Free A Bitter Field by Jack Ludlow Page B

given he was the man who could guarantee the participation of the hardbitten colonial troops he had at one time commanded in a country where the metropolitan army was useless.
    Peter, on behalf of his previous employers, had been shadowing the pair prior to their departure in an attempt to discover their intentions in the hope of putting a block on what they intended, albeit he had no idea of the plan. In that he had utterly failed, but it said a great deal about the outfit of which he was once again part. It was obvious the pair could not have acted as they did without at least a nod from some of their more senior colleagues.
    ‘How many of your colleagues are actually pro-Nazi?’
    ‘Pro-Nazi might be calling it too high, but they are definitely anti the Soviets and anyone who travels with them, which includes any government called a “Popular Front” and loaded with socialists and trade unionists.’
    Peter was alluding not just to Spain but to the coalition which had run France for two years, to introduce such wonders as the forty-hour working week and paid annual holidays, the underlying point being that, for all his protestations about hiscolleagues not being actual fascists, one or two must be flying pretty close.
    ‘Whatever their views, the number is less significant than their mere presence, which makes it near impossible to meaningfully formulate a strategy on the dictator states so we can properly advise the Government.’ Peter sighed and flicked his fag over the side. ‘And before you ask, I am sure there are quite a few crypto-communists in the outfit as well, equally, if not more, discreet.’
    ‘Surely you work in compartments?’
    ‘We do and I must say this, there is no leak of military secrets to Jerry or anyone else we can trace, it’s the political we’re adrift on. Let’s leave it at this – there are chaps in SIS who can see no further than the lead editorials in the Daily Mail , a fair few who would not even object to Oswald Mosley as prime minister.’
    ‘Come on, Peter, the man’s a bombastic farce.’
    ‘I seem to recall some folk saying that about the fellow we used to jokingly refer to as “Herr Schicklgruber”. Calling Hitler that in Germany now can get you a very swift bullet in the brain. Anyway, that’s by the by; with the rivalries in the department, getting untainted advice to the top so they might make the right choices is proving difficult. The way things are we have no method of properly altering their stupid policy.’
    ‘So you need outside sources?’
    ‘More than one and people not at all connected with the establishment, yet they also have to be folk who have personal relations where they are needed.’
    ‘How many people did you set out to tell you were coming to La Rochelle?’
    Peter was slightly thrown by that question, even if he had knownthat eventually it must arise; Cal was never going to leave the uncertainty over betrayal dormant, but he did no more than hold up two fingers in reply. ‘Just don’t go asking me who.’
    ‘I wouldn’t expect an answer if I did, but I would like to know how important they are.’
    ‘Top floor.’
    ‘This is all a bit nebulous, Peter.’
    ‘Goes with the job, I’m afraid.’
    ‘I’m curious as to what’s in it for me?’
    That produced a wry smile. ‘Fighting the good fight, which always tickles your fancy—’
    ‘Hardly enough,’ Cal interrupted.
    ‘How about the freedom to operate unhindered in your chosen field?’
    ‘Which I am doing now.’
    ‘You won’t be, Cal, take my word for it. Things leak out and certain folk are spitting blood at the rumour that you got those embargoed weapons to the Spanish republicans.’
    ‘It’s still just a rumour I take it?’
    Peter understood the question, not that he enjoyed it being posed. ‘If you are asking me if I let on about helping you, or any precise knowledge of what you did, the answer is no. I did nothing to expose you and I must add that I find the