Death In Captivity (13 page)

Suddenly there came a snap and a double stamp as the sentry sprang to attention.

There was a noise of feet, and a few words were spoken, which he could not catch.

Then the light threw a long shadow down the corridor and Captain Benucci appeared. He walked right up to the door and stood outside, for a moment, looking at the darkened peephole. His face was not more than twenty inches from Goyles, who could smell the peculiar pomade which he used.

‘Captain Goyles.’

‘Yes,’ said Goyles cautiously.

‘Ah – you are awake. I wondered. I have a message for you. I have to tell you that Private Biancelli will
not
be on duty tonight. He shot himself this evening. He was cleaning his rifle. It was an accident.’

Goyles had nothing to say. He saw Captain Benucci turn and he watched his back disappear down the passageway and heard the clock as the guard came to attention, and the sound of Benucci’s feet clattering away down the path.

‘I don’t like this Potter business a bit,’ said Colonel Baird.

‘Stinks,’ agreed Commander Oxey.

‘Why do you think they did it? They can’t have got on to that semaphoring stunt – even if they did—’

‘Even if they did,’ said Commander Oxey, ‘it would be stupid to take any notice of it days after the event, when everybody knew about Sicily anyway.’

‘Then why pick on him? They haven’t tried to shift any of the other newcomers?’

‘Not that I know of.’

‘He seemed a perfectly genuine and harmless little man. He knew a lot of the officers in 15 R.H.A. —’

‘By name?’

‘Certainly. Why? What are you getting at?’

‘Well,’ said Commander Oxey slowly, ‘I’ve been digging round among the gunner officers here – we’ve got one or two from that Regiment, and others who were in the same Division. They all agree that Potter seemed perfectly genuine. He knew the right answers. He’d heard of all the right people. He knew them by their names – even by their army nicknames – only—’

‘Only what?’

‘Only they none of them remember meeting him.’

“That’s quite reasonable. He was a replacement signal officer. He went straight out from England and he only joined the Regiment a few days before the actual Sicily show—’

‘Quite,’ said Commander Oxey. ‘Then how did he come to know all those other people? He must have done some remarkably intensive visiting round the Division in those few days, to pick up all that gossip. I’m not too well up in army matters, but I should have thought that if he’d only been a few days with his Regiment he might have known one or two of the officers – the ones he actually messed with and worked under – but he’d still be a bit vague about the rest of the Regiment, wouldn’t he? Let alone the Division.’

‘There’s something in that,’ said Baird. ‘What’s your idea?’

‘I haven’t really got an idea yet – but I asked Lieutenant Long to come and have a few words. I think he might be able to help us.’

‘Tony Long,’ said Baird. ‘What makes you think that? He’s not a gunner – and he was in Special Service most of his time.’

‘Not all his life,’ said Commander Oxey with a smile. ‘That sounds like him now. Come in, Long. I was just talking about you to Colonel Baird. So far as I can see from our records you’re our only Sheltonian in the camp. At least, the only one of the right age.’

‘The right age, sir?’

‘Young enough, I mean. You were there in 1936 weren’t you – in School House?’

‘Yes. I went in winter ‘33 and left in ‘37.’

‘Then you’ll remember Potter?’

‘Potter,’ said Tony slowly. ‘Was Potter at Shelton?’

‘That’s what we’re asking you,’ said Colonel Baird sharply.

‘I can’t say I remember anyone called Potter. When was he supposed to have come?’

Colonel Baird referred to his notes – ‘New boy in 1935.’

‘Oh, well, that would make him two years younger than me. It’s quite possible I wouldn’t know him. After all, there were six hundred boys there, in a dozen different houses. If he was in another house—’

‘That’s just it,’ said Commander Oxey. ‘He was in School House.’

‘Well, that settles it,’ said Long. ‘He wasn’t. You’re sure he said School House.’

‘Certain.’

‘Then he’s a liar.’

‘I thought he might be,’ said Commander Oxey. ‘I just wanted to be sure. Thank you very much.’

When the door had closed behind him Colonel Baird said, ‘Well, what do you make of that?’

‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’ said Commander Oxey. ‘Somebody killed off their former stool-pigeon. They waste precious little time over installing a new one.’

‘No doubt. But why remove him before he’s had a chance to do any stooling?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Commander Oxey with a grin, ‘they heard of the precautions we were taking. They wouldn’t want him to go the same way as the first one, would they?’

