quick steps and she was before the suddenly apprehensive Sarina. The ivory-knuckled fists and arms held rigidly by her sides spoke eloquently of her outrage: her eyes were stormy and her clenched teeth remained that way even when she spoke.
‘Such a beautiful face, my dear.’ It is difficult not to hiss when one’s teeth are clenched. ‘Such a delicate complexion. And I have long nails. Should I tear your face because you insult the honour of my husband? Or would a few slaps -hard slaps – be enough for a creature like you?’ In the technique of expressing contempt, Marija Pijade had nothing to learn from anyone.
Sarina said nothing. The apprehensive expression on her face had given way to one of near shock.
‘A soldier – not the Major, he’s a civilized man and was not there – pointed a gun at me. Like this.’ Dramatically, she swung up her right arm and pressed her forefinger against her neck. ‘Not pointed. Pushed. Pushed hard. Three seconds, he said, for my husband to hand over the master key. I am sure he would not have fired but Josip handed over the key at once. Do you blame him for that?’
Slowly, dumbly, Sarina shook her head.
‘But do you still think Josip betrayed you?’
‘No. I don’t know what to think, but I don’t think that any more. I just don’t know what to think. I’m sorry, Marija, I’m truly sorry.’ She smiled wanly. ‘A soldier threatened me with a gun, too. He pressed it in my ear. Maybe that doesn’t make for very clear thinking.’
The cold fury in Marija’s face gave way to speculation then softened into concern. She took an impulsive step forward, put her arms round the girl and began to stroke her hair.
‘I don’t think any of us is thinking very clearly. George!’ This over Sarina’s shoulder. ‘What are you thinking of?’
‘Sljivovica,’ George said decisively. ‘The universal specific. If you read the label on a Pellegrino bottle -‘
‘George!’
‘Right away.’
Josip rubbed a blue and unshaven chin. ‘If Sarina and I are not the culprits, then we’re no nearer to an answer. Who did talk? Have you no suspicions, Peter?’
‘None. I don’t need any. I know who it is.’
‘You know -‘ Josip turned to the bar, picked up a bottle of Sljivovica from a tray George was preparing, filled a small glass, drained it in two gulps and when he’d finished coughing and spluttering said: ‘Who?’
‘I’m not prepared to say at the moment. That’s not because I’m intending to prolong anxiety, increase tension, give the villain enough rope to hang him – or herself – or anything stupid Like that. It’s because I can’t prove it – yet. I’m not even sure I want to prove it. Perhaps the person I have in mind was misguided, or the action may have been unintentional, accidental, inadvertent or even done from the best motives – from, of course, the viewpoint of the person concerned. Unlike Sannia here, I don’t go in much for premature judgements and condemnation.’
‘Peter!’ Marija’s voice held a warning, almost peremptory, note. She still had an arm around Sarina’s shoulders.
‘Sorry, Marija. Sorry, Sarina. Just my natural nastiness surfacing. By the way, if you people want to go to bed, well of course, go. But no hurry now. Change of plan. We won’t be leaving until the late forenoon tomorrow. Certainly not before. Giacomo, could I have a quiet word with you?’
‘Have I any option?/
‘Certainly. You can always say “no”.’
Giacomo smiled his broad smile, stood up and put his hand in his pocket. ‘Josip, if I could buy a bottle of that excellent red wine -‘
Josip was mildly affronted. ‘Peter Petersen’s friends pay for nothing in my hotel.’
‘Maybe I’m not his friend. I mean, maybe he’s not my friend.’ Giacomo seemed to find the thought highly amusing. ‘Thanks all the same.’ He picked up a bottle and two glasses from the bar, led the way to a distant table, poured wine and said admiringly: ‘That Marija. Quite a girl. Not quite a tartar but no shrinking violet. Changes her mind a bit quick, doesn’t she?’
‘Mercurial, you’d say?’
‘That’s the word. Seems to know you pretty well. Has she known you long?’
‘She does and she has.’ Petersen spoke with some feeling. ‘Twenty-six years, three months and some days. The day she was born. My cousin. Why do you ask?’
‘Curiosity. I was beginning to wonder if you knew everyone in the valley. Well, on with the inquisition. Incidentally, I would like to say that I’m honoured to be the prime suspect and/or the chosen villain.’
‘You’re neither a suspect nor villain. Wrong casting. If you wanted, say, to dispose of George or Alex or myself, or get your hands on something you thought we had, you’d use a heavy instrument. Surreptitious phone calls or secret tip-offs are not in your nature. Deviousness is not part of your stock-in-trade.’
‘Well, thank you. It’s a disappointment, though. I take it you want to ask some questions?’
‘If I may.’
‘About myself, of course. Fire away. No, don’t fire away. Let me give you my curriculum vitae. Behind me lies a blameless existence. My life is an open book.
‘You’re right, I’m Montenegrin. Vladimir was my given name. I prefer Giacomo. In England they called me “Johnny”. I still prefer Giacomo.’
‘You lived in England?’
‘I am English. Sounds confusing, but not really. Before the war I was a second officer in the Merchant Navy – the Yugoslav one, I mean. I met a beautiful Canadian girl in Southampton so I left the ship.’ He said it as if it had been the most natural thing in the world to do and Petersen could readily understand that for him it had been. ‘There was a little difficulty at first at staying on in England but I’d found an excellent and very understanding boss who was working on a diving contract for the Government and who was one experienced diver short. I’d qualified as a diver before joining the merchant marine. By and by I got married -‘
‘Same girl?’
‘Same girl. I became naturalized in August 1939 and joined the services on the outbreak of war the following month. Because I had a master’s ocean-going ticket and was a qualified diver who could have been handy at things like sticking limpet mines on to warships in enemy harbours and was a natural for the Navy, it was inevitable, I suppose, that they put me into the infantry. I went to Europe, came back by Dunkirk, then went out to the Middle East.’