‘Since there now appears to be some element of doubt, Lieutenant Hatfield is willing to drop the charges against you,’ Maude continues, with a smile that could almost, but for its cold edges, have been considered benevolent. ‘Now that is good news, isn’t it?’
Jones and Clay say nothing.
‘Answer the officer!’ the sergeant bellows.
‘Yes, sir,’ Jones and Clay mumble in unison.
‘I can’t hear you!’ Maude says harshly.
‘Yes, sir,’ the two men repeat, louder this time.
Maude nods his head.
‘You’ve been lucky on this occasion,’ he tells Jones and Clay. ‘Very lucky. You are to return to your normal duties immediately, and, if I were you, I would take the first opportunity I got to thank Lieutenant Hatfield — through his sergeant, of course — for your release.’
Maude’s sergeant looks at the lieutenant, and when Maude nods, he says, ‘Dismissed.’
Jones and Clay salute, and then execute a smart military turn.
‘Just a second!’ Maude says. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’
Jones feels his heart sink. He has already spent one night in the lock-up, and he does not want to endure another.
‘Thank you, sir,’ he says, hoping that is what was expected.
‘Thank you?’ Maude repeats, mystified. ‘What are you thanking me for?’
Oh God, what does he want me to say, Jones thinks desperately. Oh God, oh God, oh God. .
‘For. . for taking the time to talk to us like this’ he says finally. ‘For explaining things.’
Maude scowls. ‘I’m your superior, not your kindly Uncle Fred,’ he says. ‘I neither expect, nor want, your thanks.’
‘Then I’m sorry, sir, but if it’s not that, I don’t know what. .’
‘I asked you if you had forgotten anything. Well, have you?’
‘No, sir, I don’t think so,’ says Jones, in a complete panic now. ‘At least I can’t-’
Maude raises his hand to silence him, then points with his index finger to the corner of the room.
‘Your rifle, man! Your bloody rifle!’
Jones feels an enormous sense of relief.
His rifle!
Of course!
The redcaps had relieved them of their rifles when they were arrested, and now both weapons are propped up in the corner.
‘Your rifle is your best and only true friend, Private Jones,’ Maude says. ‘It should be such a part of you that you feel incomplete without it.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but what with all the worry-’
Maude raises his hand to silence him again.
‘Collect your weapon and leave,’ he says.
Hatfield’s putting the two men on a charge in the first place had been a mistake, Blackstone thought, but withdrawing the charges was a bigger one — because there were only two possible conclusions that his superiors can draw from this.
The first conclusion was that Hatfield was publicly admitting that he’d been wrong — a fatal error on the part of an officer.
The second was even worse — that he had been so weak that his men had bullied him into backing down.
And whichever interpretation they chose to put on it, Hatfield had seriously damaged his career.
But perhaps having the two privates arrested had been nothing more than a small part of a bigger plan, in which Hatfield’s own military advancement was of no importance, Blackstone thought — a plan, formulated by Maude, of course! — which had come to fruition with the murder of Lieutenant Fortesque.
He closed his eyes, and tried to picture what might have happened shortly before Hatfield made his accusation.
Jones and Clay respect Lieutenant Fortesque — and even like him, as much as an enlisted man is ever allowed to like an officer — but they are still nervous about being summoned to his dugout without a sergeant in attendance.
Fortesque seems nervous himself.
‘I think of you men as my comrades,’ he says. ‘I would die to protect you, if that was necessary.’
You are not supposed to nod in the presence of an officer, but Jones and Clay can’t help themselves, because what Fortesque had just said is quite true.
‘I have reason to believe my life is in danger,’ Fortesque says.
Jones chuckles instinctively, then, realizing what he’s done, clamps his mouth tightly shut.
‘Have I said something funny, Private Jones?’ Fortesque asks angrily.
‘No, sir. Sorry, sir,’ Jones mumbles. ‘I didn’t mean to laugh, but of course your life’s in danger. All our lives are in danger. We’re all in the middle of a bloody war.’
Fortesque relaxes a little. ‘I apologize for not explaining myself more clearly. What I meant to say was that my life is in danger from someone in these trenches.’
Clay and Jones could not be more shocked if a German shell had landed just behind them.
‘Who’d want to kill you, sir?’ Clay asks.
And there, he would have had a problem, Blackstone thought. All the training he has received — all the assumptions he holds dear — tell him that he cannot criticize a brother officer to an enlisted man.
‘I can’t tell you who’s threatening me — not now,’ Fortesque says. ‘But I’d like you to watch my back for me, and if you see someone about to take my life, then for God’s sake step in — whoever that someone might be. Will you do that for me?’
‘Of course we will, sir,’ Jones and Clay say in unison.
Somehow, Maude finds out about the meeting, Blackstone thought. And when he does, he realizes that he will have to find a way to have the two privates removed if the plan is ever to be put into effect.
‘There was an offensive the next day. Did Clay and Jones survive it?’ he asked Mick hopefully.
The young soldier shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not.’
Of course they hadn’t. It would be far too easy if they had!
But maybe there was still a way to prove a link — and to tie that link to Maude and his pals.
‘Ask the other lads if they noticed Clay and Jones talking to Lieutenant Fortesque shortly before their arrest,’ he said.
‘Officers don’t talk to enlisted men,’ Mick pointed out.
‘Ask anyway,’ Blackstone said firmly.
‘Is that it?’ Mick asked, disappointedly.
‘No,’ Blackstone told him. ‘The other thing I want you to do is build up a picture of what life was like in that trench in those last few hours before Fortesque was murdered.’
‘It will have been like any other night in the trenches, won’t it?’ Mick asked, puzzled.
‘Mostly, it will,’ Blackstone agreed. ‘But there will have been things that happened that didn’t ordinarily happen, and I want you to find out about them, because they just might be connected to the murder.’
Enlightenment dawned on Mick’s face.
‘Before I met you, I thought that all coppers were good at was beating a confession out of lads like me, but you’ve got a real head on your shoulders,’ he said, with frank admiration.
Blackstone smiled at him. ‘Thanks, Mick.’
‘I’ll be back with everything you need to know in an hour,’ Mick said, enthusiastically.
Too soon! Far too soon!
‘I don’t want you going at it like a bull in a china shop, Mick,’ Blackstone warned. ‘I want you to be a little subtler than that.’