‘I’m rather surprised they let me in.’
‘You’re one of the few people I can talk to about any of this. Even my family are off-limits until I get debriefed.’
‘That’s a shame.’ Henbury took off his new lightweight glasses and swung them between thumb and forefinger. ‘Adams sends his regards.’
‘I’m surprised he’s still talking to me. I didn’t give him a particularly easy time.’
‘I think he’s forgiven you. More than the government has.’
‘Well, yes.’ Thacker had talked to an army lawyer that morning. Despite her breezy assurances that everything was going to work out for the best, he wasn’t so sure. He’d killed Dickson and destroyed the machine: some people in MI5 weren’t taking that lying down. ‘Look, do you mind if we don’t talk about that? It’s all sub judice now, and I expect you’ll be a witness at the Court Martial.’
‘My dear chap, I don’t think they’ll let me get within ten miles of it. Nor Adams.’ Henbury lapsed into silence, uncomfortable around all the paraphenalia of intensive care. ‘I’m going to see Emily.’
Thacker made the effort to sit up.
‘Are you sure?’
Henbury put his glasses back on. Thacker thought he looked years younger: surprising what some food, rest, and not having the threat of Ankhani hanging over his head had done.
‘No. No I’m not. But I look at it this way. If I don’t go, and the old girl dies, then I’ve missed my chance. We lost eighty years, thanks to my cousin. I don’t see why we shouldn’t have the last laugh. I’m going down tomorrow. Adams is coming too. He said he fancied a day at the seaside.’
‘So they’re treating you right? Not blaming you for what I did?’
‘Actually, I think they’re a bit scared of me. I’m not ashamed to use it to my advantage.’ Henbury looked with concern at the pallid, drawn figure in amongst all the tubes and wires. ‘You’d better get your rest, old chap.’
‘Better so they can hang me sooner.’ Thacker eased himself down with a groan. He felt trampled. The neurosurgeon had shown him the drill he’d used on Thacker’s skull, and it wasn’t even his head that hurt.
Henbury picked up his crutches and levered himself upright. ‘A strange do, what?’ he said with bemusement, and headed for the door.
‘Do you ever think about what happened in Banbury?’ asked Thacker suddenly. ‘Those people… the things they did.’
Henbury stopped. Without turning, he said: ‘I was in the trenches. I’d already had a thorough education in what men can do to each other, thank you very much.’
‘Dear God, I’m sorry.’ Thacker burned with embarrassment. ‘Robert? Get your revenge. Live long.’
Henbury twisted round on his one leg and smiled. ‘I have every intention of doing so, Major.’
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First published in England in 2005 by Telos Publishing Ltd
Digital edition converted and
Distributed in 2011 by
Andrews UK limited
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Cover by Simon Moore
This digital edition published in 2012 under license to Andrews UK Ltd
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Another War © 2005 Simon Morden
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