Scotch Mist by Elizabeth Darrell Page A

space ad infinitum.’
    The corporal who brought the men to the company offices was surely efficient enough to meet Freeman’s high standards, for they arrived only five minutes after Max had drunk his coffee. It had been accompanied by two chocolate digestive biscuits. Freeman pulling out all the stops?
    â€˜Corporal Furness, sir,’ anounced the lean NCO with a long face that reminded Max of Collie dogs. He had appeared in the doorway and saluted with a flourish. ‘Privates Mooney, Rule, Blair and Casey are without, sir.’
    Resisting the urge to ask ‘without what?’, Max nodded. ‘Thank you. Send the first one in and tell the others to follow one at a time. You needn’t wait.’
    â€˜Sir!’ Another tight salute, a smart swivel on his heels, then a parade-ground command for Mooney to ‘See the officer.’
    One glance at Dennis Mooney told Max all he needed to know. Stuart Freeman had been giving him a hard time because he needed it. A man who had joined the Army because he could not think of anything else to do, Max judged. No real enthusiasm for the job, no realization of a boyhood dream. It had been the easy way out of unemployment. Signing on had given him somewhere to live, ready companionship, three solid meals a day, opportunities for free participation in sports and other leisure activities that required expensive equipment, a guaranteed wage, the chance to learn a trade, and a uniform to be proud of. Except that he was not, that much was evident. Max guessed the other three would be the same. An unlikely crew for subversion. It would require too much effort.
    He went straight in with, ‘You and your mates made a straw dummy that was meant to represent Second Lieutenant Freeman, and then persuaded Corporal Naish to attach it to the bonfire last night. Why was that?’
    Mooney’s lips twitched. ‘It was a joke, sir.’
    â€˜I see. Did you tell Mr Freeman so that he could appreciate the laugh of having a parody of himself burned in public?’
    â€˜It was just some straw put together like a scarecrow. I mean, it didn’t look nothing like him.’
    â€˜Then what was the point?’
    â€˜Um . . . it was a joke, sir.’
    â€˜So you keep saying. How many people laughed?’ Mooney was by now so far out of his depth he gave no reply. ‘Just you, Rule, Casey and Blair. Corporal Naish told me last night that he was not altogether happy about doing as you asked. What did you stuff the effigy with?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Something wrong with your hearing, Mooney? Or your comprehension?’
    Mooney shuffled his feet uncomfortably. ‘I don’t know why we’ve been called in about this. It was just a . . .’
    â€˜Joke. Your sense of humour is around the level of a junior schoolboy. One of limited intelligence. If you haven’t already heard I’ll tell you that a woman who was injured when the bonfire blew apart died this morning. Also, the Deputy Garrison Commander’s son has severe head and facial burns as a result of that explosion. I ask you again, what did you put inside the straw bundle to make it resemble a scarecrow?’
    The coarse face with fleshy lips had paled. ‘Christ, we didn’t have nothing to do with that ! Who says we did? Corp Naish? He’s a bloody liar. You can’t hang that on us. We didn’t have no explosives.’ He wiped a hand across his wet mouth in his agitation. ‘When they said SIB wanted us we didn’t have no idea why. Christ!’ he swore again. ‘No, sir, no way can you have us up for that. That’s . . . that’s murder.’
    â€˜Involuntary manslaughter. You still haven’t answered my question.’
    â€˜What question?’ He was so worked up he had lost even the minimal concentration he had had at the start.
    â€˜What was inside the dummy?’
    â€˜Just rags, sir. Oily rags we use around the trucks