‘I think we hit something,’ said Leo, driving on as before. ‘There was nothing to see.
‘We’d better stop. Go back, in fact.’
‘Why, for Jesus’ sake?’
‘Because our number-plates are illuminated. Have you forgotten what happened to that corporal in 3 Troop who knocked a child down and didn’t report it? And he was riding his horse and carrying out an officer’s order.’
‘I agree with him,’ said Dmitri.
‘Fuck all,’ said Leo violently, and trod on the brake. Some minutes later Alexander said, ‘Here. Just at the start of the bend. It was on my side, wasn’t it?’
‘There’s nothing there,’ said Leo.
‘Wait.’
Taking the torch from its clip under the dashboard,
Alexander got out, walked across the road and at once saw a roughly circular pool of blood a dozen centimetres in diameter. A trail of button-sized drops led into the verge, where it virtually disappeared among the grass, so that even if he had wanted to he would not have been able to follow it. Without thought he raised his head and listened, and at the same moment, as if in response, Leo switched off the engine. In the huge stillness and darkness Alexander heard a cry, very faint or distant. He could not identify it, but then, as he realised, he could not have done so if it had come from five metres off. It was not repeated. He went back to the car.
‘You were quite right,’ he told Leo. ‘There’s nothing there.’
The rest of the journey back to quarters passed in complete silence. The presence of a light in the squadron ante-room turned out to indicate that Boris the commissary, unusually for him, was neither working nor sleeping but instead drinking a glass of beer and glancing through an out-of-date newspaper. He had unfastened his collar to be comfortable and on the entry of the others went hastily to hook it up again before deciding that it was best left as it was. Smiling and nodding his head to them, he got to his feet.
‘What on earth are you doing here, Boris?’ asked Leo. ‘At this time.’
‘He’s been bringing the accounts up to date, haven’t you, Boris?’ said Victor.
‘He might tell us if we give him a chance,’ said Dmitri.
Boris gave an amused laugh. ‘I can’t see what you fellows find so extraordinary. There’s an audit next week and naturally I need to clear my desk. George was playing billiards at the regiment and the major wanted an early night. So I worked late and dropped in for a final beer. Is that so strange?’
‘Not a bit, Boris, not a bit,’ said Leo. ‘You make it sound as natural as breathing.’
There was a short pause. Then Boris said, ‘I suppose you four have been out raising hell somewhere.’
‘We had a tremendous party,’ said Victor. ‘Really tremendous. I think there was singing but I can’t remember for certain. That’s how I know it was a tremendous party. And now what I need is another drink.’
‘Not long ago you were going on about having had enough,’ said Leo.
‘Was I? Well, that was not long ago, you see. Not long ago isn’t the same thing. As now. What I need now is another drink. Where’s that confounded Ochotnitscha?’ Victor began to root clumsily in a cupboard behind the little bar. ‘That thieving peasant of a mess waiter must have taken it to bed with him. Oh, I beg his pardon.’ He poured himself a drink and held up the bottle. ‘Anybody else? You are a miserable lot. I say, Alexander, would you mind signing the chit? I’ll give you the cash in the morning.’
‘Well, gentlemen,’ said Leo loudly, ‘there’s obviously only one way for men of spirit to round off the evening, eh, Victor?’
‘A morsel of Russian hide-and-seek?’
‘Correct. Who’ll join us? Dmitri? Alexander?’
Dmitri agreed; Alexander declined. They all knew him here, had what was by now a settled view of his attributes. And the presence of even the highest grade of visitor (that most worth impressing, in other words) would hardly have got him out into the dark to be shot at. Appearing reckless was one thing, being it very much another. The other three were about to fetch their weapons from upstairs when Boris said indignantly,
‘Isn’t anyone going to ask me?’
‘I’m sorry, Boris,’ said Leo, sounding quite unrepentant, ‘but I’ve rather got out of the habit of thinking of you in this connection.’
‘I’m not a man of spirit, is that it?’
Swaying slightly, Victor patted Boris on the shoulder. ‘You’ve got lots of other very fine qualities, old chap.’
‘I’ll show you who’s a man of spirit,’ said Boris, who had flushed deeply. ‘Can any of you lend me a revolver?’
‘Don’t go, Boris,’ said Alexander; ‘don’t be a fool.’
‘Kindly be quiet, young man, this is no affair of yours. -Yes, Boris, I can and gladly will supply your requirement. We’ll be down directly.’
As soon as they were alone, Alexander said with real urgency, ‘Change your mind. You can still get out of it. Who cares what they think, those idiots?’
‘I do. I can’t get out of it without tremendous loss of face.’
‘Better lose face than… All right, but now listen. The only reason that lot are still alive is that they all break the rules. Listen, Boris. You’re supposed not to move after you’ve called out. But you must. Move like hell. Run, call out and keep going. Or dodge into cover. Have you got that? If you stand still you’ll die.’
‘Don’t worry, Alexander, I can take care of myself.’
‘I’m not sure you can, not in a thing like this.’
‘Whereas I’m absolutely invulnerable when it comes to wielding a pen. Thank you very much.’
‘Oh, merciful Heaven, I wasn’t-’
‘I’m only joking. Keep on the move, I got that. Now don’t worry. Honestly, I promise you I’ll be quite all right.’
‘See you stick to that.’
When his four brother-officers had gone off together, Alexander stood listening till they were out of earshot. Then he strolled to the bar, poured himself a vodka and downed it in one (he had not drunk as much as he had affected to at Wright’s), poured another, took a cigarette from the imitation-sandalwood box on the counter and lit it from the large metamatch that also stood there. After marking up the chit he had signed a little earlier he settled down to wait in a chair by the window. The lights on the ante-room dial showed twenty-two minutes past midnight; not really late at all, and he felt wide awake now, just incredibly tired. He reached across for the newspaper Boris had laid aside.
All at once terrible screams began to be heard, coming from a point some hundreds of metres away but evidently so loud at their source that none of their overtones was impaired by the distance. No identification was possible; indeed, no one could have told by the sound alone whether they came from a man or a woman or even a large animal. They had a grinding, perhaps a tearing quality, as if the throat that uttered them would soon have destroyed itself.
Within five seconds Alexander was out of the ante-room door and running at top speed down a grassy slope in the eventual direction of the lodge. The screams continued unabated but other voices were being raised too, murmurs and shouts of inquiry, puzzlement, horror. The sky was clear and there was a quarter moon, and this was quickly supplemented by lights being turned on in buildings and by the beams of torches. Figures in ones and twos were converging on what, as Alexander drew nearer, he saw to be one of the pillared structures of which there were several in the park and in another of which, weeks ago now, Theodore and he had sat and plotted. He caught a glimpse of a shallow flight of stone steps and a grey-uniformed man lying on them, but by the time he was ten metres off his view was blocked by dozens of excited soldiers, many of them half-naked in the heat. Somebody was shouting and shoving at them from the far side, trying to keep them off: Victor. Beyond him the man on the steps, still screaming, was being lifted into a carrying position by two others. The nearer of these looked up and saw Alexander as soon as he broke through the chattering circle.
‘It’s Leo,’ said Boris. He had to speak at the top of his voice. ‘But Boris, I was sure it was you,’ said Alexander, though no one could have heard him. Someone who had might have thought he sounded disappointed.