“And the Firm aren’t denying it was them. Suits everybody for that to be the official verdict.” Calvert was relaxed in an armchair. Where the local Firm was one of the more reasonable sort, they and the local police would have a tacit agreement over boundaries and conduct. Burglaries in unoccupied houses received little police attention as long as the local people were safe when inside their homes and could walk the streets at night safely. Toms could ply their trade as long as they did so in an agreed area away from decent people. Unwritten agreements that accepted some things so that worse ones could be avoided. Calvert was already establishing discrete contacts with Nottingham’s local Firm.
“That wasn’t what happened and you know it.”
The Duke stared at the wall, trying to work out how he felt about what had happened. Two dead men, even if they were Blackshirts, was a lot to swallow.
“The whisper is, those were two of the Blackshirts responsible for killing that girl in the riot a couple of days ago. Seems like one of the lads decided to take the law into his own hands. Done both of them in.” Calvert grinned. “One unarmed, untrained lad against two armed men and he gets them both. That lad has promise.”
“We can’t justify… ” The Duke was still appalled by the reality that was opening in front of him.
“Oh yes we can.”
Fleming spoke coldly; there was no mercy in his manner. “Did you see what they did to that poor girl? You often hear people say it, but this time it was true. They beat her so badly, even her own mother couldn’t recognize her. And even that doesn’t matter.
“What does matter is that the Auxiliaries are going to be running scared and angry now. They’ll be even more aggressive, even more unreasonable. They watch the official police doing next to nothing about the killings. That makes them livid. They’ll throw their weight around even more and, all the time, be watching out for the next likely lad with a knife or a gun. They’ll treat everybody as a potential killer and, that’ll make people hate them even more and build up support for the Resistance. And that’ll set the Auxiliaries off even more. You see how the spiral goes from there?”
“I do.” The Duke hated what he was hearing, but it rang terribly true. “But this was still murder. What sort of world are we creating?”
“Nothing that hasn’t been created for hundreds of years. Your Grace, there’s going to be a Resistance; that is as sure as anything can be. This is just the start. It’s going to get worse. A time is coming when this kind of thing is normal. That Man thinks he stopped a war with his armistice, but he hasn’t. He’s started one; only it’s being fought here, not on a battlefield a long way away. Once the Germans arrive, it will be a real war. What’s just happened here has done so over and over again, all over Europe. We’ve been so far removed from it, we’ve forgotten the reality. Now we’re learning it again. We’re lucky in a way; we’ve got time to prepare and get things ready. A year ago, that lad wouldn’t have dreamed of killing two men. Not in his wildest nightmares. A year ago, what he did would have been to commit two foul murders. A twelve-month later, it is now a courageous act of resistance. Now he’s made that leap, we can recruit him, train him and use him. Make sure he kills the right people in future; not that he didn’t, this time.
“That Man has changed the rules and he doesn’t realize how much yet. We’re in the middle of the change right now. It’s happening all over the country. Up in Scotland, there are already areas the Auxiliaries dare not go, for fear of a pistol shot in the darkness. And as for Northern Ireland, when an IRA man shoots down an Auxiliary, the Protestants cheer him on. You wanted to start a resistance movement? Well, it’s started. Now, we find that lad and bring him into the fold. Through a couple of cut-outs, of course.”
Fleming sighed and helped himself to a brandy, to recover from his outburst. The frustration at having to explain such things was genuine, but it was mixed up with despair at the dark, dismal future he could see coming. People think a resistance movement is glamorous and exciting. When they learn the truth about just how dirty a business it is, the realization always sickens them and they still don’t know the worst of it. They have no idea what is to come and it’s probably better that way. God help us all. England won’t be a green and pleasant land again, not in my lifetime.
Calvert took another drink. “Oh yes, that lad has promise. Just what we’re looking for, in fact. Motivated.”
Chapter Twelve
THE HEART OF THE MATTER
“Cowardice! Unforgiveable cowardice!”
Captain Grégoire Dieudonné crashed his fist on the table to give emphasis to his words. In front of him, Jourdain Roul stood to attention, trying to keep his temper under control. He was uneasily aware that a good part of him agreed with his Captain’s assessment. The company was formed up around a small hamlet; one so small, it didn’t even have an official name. Its degree switch in direction from south to due east and crossed a small stream. The curve of the stream and the arc of the road offered what appeared to be a good defensive position; on the surface, anyway. His experiences earlier in the day gave Roul good reason to doubt that.
“Do you have any explanation for your actions? Or must I assume that you are English?” Dieudonné was bright red with rage. Still, his words gave Roul a chance to explain himself.
“Sir, our position was untenable. The Siamese had occupied the high ground to the north and were making undisturbed artillery practice on my right. Their infantry demonstrated against my center, pinning it in place, while they advanced to cut the road in my rear. They had tanks in support. There was nothing I could do. If we had remained in place, we would have been cut off and forced to surrender.”
Roul took a deep breath. “Sir, our position here is in equal danger. The Siamese are not advancing along the road, to the exclusion of everything else. They are methodically occupying the ridge to the north, parallel to RC157. They are doing that while we speak. If they haven’t occupied Hill 168, they will soon. From there, they can bring their guns up again. Captain, I must urgently recommend we detach a unit to secure Hill 168.”
Dieudonné stared at the map, running permutations through his mind. Despite his behavior towards Roul, he was actually quite sympathetic to the young Lieutenant’s dilemma. The French defensive plan had been based on the border battalions forming a series of roadblocks along the key east-west highways that would pin down the Thai forces. Then, the core of the Indochina army would counterattack, envelop their left flank and drive them back. The problem was that the whole plan was built around the assumption that the Thais would keep to the roads. Obviously, they weren’t doing that at all.
Dieudonné knew more about what was going on around him than Roul, although he was unpleasantly aware that his picture was very incomplete. He suspected that the disappearance of the Third Battalion, Tirailleurs Tonkinois had been caused by the same sequence of events that had taken place at Phoum Kham Reng. Only, the Tirailleurs hadn’t disengaged and had been swallowed up in place. If Roul hadn’t disengaged, his platoon wouldn’t be here now. On the other hand, if he had remained in place, his sacrifice would have bought Dieudonné more time to prepare his defenses. Sometimes there were no good options.