The Military Philosophers - Anthony Powell [80]
‘I saw your name as Belgian Liaison Officer in London on some document passed to us,’ he said. ‘Then found you were personally conducting this flight of swans. We run here parallel in a curious way with Army Group, and there are one or two things that could be straightened out if we had a talk. The usual stuff, Leopold’s marriage, the Resistance lads. When do you go back?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Then if we had a talk tonight we could straighten out some points about policy. We’re very full of work at the moment, as I expect you are too.’
This was a rather different tone from the Duport of former days. We went to the recommended brasserie, as he had no better suggestion. He seemed to have lost some of his old interest in material things. For a time we talked Belgian affairs. Dupont knew all about Kucherman, but had not met him.
‘He’s one of the ablest blokes they’ve got,’ he said. ‘However let’s give the subject a rest now. You were cremating your uncle when we last met.’
‘How did you come to join the army? At the Bellevue you were talking of sweating it out in South America, if war came.’
‘South America wasn’t on. As you know I was on my uppers at that moment. Then I got a chance of going to Egypt for a firm that wanted to wind up one of their branches there. Donners had an interest and managed to get me out. Getting back was another matter. The chance of a commission turned up. I took it. Wanted to get into one of the secret shows, but didn’t bring it off. I was in the Censorship for a time. Not much to be recommended. Then I had a bad go of Gyppy tummy – with complications. That was what ultimately brought me back to Europe and the mob I now belong to.’
‘You haven’t seen anything of Peter Templer, have you? Donners was helping to fix him up too – something in the cloak-and-dagger line – but I haven’t heard what came of it.’
Duport finished his glass.
‘Peter’s had it,’ he said.
‘Do you mean he’s been killed?’
‘Gone for a Burton.’
‘On a secret operation?’
‘Yes.’
‘I suppose nobody knows more than that?’
Duport hesitated.
‘It never struck me you wouldn’t have heard about Peter,’ he said. ‘There was a lot of talk about it all in Cairo – not the best security imaginable, but then Cairo is not a place for the best security. There was certainly a lot of talk.’
‘What happened?’
‘I daresay Peter’s still officially described as missing, but everyone in the know is aware he’s dead, even though the details vary. One story was he was murdered by his wireless operator for the money he had on him, but I happen to know that isn’t true. We’ll go to another place for the next round.’
We left the brasserie and found a café. It was less crowded.
‘Does Prince Theodoric mean anything to you?’ asked Duport.
‘He’s done business with our Section once or twice, but not recently – and of course not on the secret operations level.’
‘You knew Peter was involved in that quarter?’
‘More or less.’
‘I always have a fellow feeling for the Prince, though we’ve never met,’ said Duport. ‘He and I always seem to be screwing the same ladies. Bijou Ardglas, for example, now, poor girl, in the arms of Jesus. Have you heard of a young woman called Pamela Flitton?’
‘Volumes.’
‘You know she was the main cause of Peter’s trouble?’
‘I was told that – but people don’t go and get killed because a piece like that won’t sleep with them.’
‘Well, not exactly, I agree,’ said Duport. ‘It was more Peter felt he was slowing up, as I see it. The point is that it all builds up round Theodoric. As you know the good Prince’s realm is internally divided as to how best repel the invader. One lot wants one thing, the other, another. Peter went in with the Prince’s gang.’
‘Was someone called Odo Stevens mixed