Whose Business Is to Die Read Free Page A

Madrid before the war, and with his black hair and tanned complexion readily passed as a native. ‘More than that I do not know. I fear my omniscience is waning!’
    ‘And the major?’ Hanley was an old friend, often a confidant, and no doubt guessed far more than he had ever been told, and yet even so it was difficult for Williams to broach so delicate a subject.
    Hanley grinned, his teeth very white. ‘Major MacAndrews is well as far as I know, although still waiting for the promised brevet promotion to be gazetted.’ He paused for a moment. ‘And I believe it more than likely that his family will accompany him – to Lisbon at least, if not up to the frontier. You know the determination of Mrs MacAndrews.’ Major MacAndrews’ tall American wife was a formidable lady, held in awe and a good deal of affection by those around her, and she followed him to garrisons and on campaign alike. Only one of the couple’s children had survived to reach adulthood, and Williams was the devoted admirer of the girl – a secret shared only by the entire regiment. Jane MacAndrews was small, fiery of hair and character, and in his view the most perfect woman he had ever met. Just when he had dared to hope, it appeared that all must be over. Williams felt despair engulfing him again, something the constant activity of recent days had kept at bay.
    ‘Look, Bills, I really should not worry …’ Hanley began, only to be interrupted. A rotund civilian escorted by four hussars from the King’s German Legion had joined them.
    ‘Mr Williams, it is a pleasure to see you. I trust that you are enjoying your duties with Colonel Colborne?’ Mr Ezekiel Baynes was fat and red faced, the very image of the stout English yeoman beloved of cartoons. Before the war a trader in wines and spirits, he had become a master of spies for Lord Wellington. His voice was gruff, his speech rapid so the words tumbled out one after another like coals poured from a sack. ‘You are looking well, sir, indeed you are. I see that you are quite recovered from your wound. Splendid.’
    ‘Thank you, sir, I am pleased to say that it no longer troubles me.’ Williams had been shot in the hip back in the autumn, which had undoubtedly saved his life since it pitched him over and meant that a second bullet aimed at his head merely grazed him. Left behind by the army, he had spent weeks lost in fever and then even longer recovering, sheltered by a band of guerrilleros , partisan fighters who fought the bitter ‘little war’ against the French. Those months already had a dreamlike quality, and heknew that he had not yet made peace with himself for all that he had seen and done. As with so much else, not least the matter of Miss MacAndrews, there had not been time. It was typical of Baynes to parade his knowledge, while giving the impression that he knew much more than he said. Given the man’s rapid intelligence and his occupation, it was quite possible that he did.
    It seemed that Hanley, Baynes and their escort were also seeking out General Long. ‘A happy chance,’ Baynes declared. ‘We shall be most glad of your company, and perhaps your assistance.’
    Williams was very fond of Hanley, but had serious doubts about his judgement. His friend was a gambler to his core, a man who enjoyed cleverness for its own sake, his thrill growing with the size of the stakes, and so was all too ready to risk the lives of those around him in elaborate schemes to outwit the enemy. Baynes’ bluff and open manner veiled a sharp, ruthless mind, judging the benefit and price of every venture in the war with as calm a manner as he had once run his business. Together the two men were likely to prove dangerous company.
    As they rode along, Williams confessed to his true errand, prompting a benevolent smile from Baynes and a snort of amusement from Hanley.
    ‘Pringle was right,’ his friend said, ‘you have turned pirate!’
    The previous year Hanley, Billy Pringle and Williams had