· · ·
There was no regret in Pim’s face. Only endless unassuaged anger. “I’m sorry, Laura,” she said. “I’m sorry you had to see. But I thought you wouldn’t mind. You hate him too. For Brandhoek, for what happened on the Ridge…”
“Wouldn’t mind?”she whispered. “Pim, he wasn’t—they’re goingto arrestallof us. What in God’s name possessed you—” She looked from Pim’s still face to Young’s. “Tell me what happened, Pim.”
“Jimmy ran away,” said Pim. Her eyes pleaded for understanding, for benediction. “After Passchendaele. After the horrible battle on the Ridge. Jimmy survived, but then he ran. They caught him. At Le Havre. He was trying to get on a ship. Trying to get back to m— Anyway, they caught him. Took him back for his court-martial. He was convicted. Sent to—the firing squad. At dawn. In Poperinghe, behind the mairie. Faland—Faland showed me where. The courtyard, the post. The cell they kept him in. The night of the riot, he showed me. He told me. He knows so many things, Faland.”
“I’m so sorry, Pim,” Laura said. Icy sweat poured down her ribs. She groped for the right words. “But what did Gage have to do with it?”
“Gage—he was out walking—that morning, when they were leading Jimmy to…” Pim spoke as though she could not get enough air. “Gage saw him. Pure chance. He stopped him. Asked—what he’d done. They said what he had done. And Gage told Jimmy—” Pim’s voice wavered. “That Jimmy had erred and he was dying for it. So that other men wouldn’t. So in dying—the way he was, he was serving the cause of the war after all. He couldn’t even get free by dying.” Her voice broke at last. “And Gage was the last person on earth that Jimmy ever spoke to, at all. The last voice.”
“And he told you all this?” said Laura, realizing. “Gage told you in London, didn’t he? When he called you into the library?”
“Yes,” said Pim. “I think he thought I’d somehow be relieved that Jimmy hadn’t died in vain.” Her voice dripped with bitterness. “I think he meant well.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Laura.
“I didn’t have words. It was such poison. I hated him. Oh, Laura, I’ve never hated anyone before. Not like that. I’ve hated him ever since. The hating was eating me up. He could have saved him, I’m sure of it. Sent him back to me. That night in Faland’s hotel, when I looked in his mirror, I thought I’d see Jimmy. Of course that’s what I wanted most. My boy. But it wasn’t that. Instead, I saw myselfkilling Gage, and stamping on his bones.” Pim’s thin shoulders heaved.“How dare he take my son.”
Laura shuddered. Laura had fought her monster, and Pim had found herself one. It was so much easier to hate a man than a system: vast, inhuman, bloodstained.
Pim continued, “And so—well, there was Young, and I knew he liked me. That gave me the idea. He offered to teach me to ride, and I asked him to teach me to shoot as well, like it was a great joke.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “But it wasn’t.”
When Young spoke, it was the last thing either of them expected. His eyes were wet. “I’ll say the German shot my uncle,” he said. He looked at Winter. “If you’ll say the same.”
“I will,” said Winter, without hesitation.
Young took a step nearer Pim. His eyes were blind with devotion, while Pim’s had been empty with rage. Christ, was anyone sane? “He was—I mean—I’m sorry. I don’t think that killing”—his voice cracked—“killing him gave you anything back. But I can get you away from here.”
“No!” cried Pim. “No—no!” She drew herself up stiff. “I’ll tell the truth. Do you think I want anyone to die for me? I knew what I was doing. I wanted to do it.” She turned with determination to the door.
“No, wait, Pim—” Laura began, but Pim had already slid open the bolt and flung the door wide. Laura expected a mass of angry aides, and military police, to be standing there. But there was only Faland, leaning against the opposite wall.
“Took you long enough,” he said. He looked at the general, lying in a heap on the floor. And he laughed.
“Penelope?” Young echoed, staring with astonishment at the fair-haired stranger, the empty corridor. “Who is this?”
Pim lifted her chin, faced Faland squarely. “You didn’t think I would.”
“On the contrary, I knew you would,” he said. “I don’t underestimate people, as a rule. With occasional exceptions.” He shot Laura a glance. “And now? Going to own up to it? Confess, and die along with the spy here?”
“Do I have a choice?” said Pim.
“Oh, yes,” said Faland. “That boy there wants to rescue you.”
Their eyes locked. “And you?” whispered Pim.
“I want to ruin you,” said Faland. “Which shall it be?” Noise echoed in the corridor, shouting, footsteps coming closer.
Laura said, “Pim, for God’s sake, he had Freddie. Freddie was a—a husk when I saw him. Don’t—whatever you’re thinking. Don’t.”
Pim was still looking at Faland. “If I go with you,” she said, “will you get them away?”
Faland said equably, “I suppose I could. I’ll even take a leaf out of Iven’s book.”
Laura didn’t know what he meant, but it soon became clear. Faland knelt beside the dead man, rifled his pockets. Pulled out a book of matches. With deft fingers, he got some priming out of the gun. Struck a match. It caught with surprising speed. Smoke billowed through the room. Laura’s eyes stung.
There was no time to find a handcuff key. Laura had to set her jaw and dislocate Winter’s thumb so he could pull his hand free. He submitted to this without a sound. Then they went up an empty staircase, coughing. The silence in the building was eerie. She didn’t see Faland anymore. She didn’t see Pim. She felt hollow with shocked betrayal as they emerged into a spring night that roared with moving cars and moving men, shook her head as though she’d crawled out of a dream.
