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happened to him.’
    â€˜Well, he had the misfortune to replace one of those men who are at the heart of every regiment. When they’re lost in tragic circumstances, they become even more revered. Tough for anyone to have to fill those shoes. Even so, no man is so unlovable he has no friends at all.’
    Spearing some cucumber with her fork, Connie took up that last point. ‘None of those four referred to him as Smithy. It’s the universal nickname for Smiths. Denying him even that points to real dislike, apart from inability to accept him in place of Jim Garson. He’d been with the West Wilts for eight months. Time enough to overcome resentment over their lost colleague, surely.’
    Heather sipped her tea. ‘Something must have happened that day to make the poor bastard so desperate to leave he was prepared to take such a risk. And someone knows what it was. We have to keep digging.’
    â€˜I’ll tell you one thing, Heather. I wouldn’t rate being befriended by those two we’ve just interviewed as much of a plus for anyone, even the lonely Smith.’
    Max returned to his room at lunchtime to shower, change his damp shirt and eat a light snack. The high temperature had reduced his appetite over the past few days.
    The dining room was sparsely occupied. It was not uncommon for people to regard Fridays as ending at noon so far as work was concerned. Max had even intended to take the entire day off until Tom had called him in from the river.
    George Maddox admitted they received plenty of mischievous calls leading nowhere, and Max believed this must be one of them. Smith was probably now happily ensconced with a fräulein and chuckling over his escape from arduous soldiering. After all, if one of his fellow squaddies had wanted him out of the way, surely he would have knifed him in the guts down some dark alley in town on a Saturday night, making it impossible to trace the perpetrator.
    Taking up a cheese salad from the counter, Max headed for a table by the window. He then diverted to another where a woman dressed in a khaki skirt and shirt with neatly rolled-up sleeves sat alone, eating salad too. She looked up as he neared and sent Max’s thoughts in a much more pleasant direction.
    â€˜I’m sticking my neck out here,’ he said with a smile. ‘If you’d prefer to eat alone I’ll take myself off.’
    It seemed very likely that she would tell him to do just that. Her cool optical appraisal practically voiced a rejection, so he hastily explained why he had approached her.
    â€˜A Medical Corps captain who’s a stranger in the Mess. Our new MO is a woman, I’ve just been informed. I put those two together and deduced that you are she. I’m Max Rydal, SIB. As we’ll liaise now and then I thought we should get to know each other.’
    The appraisal continued until she said, ‘You don’t look too fearsome standing there with a salad in your hand. Why not sit here and eat it?’
    He settled, facing her. ‘If we’re talking fearsome , I heard a rumour that you’re on the warpath.’
    Blue-grey eyes regarded him candidly. ‘Word gets around quickly. Yes, I’m on the warpath. That exercise should have been curtailed. Men should not have been put under such duress in these temperatures.’
    Taking in her no-nonsense blonde hair, sensible make-up and immaculate shirt (didn’t women sweat in the heat?), Max said mildly, ‘They’re soldiers, ma’am.’
    â€˜They’re human animals like the rest of us.’
    â€˜Ah, but the rest of us don’t have to fight in hot countries. The West Wilts are scheduled for Afghanistan in October.’
    Her eyes sparkled. ‘My views on that war can’t be aired on military property.’
    Noting the gold band on her left hand, Max asked, ‘Does your husband agree with them?’
    Again the candid appraisal. ‘You’re very