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sergeant was an outsider, but Peter Marlowe wasn't afraid of outsiders. Not
now.
"Beat it," snapped Peter Marlowe.
"But sir ..."
"I said beat it, goddammit!"
"Yes sir." The sergeant saluted and Peter Marlowe felt very pleased that he
wasn't afraid of outsiders any more. He returned the salute and then wished he
hadn't, for he didn't have his cap on. So he tried to cover his mistake with
"Oh, where the hell's my cap?" and walked back into the hut feeling the fear
of outsiders returning. But he forced it away and swore to himself, by the
Lord my God, I'll never be afraid again. Never.
He found his cap and the concealed can of sardines. He put the can in his
pocket and walked down the stairs of the hut and up the road beside the wire.
The camp was almost deserted now. The last of the English troops were going
today, on the same convoy as his. Going away. Long after all the Aussies had
left, and an age after the Yanks. But that was only to be expected. We're slow
but very sure.
He stopped near the American hut. The canvas flap of the overhang waved
miserably on a wind of the past. Then Peter Marlowe went inside the hut for
the last time.
The hut was not empty. Grey was there, polished and uniformed.
"Come to look a last time at the place of your triumphs?" he asked
venomously.
"That's one way of putting it." Peter Marlowe rolled a cigarette and replaced
the savings in his tobacco box. "And now the war's over. Now we're equal, you
and me."
"That's right." Grey's face was stretched, his eyes snake-like. "I hate your
guts."
"Remember Dino?"
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"What about him?"
"He was your informer, wasn't he?"
"I suppose there's no harm in admitting it now."
"The King knew all about Dino."
"I don't believe you."
"Dino was giving you information on orders. On the King's orders!" Peter
Marlowe laughed.
"You're a bloody liar!"
"Why should I lie?" Peter Marlowe's laugh died abruptly. "The time for
lying's over. Finished. But Dinowas doing it on orders. Remember how you were
always just too late? Always."
Oh my God, thought Grey. Yes, yes, I can see that now.
Peter Marlowe drew on his cigarette. "The King figured that if you didn't get
real information, you'd really try to get an informer. So he gave you one."
Suddenly Grey felt very tired. Very tired. A lot of things were hard to
understand. Many things, strange things. Then he saw Peter Marlowe and the
taunting smile and all his pent-up misery exploded. He slammed across the hut
and kicked the King's bed over and scattered his possessions, then whipped on
Peter Marlowe. "Very clever! But I saw the King cut down to size, and I'll see
it happen to you. And your stinking class!"
"Oh?"
"You can bet your bloody life! I'll fix you somehow, if I have to spend the
rest of my life doing it. I'll beat you at the end. Your luck's going to run
out."
"Luck's got nothing to do with it."
Grey pointed a ringer in Peter Marlowe's face. "You were born lucky. You've
ended Changi lucky. Why, you've even escaped with what precious little soul
you ever had!"
"What're you talking about?" Peter Marlowe shoved the finger away.
"Corruption. Moral corruption. You were saved just in time. A few more months
around the King's evil and you'd have been changed forever. You were beginning
to be a great liar and a cheat like him."
"He wasn't evil and he cheated no one. All he did was adapt to
circumstances."
"The world'd be a sorry place if everyone hid behind that excuse. There's
such a thing as morality."
Peter Marlowe threw his cigarette on the floor and ground it to dust. "Don't
tell me you'd rather be dead with your goddam virtues than alive and know
you've had to compromise a little."
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"A little?" Grey laughed harshly. "You sold out everything. Honor integrity
pride all for a handout from the worst bastard in this stinkhole!"
"When you think about it, the King's sense of honor was pretty high. But
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