‘We’re to go ahead with the tunnel at full speed,’ said Hugo Baierlein. ‘I saw Baird this morning and he approved most of my suggestions. It’s a pity that both Roger and “Cuckoo” should be out of circulation just now, because they both know the ropes. We’re going to work three shifts instead of two – the first from nine to one, the afternoon shift from two to six, and a short evening shift from six till just before lock-up. First, we’re going to take some steps to speed things up. We’re only going to half-shore the tunnel. We’ll put in complete box sections of wood every other foot, and only a few thin pieces across the interval to form a ceiling—’

That’s all right as far as it goes,’ said Overstrand, ‘but it doesn’t solve the main problem. It’s the disposal of the sand that’s holding us up. Even using A tunnel – which is very nearly full now – we’re getting out more than we can dispose of.’

‘I was coming to that,’ said Baierlein. ‘The order there is that everything goes. You can put it on the flower beds, paths, the playing fields, underneath huts. You can store it in boxes round the cook-house. The Escape Committee has come to the conclusion that the Italians know very well that there’s a tunnel being dug. They just don’t know where it starts from. If they find fresh sand, it won’t tell them anything they don’t know already.’

‘Provided people aren’t spotted coming away from this hut with it.’

‘Yes. That’s vital. Well then’ – Baierlein turned to Duncan and Anderson – ‘I take it you’re on.’

‘You may take it so,’ said Duncan, ‘and we can probably raise a complete working shift from our hut. Tunnelling stock has gone up a point or two after the S.B.O.’s speech.’

‘Right,’ said Baierlein. ‘Will you collect your people now and dribble them across? We’ll have the tunnel mouth open and show the way around. You can start proper work this evening.’

‘By the way,’ said Duncan, ‘have you roofed over the fall yet?’

‘Surely,’ said Overstrand. There was a degree of malice in his smile. ‘We’ve found a perfect roof for it.’

When their visitors had gone, Baierlein and Overstrand walked along to the kitchen.

‘No hurry,’ said Baierlein. ‘We shall have to wait for them anyway, to help us up with the lid.’

‘As a matter of fact,’ said Overstrand, ‘it’s perfectly possible for two people to do it if you take it slowly. Grim and I did it the other day.’

‘Did you now?’ said Baierlein. ‘Well, I’m not Grim. We’ll wait till the others turn up if you don’t mind, and do it properly.

‘Come in,’ said Colonel Lavery. ‘The Adjutant tells me you want a word with me.’

‘If I could,’ said Rolf-Callender. He was looking pink but determined and his rather girlish mouth had tighter lines round it than usual.

‘It’s about some property of ours, sir, that’s been stolen.’

‘Stolen? That’s a horrible word to hear in a prisoner-of-war camp. Are you certain?’

‘Absolutely, sir. In fact I don’t think the thief is even troubling to deny it.’

‘I see.’ A wary look came into Colonel Lavery’s eye. ‘You said “our” property. It’s not just your private stuff?’

‘No, sir. It’s a roulette board. It belongs to Captain Perse and Lieutenant Bush and myself. We bought some of the stuff from the Italians, and got the rest from the Quartermaster. We made it ourselves.’

‘I see. You’re quite sure you haven’t just lost it?’

‘I don’t think that’s really possible, sir. It was a huge thing. It was hinged in the middle, but when it was flat it was about six feet by three.’

‘Yes—’

‘Besides, we all know who’s got it. They’ve practically boasted about it. It’s Overstrand and his friends – we know – at least we’re practically certain’ – Rolf-Callender almost gobbled over this final indignity – ‘they’re using it to roof a tunnel.’

‘I see.’

‘And that’s not all, sir. They – or some of the other escaping people – stole the rugger posts. I don’t know if it was a tunnel – it was something to do with escaping – and people are getting pretty fed up about it.’

‘Yes,’ said Colonel Lavery.

‘It’s not only me – you could ask anyone in our hut. We’re all for live and let live, and when it comes to the point – I mean, what you said in your speech – I hope we’d do our bit like anyone else, but it’s these cloak-and-dagger types – why
should
they go round pinching other people’s stuff and behaving as if they owned the place? Why should they have special privileges?’

‘What do you want me to do?’

Rolf-Callender became aware that he might have been saying a little more than he had started out to do. He pulled himself up and said, ‘We’d like our board back, sir.’

