Psychomech Read Online Free PDF Page B

as I’ve said, but I’ve killed off the memories. Do you understand that? In my mind, I’ve killed them off. There’s nothing bitter in there any more.’ He had shrugged. ‘Once you know how to do it it’s easy. This blindness is something I’ll kill off too. Hell, this has nothing to do with being hard! I knew what I was doing when I joined the Army, and when I volunteered for NI. And when I took Schroeder into the Europa, I… I somehow knew—I mean, I really—’
    ‘But—’ Marchant had started to speak when Garrison faltered.
    ‘Look,’ the Corporal had turned on him then, his face dead white around and behind his dark glasses. ‘The only difference between you and me is that you can see. I have to learn to “see” all over again, and without the benefit of eyes. But I’ll tell you this: when I can see again, I’ll see a damn sight straighter than you. For one thing, I won’t have the problem of peering round a big fat stiff upper lip!’
    ‘Sir!’ Major Marchant had snapped, and immediately wished he could bite his tongue off. He had only recently achieved his majority and enjoyed being called sir. He had been “sir” as a Captain, of course, but somehow it hadn’t meant so much. Now, this Corporal—this blind Corporal whose confidential reports had never failed to note the chip on his shoulder, or rather the absence of chinks in his armour—seemed to be trying to make a mockery of the whole thing. The man was an opportunist, without doubt, and he certainly intended making gain out of his disability. His insubordinate attitude was sufficient proof of that. Very well, fair enough to play the game for monetary gain; but to take advantage of a senior officer’s natural compassion—
    ‘Sir?’ Garrison had slowly answered. ‘Listen, sir . In a couple of weeks’ time the Army is going to boot me out. Pension me off. Send me a card every Christmas and a copy of the Corps Journal four times a year. Hey! And you know something, they’ll really do that! Some idiot will send Journals—and me blind’ as a bat! And you want me to call you sir? Now? What’ll you do if I refuse? Court martial me?’
    After which they had sat in silence. The journey had not been a pleasant one.
    Similarly irritating for Major Marchant was the way in which Garrison accepted the idea of a silver Mercedes waiting alongside the runway as the big jet trundled to a halt. He hadn’t even smiled at Marchant’s exclamation when he and the Major were called forward, first to disembark. Then there had been the curt, typically German handshakes at the foot of the travelling ramp, and Marchant shown into the rear of the car while the uniformed chauffeur took Garrison’s white stick and assisted him into the front passenger’s seat. But then again, it was Garrison this mysterious German industrialist wanted to see. Major Marchant could not then have realized, however, the very small part he himself was to play in the rest of the thing.
    He was soon to discover his own insignificance, though; for as the great silent silver Mercedes drove out of the airport and into Hannover itself Koenig half-turned and said: ‘Excuse me, Herr Major, but at which hotel have you arranged accommodation?’
    ‘Hotel?’ Marchant raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Herr, er, Koenig? We are to stay as the guests of Thomas Schroeder, at his estate in the Harz.’
    ‘Ah, no, Herr Major. It is you who are mistaken. The Corporal is to stay there. No such arrangements have been made for you. A message was sent, but obviously too late.’
    ‘But, I—’
    ‘The Colonel’ has instructed me that in this case I am to take you to the Hotel International in Hannover. You shall stay there at no expense to yourself. Whatever you need, take it. If you wish for something, ask for it. If they haven’t got it, demand it and it will be provided. Enjoy your stay. The Colonel owns the Hotel International, of course.’
    ‘But—’
    It was the