‘No.’ Stocker’s face hardened. ‘I shall be going on to Berlin with Major McCorquodale tomorrow. You will be staying behind, ostensibly to pull the rest of them together before they follow me.’
‘Yes, sir.’ It hadn’t been a very good joke, at that. But the thought of Sergeant Devenish at his side raised his spirits. Also, reaching Berlin finally had always been the height of his military ambition, ever since 1939. For then the war would be truly ended, he had foolishly believed. ‘I’ll do my best to get them to you as quickly as possible.’
‘No you won’t. You’ll make a hash of it, major. Including, among other things, allowing Gehrd Schild to escape.’ Stocker drew a deep breath, and then looked down the runway towards the Dakota. ‘I’ll fill in the details during the flight, major. But … you won’t be going to Berlin, anyway.’
Fred felt the blood flare in his cheeks. ‘What—?’
‘Colonel Stocker will be back from Berlin in ten days. That should give you time to put everyone’s back up.’ Clinton nodded at him. ‘Then you will have a public stand-up quarrel with him in the mess. And then you will use the contents of the envelope I gave you, and become a civilian.’
The wind felt cold on his cheeks. Becoming a civilian was something he’d dreamed of all these years. But now the thought of it was as desolate as the airfield around him.
‘You will, of course, rejoin your family firm then—your Uncle Luke will put you in the right place. But in three months’ time there will be a civilian vacancy on the British Control Commission in Germany, in the economic section. And the circumstances of your departure from TRR-2 as well as your name and qualifications, plus the influence I will arrange, will get you the job. So then you will be where I want you to be. Because, although this new bomb has given us a breathing space, I foresee trouble in Germany first. And I must have someone right inside the commission to keep an eye on things, Fred.’
For a moment all Fred could think of, almost irrelevantly, was so I’m not going to get to see Berlin after all. But then it occurred to him that this was a properly symbolic failure if his war wasn’t ending, but just beginning. The only question was … did he still want to continue fighting?
‘You aren’t leaving me much choice, it seems.’ He stared at Clinton.
‘On the contrary. The choice is all yours. I told you that you were a free man, and you are. And in a fortnight’s time you will be altogether beyond my reach, if that’s where you want to be. It’ll be entirely up to you then to decide your own right and wrong, and whether you want to serve undercover.’
One of the Dakota’s engines coughed, and then came explosively to life. Colonel Stocker was already a dozen yards away, striding towards the plane as though Major Fattorini’s decision was a foregone conclusion.
‘Yes, sir.’ Because there didn’t seem much else either to say or to do, he saluted Clinton. Which meant that Stocker was right—at least for the time being, anyway.
The Brigadier returned his salute. ‘Well then … you’d better be starting, Major Fattorini,’ he said.
The End
A New Kind of War Page 33
