Soldier of Fortune

That night, however, it was Daniel's turn to lose. Though he was by far the more skilful player, his mind was filled with the image of Abigail Piper, struggling to reach him. Wondering what had happened to her, and feeling guilty that he had unwittingly prompted her to follow him, he had several lapses of concentration. Hopwood was quick to seize the advantage, earning back some of the money he had lost in previous games. No matter how hard Daniel tried to oust Abigail from his thoughts, she kept coming back to trouble him. He knew that he would never forgive himself if any harm came to her.

'Another game?' asked Hopwood, winning yet again.

'It's late, Richard.'

'One more — your luck may change this time.'

'Very well,' agreed Daniel, 'but you'll have to excuse me for a minute while I answer the call of nature.'

Daniel stood up, the sudden movement creating a draught that made both of the flames dance crazily. He went out of the tent and made his way to the latrines that had been dug some distance away. A fire was burning to give him some guidance. When he had relieved himself, he chatted for a few moments to some of the guards who were patrolling the camp, then he returned to his tent. As he pulled back the flap, he was surprised to see that both candles had been blown out, leaving a haunting smell of smoke.

Assuming that Hopwood had decided against playing again and had instead gone back to his own tent, Daniel moved forward in the dark. Before he could stop himself, he tripped over something and fell to the ground. He got up quickly, groped his way to a candle and managed to light it after a few attempts. The sight that it illumined made him gape in horror. Richard Hopwood had not only been killed.

Someone had removed his head.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The alarm was raised at once. Captain Daniel Rawson gathered his men together and formed them into search parties to scour the camp. With flaming torches to guide them, they went off quickly in different directions. Sergeant Henry Welbeck added a few barked expletives to help them on their way.

'What exactly happened, Dan?' he asked, turning to his friend.

'I wish I knew,' replied Daniel, heaving a sigh. 'Richard Hopwood and I were playing backgammon. I went off to the latrines. By the time I got back, he was dead.'

'How was he killed?'

'Stabbed then decapitated.'

'Jesus!'

'The head has disappeared. What kind of monster wants that as a trophy? And why pick on someone as harmless as Richard?'

'Can I see him?'

'Yes, of course — come in, Henry.'

Daniel pulled back the flap of the tent and went inside.

Welbeck followed him. The second candle had been lit now and the combined light of two flames showed the body of Richard Hopwood, lying on his back with a pool of blood where his head had once been. The rear of the tent had been slit open from top to bottom. Welbeck was aghast. He was accustomed to gruesome sights in battle but not in the safety of the British camp. Such a brutal murder was unprecedented.

'Poor devil!' he murmured.

'I think that the killer came in through the front,' said Daniel, trying to reconstruct the crime. 'Richard was at the table with his back to the flap. Thinking it was me, he wouldn't have turned round when he heard someone entering the tent. If he saw someone cutting his way in through the canvas, however, he would certainly have defended himself. The noise alone would have alerted him. He'd have been on his feet in a flash. Instead of which,' he went on, indicating a stool, 'he sat there without the slightest fear of danger.'

'So he was stabbed from behind then his head was cut off.'

'That's the way it looks, Henry. The stool was on the floor as if it had been knocked over. Once he'd got what he wanted, the killer made his escape through that slit in the canvas.'

'How long were you away, Dan?'

'Too long, I'm afraid.'

'It's so unfair,' said Welbeck lugubriously. 'Lieutenant Hopwood had only been in the army five minutes. Until that ambush today, he'd never seen action. I pity him.'

'I feel sorry for the Duke as well,' said Daniel. 'He'll have to explain to Richard's family what happened. It won't be an easy letter to write. The Duke hates losing men in combat even though that's inevitable. To lose an officer this way will really upset him.'

'It's upset me as well, Dan.'

'We'll find the bastard who did this.'

'Who on earth can it be?'

'There are only two possibilities in my view, Henry. It's either one of our own, someone from inside this camp, or it's someone from outside who was helped by a British soldier.'

'I find that hard to believe.'

'Look at the facts,' reasoned Daniel. 'The killer had to know the precise location of this tent. No outsider would have that information. Nor would he know where the pickets were posted. And there's another thing,' he went on, crossing to open the slit in the canvas. 'This escape route was planned. There are no tents behind this one but hundreds in front of it. Anyone leaving here could be in the trees within seconds.' He looked at his friend. 'We have a traitor in our midst, Henry.'

'Give him to me,' said Welbeck. 'I'll cut off more than his head.'

'We have to find him first.'

'I'll soon sniff the bugger out, Dan.'

'You may be too late to do that, I fear,' said Daniel, looking down sorrowfully at the corpse. 'After a murder like this, the villain would never risk staying in camp. I think the bird will have flown.'

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

Charles Catto had made all the necessary preparations. Having taken the trouble to inspect the camp thoroughly, he knew exactly where he could smuggle Frederic Seurel in past the sentries and how to conduct him to Daniel Rawson's tent without being seen. When the murder had been committed, Seurel followed his orders and slit open the back of the tent, darting through the gap with a severed head in the small sack he had brought with him. Catto was waiting to lead him out of the camp. The hue and cry was raised faster than he had expected but Catto had allowed for that contingency. Having taken Seurel to a secure hiding place within the perimeter of the camp, he joined in the search, making sure that nobody went anywhere near his accomplice.

It was over an hour before the commotion finally died down. Catto was at last able to slip away, liberate Seurel from his refuge and escape from the camp with him. Their horses had been hidden over a mile away. When they had reclaimed them, they rode off until they were a long way clear of the army encampment. It was only then that they were able to congratulate each on the way that their plan had worked. They stopped near an abandoned cottage and dismounted. Seurel was grinning at his triumph.

'It was so easy,' he boasted, holding up the blood-soaked sack. 'I took him from behind. I put an arm round his neck and stabbed him through the heart.' He mimed the action. 'His head was soon off.'

'You did well, Frederic,' said Catto.

'Does that mean I get more money?'

'You get what we agreed.'

'I should have equal payment,' argued Seurel, tapping his chest. 'I killed him, after all.'

'Yes,' countered Catto, 'but who got inside the camp to make it possible? You could never have done that. Besides, it wasn't you that General Salignac chose for this assignment. He picked me and told me to choose my own accomplice and pay him what I thought fit. That's how you come to be here, Frederic. You agreed to my terms.'

'That was before I knew what I had to do.'

'There's no going back on our arrangement now.'

'I think I deserve some reward,' said Seurel.

'I'll mention that to the General,' said Catto. 'You'll certainly get no more from me than we decided at the outset. But let's not haggle over money at a time like this,' he went on, adopting a more amiable tone. 'Our work is done. All we have to do is to present this little gift to General Salignac then we can go off to spend our money.' He nudged his friend. 'Take him out — I want to see Captain Rawson.'