‘I couldn’t have put it more succinctly myself. Except, of course, that I wouldn’t have used the word “abscond”. Only, of course, if you consent. The decision is entirely up to you. And Lorraine, too. But I think Lorraine has already made up her mind.’
‘Yes, I have.’ There was no hesitation in her voice.
‘I’ll be dismissed from the Navy,’ Carlos said gloomily. ‘No, I won’t, I’ll be court-martialled and shot.’
‘Nothing will happen to you. There is not a chance in the world. George and I have gone over it time and again.’
‘My crew will talk and –’
‘Talk? Talk what about? They’re sitting in the mess-room with machine-pistols at their heads. If you had a machine-pistol at your head would you have any doubt whatsoever that your ship had been taken over by force?’
‘Cipriano –’
‘What of Cipriano. Even if he survives his captivity, which he unfortunately probably will as the British don’t shoot prisoners, there’s nothing he can do. There is no way your version and that of the crew – and this will become the official version – can be disproved. And he would never dare lay a personal charge against you – by the time peace comes you can call for the testimony of several solid and respected citizens of Yugoslavia who will testify to the fact that Cipriano kidnapped your son. The penalty in Italy for kidnapping is life imprisonment.’
‘Oh, do come on, Carlos,’ Lorraine said impatiently. ‘It’s not like you to dilly-dally. There is no other way.’ She gently touched his chin so that his eyes came round to hers. ‘We’ve got Mario back.’
‘True, true.’ He smiled at her. ‘That’s all that matters to you, isn’t it?’
‘Not all.’ She smiled in return. ‘You’re back too. That matters a little. What’s the alternative, Carlos? Peter doesn’t want to kill Cipriano, and if Cipriano is free our life is finished. He has to be imprisoned in a safe place and that means in British hands, and the only way to get him there is in this boat. Peter doesn’t make mistakes.’
‘Correction,’ Sarina said sweetly. ‘Peter never makes mistakes.’
‘“Souvent femme varie”’ Petersen said.
‘Oh, do be quiet.’
‘If I’m locked up,’ Carlos said, ‘When will I – and my crew – be released?’
‘Tomorrow. An anonymous phone message.’
‘And Lorraine and Mario will stay with your friends?’
‘Only a few days. Until we provide them with new identity papers. George is a close friend of the master forger in the Balkans. Lorraine Tremino, we had thought. In these troublous times you should have no difficulty in establishing a long-established family unit. A marriage certificate, George?’
George lowered his tankard. ‘For my friend, a trifle. Venue? Rome? Pescara? Cowes? Wherever. We shall see what forms he has available.’
The door opened and Alex entered, Sava close behind him. Alex had a curly-haired little boy by the hand. The boy looked around him, wonderingly, caught a sight of Carlos and ran to him, arms outstretched. Carlos picked him up and set him on his knees. Mario wound his arms round his neck and gazed wonderingly at Lorraine.
‘He’s only a little boy,’ George said comfortingly. ‘For a little boy, Lorraine, six months is a long time. He will remember.’
Harrison coughed. ‘And I am to go with Giacomo on this perilous voyage, this rendezvous with eternity?’
‘Your choice, Jamie, but Giacomo has to have somebody. Besides, you know as well as I do that the Illyrian Alps are not your homeland and that there’s no useful function you can perform here any more. More important, as a serving British officer you will lend credulity – total credibility – to Giacomo’s story – apart from convincing the British of the true state of affairs out here, about which you feel so strongly.’
‘I will go,’ Harrison said. ‘A twisted smile on my face, but I will go.’
‘You’ll untwist your smile when the fast Royal Navy patrol boat comes out to meet you. We will radio Cairo. I don’t have their callup sign but you do, don’t you, Sarina?’
‘Yes.’
‘As a final back-up we will give you a letter explaining the situation fully. Do you have a typewriter, Carlos?’
‘Next door.’ Carlos had handed Mario over to Lorraine. The little boy, while not objecting, still had a suspicious frown on his face.
‘This letter will be signed by the Generalmajor and myself. Can you type, Sarina?’
‘Of course.’
‘Of course. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. Well, I can’t. You should, at least, be pleased. A chink in my armour. Come on.’
Carlos said, ‘I don’t like to say this, Peter, but I think you’ve missed something. It’s a long long way to the south of Italy where I assume this rendezvous will be made.’
‘Your diesel lines are cleared? Your tanks are full?’
‘Yes. That’s not my point. Oh, I’m sure that Giacomo can steer by the sun and the compass but a rendezvous has to be precise. Latitude this, longitude that.’
‘Indeed. But there are some things you don’t know about Giacomo.’
Carlos smiled. ‘I’m sure there are. What?’
‘Do you have a foreign-going master’s ticket?
‘No.’ Carlos smiled again. ‘Don’t tell me. Giacomo has.’
In the tiny cabin next door Petersen said: ‘You liked Cairo, didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Sarina looked puzzled. ‘Yes, I did.’ Her puzzlement changed to suspicion. ‘Why?’
‘Aristocratic young ladies like you are not cut out for this life. All the cold and ice and snow and mountains. Besides, you suffer from vertigo.’
‘I’m coming with you.’ The tone in her voice was final.
Petersen looked at her for a long moment then smiled. ‘A Partisan.’
‘I’m coming with you.’
‘So is Michael.’
‘I’m coming with you in a different way.’
Petersen pondered. ‘If things like that have to be said I think that I should really –’
‘You talk so much I’d have to wait for ever.’
He smiled and touched the auburn hair. ‘About this letter.’
‘Romance,’ she said. ‘Life is going to be full of it.’
‘One little thing you’ve overlooked, Peter,’ Harrison said.
‘Peter never overlooks anything.’ Petersen looked at Sarina and raised his eyes.
‘Souvent –’
‘Please.’
‘Giacomo and I are going to be alone,’ Harrison said. ‘We have to sleep. Five dangerous men to be watched. How are we –’ ‘Alex?’
‘Yes, Major?’
‘The engine-room.’
‘Ah!’ A rare, a very rare smile touched Alex’s lips. ‘The oxyacetylene welder.’
Alistair MacLean, Partisans
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