‘How did that happen?’ Russell asked.
‘As I’ve told you,’ Harkaway said. ‘He was caught in an ambush.’ He had no intention of saying too much. He’d learned from his father and his grandfather the art of letting your great deeds speak for themselves and your mistakes go unrecorded.
Wye tried to pump him but he refused to be drawn and in the end the newspaperman shrugged.
‘Oh, well, how about a photograph, Colonel?’
‘Have you permission from the press officer?’
‘Well, no.’
‘Then, sorry.’
Russell lifted his camera. ‘Couldn’t we just - ?’
‘No, you couldn’t,’ Harkaway snapped. ‘And if you use that thing, I’ll have my chaps arrest you and destroy your film. So you’d better not. They can be rough.’
Russell lowered the camera and looked at Wye. Wye backed out of the tent.
‘Christ, he’s changed a bit,’ he muttered. ‘Talk about the Old Guard. Somebody’s stuffed a ramrod up his arse. Or else he’s had a rocket from the general.’ He paused. He, too, had finally discovered who Harkaway was and he’d also heard the stories going round the camp. Harkaway was obviously expecting to be taken back into the fold - if not forgiven, at least forgotten. But, as Wye knew, the army had a long memory. Having once sacked him, they didn’t intend to have him back. He’d keep his rank, but he’d go no higher and when the war was over, he’d be out on his ear. He wasn’t surprised. An indifferent polite officer often went further than a good rude one.
He looked at Russell. ‘Hang on,’ he said. ‘There’s something else.’
Harkaway looked up as he re-entered the tent.
‘I’ve a message for you, Colonel,’ Wye said. ‘Almost forgot it. I got it from Miss Ortton-Daniells in Bidiyu.’
Harkaway looked interested for the first time. He’d thought more of Danny than he’d ever dared show. Ambition had had to come first, but he’d never intended to let her slip through his fingers and it was time now to put things right between them.
Wye was leafing through his notebook. ‘I wrote it down,’ he said. ‘She seemed anxious you should get it just as she said it. Ah!’ He flicked a page. ‘Here it is. “Tell Colonel Harkaway,” she said, “that I’m going to South Africa. Tell him that Kom-Kom - “ ‘ Russell looked up. ‘Have I got that right, Colonel?’
‘Yes. You’ve got it right.’
‘ “Tell Colonel Harkaway that I’m going to South Africa. Tell him that Kom-Kom has asked me to marry him and that I’m going to, because Kom-Kom isn’t an ambitious man and he knows how to be kind.” ‘
Harkaway was sitting rigidly at the table. His expression had become stiff and bleak. Wye studied him for a moment.
‘You got that, Colonel?’
‘Yes, I’ve got it.’
‘Make sense?’
‘Yes,’ Harkaway said. ‘It makes sense.’
‘Wouldn’t be a story in it, would there? Personal story, for instance. Concerning Miss Ortton-Daniells and this Kom-Kom. Something that has nothing to do with the army.’
Harkaway rose and lit a cigarette. ‘No,’ he said carefully. ‘I shouldn’t think so. I shouldn’t think it would be worth your while.’