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retraining programme in Scotland, a lot of thought and a great deal of work has gone into the preparation of another new force in Special Operations. Out of necessity, we have to work with the other services, and from time to time our army opposite numbers have thought fit to criticise the Corps for not being volunteers for this particular sort of work. For my part, I have read reports by our own people who have described the military participation, particularly in Malaya and in Burma, which you will know very well, as amateurish.’ He gave a slight smile. ‘I have pointed out to my superiors that this is not a contest between ourselves. Competition is always healthy, but not at the expense of results.’
    He turned over some papers, but Blackwood thought it was to give him time, or to allow the formidable Diamond to form his own opinion.
    â€˜The retreat from Burma was deplorable. Good men lost, valuable ground thrown away. The stable-door mentality, like Hong Kong and Singapore. A close thing. Too close. Some say that the link between East and West will never recover.’ He patted the papers with his neat fingers. ‘We will cross
that
bridge when we come to it.’
    Diamond was tapping out a massive pipe into the lid of a tobacco tin.
    He said, ‘You handled yourself well. You took charge of some old, clapped-out launches and local craft and helped get our troops across the Irrawaddy. It wasn’t Dunkirk, and this time we could not have afforded to lose another army! Your commanding officer recommended you for a decoration.’ He glared at his pipe and the ashes on the lid. ‘Probably got bogged down somewhere.’
    The major coughed politely. ‘Things are moving in the Mediterranean, faster than we dared to hope. The Eighth Army stopped Rommel at El Alamein. It was not a fluke this time – the Germans are in retreat. We’re getting results!’
    It was the closest Blackwood had seen him to excitement.
    Major Porter continued, ‘The plan is to send a small force of commandos to North Africa. One hundred men, no more at this stage. You will have full co-operation from the navy, and the army can think what it likes. Anyway . . .’ Again the small, private smile. ‘The Prime Minister is behind us, so that can’t be a bad thing. You would be second-in-command.’ He frowned as the phone jangled again. ‘Your last C.O. suggested that.’
    Blackwood imagined he had missed something. Strain, fatigue; or was he just bomb-happy like all the others?
    â€˜Major Gaillard.’
    The silence was complete, like going suddenly deaf.
    The telephone rang again, and he heard himself say, ‘I – I’m sorry, sir.’ He saw them looking at him, and tried again. ‘You see, I thought he was dead.’ A voice insisted,
you know he is dead. You saw him fall.
‘On the Irrawaddy.’
    Major Porter studied him calmly. ‘He was wounded, but he is very much alive. His information was invaluable, and it seemed better to keep his recovery off the record.’
    The hatch was open from the confessional, and Commander Diamond swivelled round in his chair with some difficulty.
    â€˜Yes? Speaking, sir. I have the documents ready for you.’
    But his deepset eyes were on Blackwood, as Porter pressed, ‘You agree, then? This is a Top Secret operation, but I don’t have to spell it out for you.’
    The telephone had gone and the hatch was shut again. Diamond beamed, and jammed his pipe in his pocket.
    â€˜Good to meet you, Blackwood.’ He glanced at the door; the formalities were over. ‘I shall expect you here tomorrow. Same time.’ He heaved his heavy body from the chair. ‘You got along all right with Gaillard, I hope?’ The door opened, and the same Wren was waiting there with Diamond’s cap. He did not wait for an answer.
    Blackwood half-listened to the muted rumble of London’s traffic far