It was lieutenant Lofting who dominated the meeting. ‘Look here, Marnham. You’ve only just arrived so there’s no reason why you should know the situation. It’s not the Germans or the Russians who are the problem here. It isn’t even the French. It’s the Americans. They don’t know a thing. What’s worse, they won’t learn, they won’t be told. It’s just how they are.’
Leonard Marnham, an employee of the Post Office, had never actually met an American to talk to, but he had studied them in depth at his local Odeon. He smiled without parting his lips and nodded. He reached into his inside coat pocket for his silverplated case. Lofting held up his palm, Indian greeting style, to forestall the offer. Leonard crossed his legs, took out a cigarette and tapped its end several times against the case.
Lofting’s arm shot out across the desk and offered his lighter at full stretch. He resumed as the young civilian lowered his head to the flame. ‘As you can imagine, there are a number of joint projects, pooled resources, know-how, that sort of thing. But do you think the Americans have the first notion of team work? They agree on one thing, and then they go their own way. They go behind our backs, they withhold information, they talk down to us like idiots.’ Lieutenant Lofting straightened the blotter which was the only object on his tin desk. ‘You know, sooner or later HMG will be forced to get tough.’ Leonard went to speak, but Lofting waved him down. ‘Let me give you an example. I’m British liaison for the inter-sector swimming match next month. Now, no one can argue with the fact that we’ve got the best pool here at the Stadium. It’s the obvious place for the venue. The Americans agreed weeks ago. But where do you think it’s going to be held now? Way down in the south, in their sector, in some greasy little puddle. And do you know why?’ Lofting talked on for another ten minutes.
When all the treacheries of the swimming match seemed to have been set out, Leonard said, ‘Major Sheldrake had some equipment for me and some sealed instructions. Do you know anything about that?’
‘I was coming to that,’ the lieutenant said sharply. He paused, and seemed to gather his strength. When he spoke again he could barely suppress a yodel of irritation. ‘You know, the only reason I was sent up here was to wait for you. When Major Sheldrake’s posting came through, I was meant to get everything from him and pass it on. As it happened, and this had nothing to do with me, there was a forty-eight-hour gap between the Major’s departure and my arrival.’
He paused. It sounded like he had prepared this explanation with care. ‘Apparently the Yanks kicked up an almighty fuss, even though the rail shipment was locked in a guarded room, and your sealed envelope was in the safe in the CO’s office. They insisted that someone had to be directly responsible for the stuff at all times. There were phone calls to the CO’s office from the Brigadier which originated with General Staff. There was nothing anyone could do. They came over in a lorry and took the lot, envelope, shipment, the lot. Then I arrived. My new instructions were to wait for you, which I’ve been doing for five days, make sure you are who you say you are and explain the situation, and give you this contact address.’
Lofting took a manila envelope from his pocket and passed it across the table. At the same time Leonard handed over his bona fides. Lofting hesitated. He had one remaining piece of bad news. ‘The thing is this. Now that your stuff, whatever it is, has been signed over to them, you have to be too. You’ve been handed over. For the time being, you’re their responsibility. You take your instructions from them.’
‘That’s all right,’ Leonard said.
‘I’d say it was jolly hard luck.’
His duty done, Lofting stood and shook his hand.