old man.’ Kyriakos gestured dismissively.
‘No?’ Audley came back quickly, with an edge to his voice. ‘But … well, I can tell you, captain, that our chaps are damn good, even if I’m not.’ He nodded at the corpse line, and then frowned at the Greek. ‘The bastards got three good men with their first burst. But that’s because they must have got wind of us. And that’s all they got—all the rest were ours . And our chaps deserve the credit for it, I’d say.’
Fred started to warm to the young man, but then remembered the Greek’s warning and that falsely innocent expression. So all Audley was doing was drawing Kyriakos out in his own way, most likely.
‘No. Not all.’ Suddenly Kyriakos spoke mildly, without emphasis. ‘Your chaps didn’t shoot your Russian friend. Not unless they shoot other … chaps … in the back of the neck.’ He paused. ‘Which I’m sure they don’t—being decent chaps.’ Mild still. ‘And certainly not on this occasion.’ Cold, hard voice, suddenly: the voice of Captain Michaelides Mark II. ‘Because your Russian—friendly or unfriendly to you, old man … he was shot by his own side, from behind.’ If possible, the voice became harder and colder. ‘These last few weeks I’ve seen quite a lot of wounds like that, courtesy of Hellenikos Laikos Apelefteroikos Stratos … and some understandable reprisals by the men I have the honour of trying to command, I’m sorry to say.’ The voice was ultimately frozen now. ‘So I know what a man’s face looks like when he’s been shot in the back of the neck while lying down. So do not argue with me, lieutenant.’
Fred stared at Kyriakos. He had started off watching the young dragoon, to see how he reacted to the Greek’s mild disagreement. But then Captain Michaelides Mark II had taken over. And finally, at the last, it hadn’t been Captain Michaelides Mark II either: it had been a complete stranger.
For a moment Audley didn’t reply, which drew Fred back to him to observe what he felt might well be a mirror-image of his own expression, although on a very different face.
‘I w-w-wouldn’t dream of arguing with you, Captain M-Mmm—’ Audley shook his head and scowled as his impediment got the better of him. ‘You can g-g … go and argue with the B-B-B—’
‘I will do just that, yes.’ The Greek drew himself up.
‘In there—’ Audley pointed towards the low doorway in the ruins ‘—he’s w-waiting to mmm-meet you both.’ He tore his attention from the Greek to Fred, and instantly relaxed. ‘I’ve told him all about you, and he’s jolly keen to make your acquaintance, he says. And—’ The boy just managed to avoid looking at Kyriakos again ‘—and the good news is that I’m to find you some transport, if possible—’
‘No,’ said Kyriakos.
They both looked at him.
‘I shall go and see the Brigadier by myself first.’ Kyriakos ignored Audley. ‘Im sorry, old boy. But that’s the way it is. Because this happens to be my country.’
He gave Fred a nod, and then ducked into the doorway without another word.
‘And he’s b-b-bloody welcome to it, if you ask me,’ murmured Audley. Then he looked inquiringly at Fred. ‘Bloody Greek Secret Police!’ Then he frowned. ‘And he’s a friend of yours—?’
‘Yes.’ It was true. Or it had been true.
‘And you really did break down—and all that?’
The innocent look was back. And if Kyriakos hadn’t warned him he would have believed it. But now he didn’t believe either of them. ‘Yes.’
Audley breathed in deeply. ‘Well … you’ve got some funny friends, then. So you’d better watch out, if you ask me—if you’re stuck here.’ He breathed out slowly. Thank God we’re posted elsewhere after this, to where the real war is! Not that we’ll see much of it, more’s the pity!‘ He grinned at Fred. ’I never thought I’d ever say that, you know!‘
Was he being led on ? Fred wondered. ‘What d’you mean—“the