The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [502]
Wigram had argued with him: they had both argued with him. But in the end they had agreed that he was right. An officer of the Guides would be more likely to be believed than any Afghan who, apart from being paid for services rendered, might well have a personal or tribal antipathy towards the central government in Kabul and so be tempted to twist or be selective with information collected on the far side of the Border. Besides, what was needed now was no longer a matter of which disaffected tribe or local mullah was planning a raid into British India or inciting the Faithful to murder a few infidels, but whether an Amir of Afghanistan was engaged in plotting with the Russians, and if so, how far had he committed himself? Was he indeed preparing to welcome a Russian Mission to Kabul and sign a treaty of alliance with the Tsar, and were his people prepared to support him in this?
Reliable information on these points would be of the greatest possible value to the negotiators in Simla and Peshawar and to Her Majesty's Ministers in London, because such knowledge could mean all the difference between peace and war – which is to say life and death for thousands of human beings. And as Ash pointed out, there was nothing in the Guides' charter to bar an officer from ‘collecting trustworthy intelligence beyond as well as within our borders’. ‘Anyway, I've lived in the country and I know my way around there, so it isn't as if I shall be in any real danger,’ said Ash.
‘Gammon!’ retorted Wally angrily. ‘Don't talk as though we were a pair of sap-heads. You weren't alone last time, but this time you will be; which means that if ever you're tired or ill or wounded and make a slip, there'll be no one to cover it up for you. You'll be a lone stranger, and as such, an object of suspicion. Faith, it's sick you make me – both of you. But I wish to God I could be going with you and that's the truth. When do you mean to leave?’
‘As soon as Wigram can fix it with the Commandant. I can't go without his permission, and for all we know he may not give it.’
‘He will,’ said Wigram. ‘He's been just as worried about this business as I have – and half the Frontier Force too, for that matter. We're the ones who'll have to do the fighting if that gilded crew in Simla gets hold of the wrong end of the stick and proceeds to stir up a hornets' nest with it. He may take a bit of persuading, but I think you'll find that he'll see it as a good idea and a possible life-line. And Cavagnari will jump at it. It's just the sort of thing that will appeal to him no end.’
Wigram had been right on both counts.
The Commandant had been talked round, and the Deputy Commissioner had shown considerable enthusiasm for the idea. He had a love of the dramatic, and Ash's story as related to him by Captain Battye enthralled him: ‘But if he is to work for me I must see him before he goes, since it will be better if he reports direct to me through the only one of my agents whom I allow to come into Peshawar rather than to one of your men, who will be expected to take any message to you or your Commandant first, leaving one of you to bring it to me. That won't do: the less people involved in this the better – especially for his own safety, as I hope you will explain to him, and to your Commandant. A divided authority always leads to muddle, and as the type of information required will be of no use at regimental level, I prefer that the young man should work exclusively for me. And by the way if, as I understand, he is at present still on leave, I would