Exodus - Leon Uris [59]
“Then hire some informers, sir,” Caldwell said, “and at least know what they are planning.”
“You can’t buy a Jewish informer,” Alistair said; “they stick together like flies. Every time we think we have one he sends us on a wild-goose chase.”
“Then crack down on them,” Caldwell snapped; “put the fear of God into them.”
“Freddie, Freddie, Freddie,” Sutherland said in dismay, lighting his pipe. “There is nothing we can do to frighten those people. They are graduates of concentration camps. You remember Bergen-Belsen, Freddie? Do you think we can do anything worse to them?”
Major Alistair was beginning to be sorry that he had asked Fred Caldwell to come in with him. He showed absolutely no latitude in his thinking. “Brigadier,” Alistair said quickly, “we are all soldiers here. None the less I’d be less than honest if I reported to you that everything was peaceful at Caraolos and that I thought we’d be wise to continue to just sit and wait for trouble.”
Sutherland rose, clasped his hands behind him, and began to pace the room thoughtfully. He puffed his pipe for several moments and tapped the stem against his teeth. “My mission here on Cyprus is to keep these camps quiet until our government decides what it intends to do with the Palestine mandate. We are not to risk anything that could bring adverse propaganda.”
Fred Caldwell was angry. He simply could not understand why Sutherland chose to sit and let the Jews drum up trouble. It was beyond him.
Allan Alistair understood but did not agree. He favored a quick counterblow to upset any Jewish plans in Caraolos. None the less, all he could do was present the information; it was up to Brigadier Sutherland to act upon it. Sutherland, in his estimation, was being unreasonably soft.
“Is there anything else?” the brigadier asked.
“Yes, one more problem now, sir.” Alistair thumbed through his papers. “I would like to know if the brigadier has studied the report on this American woman, Katherine Fremont, and the correspondent, Mark Parker?”
“What about them?”
“Well, sir, we are not certain if she is his mistress, but the fact that she has gone to work at Caraolos certainly coincides with his entry into Cyprus. From past experience we know that Parker has anti-British leanings.”
“Rubbish. He is an excellent reporter. He did a splendid job at the Nuremberg trials. We made a costly blunder once in Holland and the man found it and reported it. That was his job.”
“Are we correct in assuming, sir, that it is quite Possible Mrs. Fremont’s going to work in Caraolos may have something to do with helping Parker do an exposé of the camp?”
“Major Alistair, I hope that if you are ever brought to trial for murder the jury will not hang you on such evidence as you have just placed before me.”
Little red patches dotted Alistair’s cheeks.
“This Fremont Woman happens to be one of the best pediatric nurses in the Middle East. She was cited by the Greek government for doing an outstanding job in an orphanage in Salonika. That is also in your report. She and Mark Parker have been friends since childhood. That is also in your report. It is also in your report that the Jewish welfare people sought her out. Tell me, Major Alistair ... you do read your reports, don’t you?”
“But ... sir ...”
“I haven’t finished. Let us assume that the very worst of your suspicions are well founded. Let us assume that Mrs. Fremont is gathering information for Mark Parker. Let us say that Mark Parker writes a series of articles about Caraolos. Gentlemen, this is the end of 1946 ... the war has been over for a year and a half. People are generally sick and tired of, and rather unimpressed with, refugee stories. What will impress people is our throwing