we—’
‘I don’t know and I’m not mad. It’s just by liking to live a little longer that I manage to live a little longer.’ Petersen looked at them for several silent moments, then sighed. ‘So you want to come to Yugoslavia with me?’
‘Not really.’ Her hands were still clenched and now the brown eyes were hostile. ‘Not after what you’ve just said.’ She looked at her brother, then at Lunz, then back at Petersen. ‘Do we have any options?’
‘Certainly. Any amount. Ask Colonel Lunz.’
‘Colonel?’
‘Not any amount. Very few and I wouldn’t recommend any of them. The whole point of the exercise is that you both get there intact and if you go by any other means the chances of your doing just that are remote: if you try it on your own the chances don’t exist. With Major Petersen you have safe conduct and guaranteed delivery—alive, that is.’
Michael said, doubt in his voice: ‘You have a great deal of confidence in Major Petersen.’
‘I do. So does Major Petersen. He has every right to, I may add. It’s not just that he knows the country in a way neither of you ever will. He moves as he pleases through any territory whether it’s held by friend or enemy. But what’s really important is that the fields of operations out there are in a state of constant flux. An area held by the Četniks today can be held by the Partisans tomorrow. You’d be like lambs in the fold when the wolves come down from the hills.’
For the first time the girl smiled slightly. ‘And the Major is another wolf?’
‘More like a sabre-toothed tiger. And he’s got two others who keep him constant company. Not, mind you, that I’ve ever heard of sabre-toothed tigers meeting up with wolves but you take my point, I hope.’
They didn’t say whether they took his point or not. Petersen looked at them both in turn and said: ‘Those fatigues you’re wearing—they’re British?’
They both nodded.
‘You have spares?’
Again they nodded in unison.
‘Winter clothing? Heavy boots?’
‘Well, no.’ Michael looked his embarrassment. ‘We didn’t think we would need them.’
‘You didn’t think you would need them.’ Petersen briefly contemplated the ceiling then returned his gaze to the uncomfortable pair on the couch. ‘You’re going up the mountains, maybe two thousand metres, in the depths of winter, not to a garden party in high summer.’
Lunz said hastily: ‘I shouldn’t have much trouble in arranging for these things by morning.’
‘Thank you, Colonel.’ Petersen pointed to two fairly large, canvas-wrapped packages on the floor. ‘Your radios, I take it. British?’
‘Yes,’ Michael said. ‘Latest models. Very tough.’
‘Spares?’
‘Lots. All we’ll ever need, the experts say.’
‘The experts have clearly never fallen down a ravine with a radio strapped to their backs. You’re British-trained, of course.’
‘No. American.’
‘In Cairo?’
‘Cairo is full of them. This was a staff sergeant in the US Marines. An expert in some new codes. He taught quite a few Britishers at the same time.’
‘Seems fair enough. Well, a little cooperation and we should get along just fine.’
‘Cooperation?’ Michael seemed puzzled.
‘Yes. If I have to give some instructions now and again I expect them to be followed.’
‘Instructions?’ Michael looked at his sister. ‘Nobody said anything—’
‘I’m saying something now. I must express myself more clearly. Orders will be implicitly obeyed. If not, I’ll leave you behind in Italy, jettison you in the Adriatic or just simply abandon you in Yugoslavia. I will not jeopardize my mission for a couple of disobedient children who won’t do as they’re told.’
‘Children!’ Michael actually clenched his fists. ‘You have no right to—’
‘He has every right to.’ Lunz’s interruption was sharp. ‘Major Petersen was talking about garden parties. He should have been talking about kindergartens. You’re young, ignorant and arrogant and are correspondingly dangerous on all three counts. Whether you’ve been sworn in or not, you’re now members of the Royal Yugoslav Army. Other rankers, such as you, take orders from officers.’
They made no reply, not even when Petersen again regarded the ceiling and said: ‘And we all know the penalty for the wartime disobedience of orders.’
In Lunz’s staff car Petersen sighed and said: ‘I’m afraid I didn’t quite achieve the degree of rapport back there that I might have. They were in a rather unhappy frame of mind when we left.’
‘They’ll get over it. Young, as I said. Spoilt, into the bargain. Aristocrats, I’m told, even some royal blood. Von Karajan or something like that. Odd name for a Yugoslav.’
‘Not really. Almost certainly from Slovenia and the descendants of Austrians.’
‘Be that as it may, they come from a family that’s clearly not accustomed to taking orders and even less accustomed to being talked to the way you did.’
‘I daresay they’ll learn very quickly.’
‘I daresay they will.’
Half an hour after returning to his room, Petersen was joined by George and Alex. George said, ‘Well, at least we know their name.’
‘So do I. Von Karajan. What else?’
George was in no way put out. ‘The reception clerk, very old but sharp, told us he’d no idea where they’d arrived from—they’d been brought there by Colonel Lunz. He gave us their room number—no hesitation—but said that if we wanted to see them he’d have to announce us, ask permission and then escort us. Then we asked him if either of the rooms next to the number he had given us was vacant and when he told us those were their bedrooms we left.’
‘You took your time about getting back.’
‘We are accustomed to your injustices. We went round to the back of the hotel, climbed a fire escape and made our way along a narrow ledge. A very narrow ledge. No joke, I can tell you, especially for an old man like me. Perilous, dizzying heights—’
‘Yes, yes.’ Petersen was patient. The von Karajans had been staying on the first floor. ‘Then?’
‘There was a small balcony outside their room. Net curtains on their French windows.’
‘You could see clearly?’
‘And hear clearly. Young man was sending
