James’s torch caught a familiar cap badge and dwelt for a second on the identifying thistle and the swaggering motto – Nemo me impune lacessit. ‘No one provokes me and gets away with it!’ James translated and smiled as, below the cap, the light picked up black curling hair, dazzled dark eyes in a lean and smoke-blackened face, the flash of white teeth bared in a grimace against the glare of the torch. ‘Can’t say I haven’t been warned!’ James thought.
What do you say to a total stranger in a place like this? What James did say, extending a dirty hand was, ‘You’re a long way from the Borders?’
‘Bugger the Borders!’ came the reply. ‘And put that bloody torch down!’
That was all they had time to say because at that moment a German mortar bomb came lumbering over the line, ricocheted from the parapet and fell straight into the trench some yards away. They dug each other out and spent the rest of that campaign fighting shoulder to shoulder and sometimes back to back, both amazed to have survived. James, the bolder of the two, came through the war unscathed. Joe, the more calculating and more careful of life whether his own or that of his men, did not. A head wound put Joe out of action for a while but not out of the war. His injury chanced to coincide with the virtual collapse of the Russian front. Bolshevik infiltration of Imperial Russian units was detected and people began to say, ‘If it can happen to them it can happen to the Indian units on the Western Front. The Jerries are nothing if not skilled propagandists, you know.’ And Joe found himself moved out of the shooting war and pushed in at the spearhead of the Military Intelligence operation to identify and counter the infiltration. His quick wits, his language skills and personal knowledge of the battle arena brought him success and esteem and his abilities had not gone unremarked when, after the war, he had decided to join the police force.
James had spoken lightly but, truly, he was curious to know the secret of his old friend’s rapid promotion to his present eminence in the police force. He remembered the derision with which he and other friends had greeted Joe’s decision to leave the army and become a policeman. ‘’ullo, ’ullo, ’ullo! Wot’s all this ’ere, then?’ they would say whenever they met Joe, and James had admired the patience with which Joe had received these sallies.
‘Promotion?’ said Joe, reading the cable again. ‘Quite the reverse! It would appear I’ve been demoted to escort duties! Army Nanny? Military Gigolo? Not sure . . . What do you make of this?’
Silently Joe handed the cable to James. ‘Just read this rubbish and use your wits. How the hell do I get out of this? Sir George! God Almighty! After the last round I thought he was my friend!’
‘He is your friend. He’s everybody’s friend. Yours, mine, intimate friend of every scoundrel, eyes in the back of his head, a finger in every pie and a foot in both camps, shouldn’t wonder. But he obviously has an especially high opinion of you. It’s no secret, I think, that you were of considerable help to him down in Bengal. Cleared up that series of killings. Your reputation stretches to the limits of Empire, you see!’
Joe snorted.
‘Got your man, didn’t you?’
‘The case was concluded successfully in the eyes of the establishment,’ said Joe carefully. ‘And that’s as much as I can say, even to you, James. My hands were tied with red tape and I was gagged with a wad of moral blackmail. The Empire was served but not Justice.’
‘Oh, I say! Less said, the better, eh? And then he sent you off up to the Simla hills to cool off?’
‘Ostensibly. He shot me straight into a year-old unsolved murder that had been nagging at him and this was followed the minute I arrived by a second similar killing. Before you ask – yes, I solved that one too. Though “solved” is perhaps an overstatement. The killer is known to me and to Sir George but, the demands of diplomacy perpetually overriding those of justice in India, I’m afraid there’s a murderer still at large in the country.’
‘That wouldn’t suit Honest Joe!’
‘No. It’s not white as the untrodden snow in England but at least I know what the rules are and so do the villains. George has a compulsion to find out the truth – oh, yes, he likes to know what’s really gone on – but then, instead of letting the law take its due course, he diverts it, runs it down channels he’s dug himself. It goes against everything I believe in! Cover-ups, pretence, turning a blind eye – it’s not my style, James! I admire but I don’t approve.’
‘No, you never were much of a politician, Joe. But you’re safe from his machinations out here at least. Plenty of shooting going on but it’s all above board! But there can’t be anything sinister in this request, can there? Dancing attendance on an American girl? Some would jump at the chance.’