Soldier No More Read Online Free PDF

same in return—nothing, as near as damn it.”
    Clinton favoured him with a tiny nod. “So you’ve got nothing to trade—is that it?”
    Nothing to trade in more ways than one, thought Roche bitterly. Nothing to give dear old Anglophile Philippe Roux, who made up for his embarrassment with marvellous lunches, and nothing to give—or very little to give— to Jean-Paul either.
    “Is that it?” repeated Clinton. “Is that all?”
    The difference between Philippe and Jean-Paul was that Jean-Paul didn’t seem to mind. Indeed, not only was he neither disappointed nor worried by the lack of information, but he was rarely even much interested in what there was. It was as though he knew it all already.
    And then suddenly, as he was about to admit that it was all—and enough to account for the dullness of Paris, if not to satisfy Colonel Clinton that Captain Roche was God’s gift to Intelligence—more of Bill Ballance’s ideas sprang into Roche’s mind. “No, sir.”
    Roche inspected the ideas first from the front and then from the back. They were fully armed and equipped, and their boots and buttons were shining.
    Clinton was waiting.
    “You asked me for my opinion, sir.” Roche used the extra seconds to re-inspect the ideas. It didn’t matter whether they were false or not—in fact, he himself was living proof that they weren’t false, really. But now that he was no longer on Jean-Paul’s side that didn’t matter. “And this is only my opinion, sir—I’m not in a position to substantiate it.” He allowed himself to glance uneasily at Sir Eustace for support.
    “Go on, David,” Sir Eustace encouraged him.
    “Well, sir …” He came back to Clinton. “I think we’re well-advised to restrict the traffic. Because I strongly suspect the Russians have got the French Special Services buttoned up from top to bottom. I think they already know what the French are giving us, for what it’s worth—which isn’t much. And I think most of what we give them goes straight back to Moscow—“ he let himself break off, as though afraid he had gone too far.
    “Yes?” Sir Eustace leaned forward.
    Roche shrugged. “Well… there’s a lot of talk about their reorganising at the moment. But that isn’t because they believe they’ve been penetrated, it’s because the present set-up can’t handle the Algerian war, and holding on to Algeria is their Number One priority at the moment. In fact, if anything, they think they’re secure at the moment—“
    This time the break was genuine, as it occurred to Roche that the next thing Sir Eustace—or more likely Clinton—would ask him was for the source of his suspicions, unsubstantiated or not, and since he could hardly admit he was parrotting Bill Ballance, that put poor old Philippe in the cart, than whom no one was more truly red-white-and-blue and the soul of honour.
    “I rather think there’s someone high up who’s sold that as the official line, and they’re sticking to it, anyway,” he added belatedly.
    “Where did you get this?” asked Clinton.
    “It’s pretty much rumour, sir.” Roche felt himself slipping.
    “But you believe it?” Sir Eustace prodded him. “Obviously—you do, eh?”
    Obviously—he had to. “Yes, sir. I think they’re blown.”
    “Have you talked about it with your contact?”
    There was no escape. He had to have a source, and the source had to be Philippe. And, no matter with what regret, the choice between the careers of Commandant Roux and Captain Roche was no choice at all.
    “In—in a roundabout sort of way, Sir Eustace.” In a very roundabout way, actually. Because it had been British security, not French, that they had been talking roundabout, in effect.
    “And what did he say?”
    Au revoir, Philippe . “He said … he said that people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. Or words to that effect.”
    “What words?”
    Roche rocked on his chair. “He asked me if we knew yet who’d tipped off Guy Burgess