At Some Disputed Barricade_ A Novel - Anne Perry [147]
“Blanks?” Joseph interrupted sharply. “The army doesn’t issue blanks. Where did you get them?”
“We didn’t,” Cavan said. “We made them. It’s easy enough.”
“Is it safe?” Joseph pressed. “How did you know they wouldn’t still fire bullets? It looks as if one did.”
“No sir, it’s not possible. The bullet that fired was a live round.” Cavan again explained carefully exactly how a blank was made.
“Then one of the men replaced his blank after you had seen him load it?” Joseph deduced.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you know that at the time?”
“Of course not!” Cavan clenched his fists, and his voice shook. “Do you think we wanted this?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Joseph replied. “But we need to demonstrate it to the court. Who shot the live round?”
“I have no idea, sir, except I don’t believe it was I.”
“Why not?”
“The kick from a live round is different. I’d have felt it. From a blank there is no recoil.”
“You are a surgeon,” Joseph pointed out. “How do you know what firing a live round feels like?”
Cavan blushed faintly. “I’ve fought as well, sir. I have fired a rifle many times.”
There was a murmur around the room. Many knew of his V.C.
“Thank you, Captain Cavan.”
Faulkner rose to his feet.
Joseph swallowed, his mouth dry. He sat down.
“Yes, thank you, Captain Cavan,” Faulkner said. “I’m not sure how much of your story I believe, but I can think of only one thing further to ask you. Regarding these various men and their injuries, I imagine you will only repeat what you have already told us.” He smiled bleakly. “However, I am interested in the fact that when your eleven coconspirators in this…disciplinary action of yours chose to escape and run for a neutral country, leaving the battle front altogether, you did not. Why was that, Captain?”
“I had given my word not to, sir,” Cavan answered.
“And you are a man of the utmost honor?” Faulkner gave the question only the barest lift of interrogation. “So much so that you will remain to face a firing squad rather than break your given word?”
“Yes, sir. I would have imagined that as an officer yourself you would have understood that,” Cavan replied, the faintest edge of contempt in his expression.
Cavan had not seen the trap, but Joseph did. He felt the sweat break out on his skin and his stomach clench.
Faulkner smiled. “I do, Captain, I do. Who organized the escape of the other eleven men held prisoners with you?”
The heat in the room prickled. Someone shifted their weight and a board creaked.
“As you observed, sir,” Cavan replied. “I am an officer and I gave my word. I was not imprisoned with the men. I did not see them go, nor did I see who assisted them.”
“That was not exactly what I asked, Captain Cavan,” Faulkner pointed out. “I asked you if you knew who it was, not if you saw them. But as a matter of fact, Captain Morel went, and he is of the same rank as yourself, an officer! Were you not billeted together?”
“No, sir. Captain Morel was with the men.”
“Indeed? Why was that?”
“You must ask him, sir.”
“I will. You have not answered me as to who effected this…rescue. I accept that you did not see them. I asked you if you know who it was!”
Joseph rose to his feet, his legs stiff. “Sir!” he said to Hardesty, far too loudly. “If Captain Cavan did not see who it was, then he cannot know. Anything else would be no more than an educated guess, or what somebody else had said, and not evidence.” He had phrased it badly, forgotten his legal terminology.
“Quite,” Hardesty agreed. He looked at Faulkner. “You may consider the action reprehensible, Colonel, but hearsay evidence will not stand up. Captain Cavan has told you that he was imprisoned separately and did not see anyone. That is the answer to your question. Proceed.”
“I have nothing else,” Faulkner said curtly. “For this witness.”
Now it was Morel’s turn. He stood as stiff as Cavan had, but he was far leaner, almost haggard, all taut muscle and bone, his face thin, dark eyes hollow.
Joseph found his throat too tight to swallow. He had to clear it to speak. “Do you wish to amend anything in what