‘There’s one practical difficulty to that,’ said Colonel Lavery with a smile. ‘I don’t even know where their tunnel is—’

‘Well – I expect Colonel Baird does.’

‘Do you want me to ask him?’

This suggestion made even Rolf-Callender hesitate. He was as conscious as anyone of Colonel Baird’s personality. He therefore hedged.

‘Am I to take it, sir, that escaping activities have official priority over any other forms of activity?’

Colonel Lavery felt tempted to tell the petulant young man that he could take what he liked and do what he liked with it, but he restrained himself in time. Though badly put, the grievance was, he knew, a real one in the minds of many people.

‘I can’t give any general ruling,’ he said. ‘You know that it’s your military duty to take every reasonable chance of escape.’

‘Every reasonable chance, yes, sir.’

‘Quite. Well, all that means is that every case must be judged on its merits. In this case, since you put it to me, I do think that that particular piece of wood is serving a better purpose where it is now. I know enough about this tunnel to know that it’s a good and careful one, and has a very fair chance of success. And if it does come through it may be very useful. I think that the people concerned should have asked you openly for the board – you might even have felt it your duty to give it to them.’

‘Hmph!’ said Rolf-Callender.

‘But now that it’s been done, I don’t think I can possibly order it to be given back again.’

‘I see, sir.’

Rolf-Callender saluted insubordinately and withdrew.

Colonel Lavery sighed.

It was certainly unfortunate that on his return to Hut A, the first person that Rolf-Callender met should have been Overstrand.

Overstrand had come across to the hut to work out with Anderson and Brandy Duncan the last details of the new digging teams. For various reasons they were anxious, if possible, that one complete shift should come from Hut A. They wanted eight men at least and had been finding last choices a bit difficult despite the fact that, as Duncan said, digging stock was temporarily on the rise. For the truth of the matter was that digging tunnels was a very specialised pursuit, in which experience counted for a good deal more than enthusiasm.

The three of them were standing in the passage when Rolf-Callender arrived.

Rolf-Callender pushed past the little group, trod on Overstrand’s foot, apologised unconvincingly, and made for the door of his room.

‘Been playing much roulette lately?’ enquired Overstrand genially.

Rolf-Callender stopped in his tracks, turned round slowly, and said, ‘Just because you stole some of our property and got away with it doesn’t give you any right to be funny about it.’

‘Sorry if I’ve said something to amuse you,’ said Overstrand. ‘Now perhaps if you told me what on earth you were talking about – ’

‘You know damned well what I’m talking about.’

‘And what exactly do you mean by “got away with it”?’

Rolf-Callender said nothing. His face was white and he was breathing heavily.

‘So that’s why you wanted to see the S.B.O.,’ continued Overstrand, suddenly enlightened. ‘Sneaking again! And the S.B.O. told you to go and chase yourself, did he? Good for him.’

‘Half the trouble in this camp,’ said Rolf-Callender, ‘is that you escaping people think you’re a race apart. You’re above the law.’ His mouth was working so that he found it hard to shape the words. ‘Some of the things you do would get you kicked out of any decent regiment—’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ said Overstrand, who was as red as Rolf-Callender was white. ‘I can never remember whether that flash on your battle-dress represents the R.A.S.C. or the Army Pay Corps—’

‘Acting as cowboys and Indians all over the camp. If you didn’t interfere so much with everyone else’s comfort you’d just be a joke—’

‘If I’m as funny as all that, possibly you could find a part for me in your forthcoming production—’

‘But when it comes to stealing property and murdering a harmless little creature like Coutoules—’

‘Why, you little twerp,’ said Overstrand.

‘You thought you’d got away with it, didn’t you—?’

Overstrand slapped Rolf-Callender hard, with his open hand, on the side of the face.

Rolf-Callender hit out, and caught Overstrand, without any force, on the point of the nose.

Overstrand took two paces forward and hit Rolf-Callender under the heart. The three blows were as quick and as pat as in some well-rehearsed music-hall turn, only there was nothing funny about their intention or their effect. Rolf-Callender fell forward on to his knees, stayed there for a moment, fighting for breath, then, with sudden energy, seized Overstrand round the knees, heaved with his shoulders, and toppled him to the ground. Then he threw himself on to him and started to claw. As the two of them rolled round in a threshing, dusty cloud, doors began to open along the passage.