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Torwinski as he waited for
Lieutenant Peploe to return. Even from seventy yards away the flames of the
bowser cast a low orange glow. He pulled out a cigarette and offered one to the
Pole but he had his hands over his eyes. Tanner passed the packet to Sykes and
struck a match. Blood was already seeping through the bandages on Torwinski's
head, Tanner noticed, but the fellow seemed more tormented by grief than by his
physical injuries. There appeared to be no broken bones, though; he'd been
lucky.
    For a short while, Tanner and Sykes stood in silence.
It occurred to Tanner that it had been a mistake to suggest that Torwinski
should see the medical officer. The man needed to be taken somewhere out of
harm's way - a place where his would-be murderers couldn't make a further
attempt on his life. Lieutenant Peploe would be back soon, but he had only
known the officer half a day and was uncertain how much he should say about his
suspicions.
    A thought struck him. He told Sykes to wait with
Torwinski, then clambered back through the fence and hurried towards the still
burning bowser. He could see the charred corpses in the cab and stepped past
the tree so that he could see more clearly their precise position. The flames
were dying down but as Tanner walked around the bowser he felt the heat on his
cheeks and ears. He studied the blackened bodies; it was as he had suspected.
He headed back to the road.
    'Listen, Stan,' said Tanner, as he rejoined Sykes, 'we
don't both need to wait with him, and that second roadblock needs setting up.
Sort it out, will you?'
    'Right away,' Sykes replied. 'But, Sarge, we need to
get him somewhere safe.' He hurried off to fetch some men.
    A few moments later, Tanner heard running footsteps
and Peploe appeared. Rather breathlessly he said, 'The MO and fire-wagons are
on their way, and so are the RAFP. Jesus, I’m exhausted. What about that second
roadblock?'
    'Corporal Sykes is organizing the men now, sir.'
    Peploe looked down at Torwinski. 'How is he?'
    'He should be in hospital, sir.'
    'Really? I thought he'd just cut his head.' He
squatted beside Torwinski. 'Are you hurt anywhere else?'
    'No,' mumbled Torwinski. 'I don't think so. I just
want to get the bastards who did this.' He pushed himself up.
    'Steady, mate,' said Tanner.
    'What are you talking about?' Peploe asked Torwinski.
'Get who?'
    'Sir,' Tanner interrupted, 'can I have a word?'
    Peploe stood up. 'What the bloody hell's going on,
Tanner?'
    'Sir, this man says he and the other two in the truck
were forcibly taken from their hut, marched to the bowser and knocked
unconscious. He says he doesn't know how they got here.'
    'Sounds a bit far-fetched, doesn't it?'
    'Maybe, sir. But if these men did steal the bowser,
what are they doing here by the coast? According to my map, this road leads to
Kingsgate only. It's hardly the place to shift stolen fuel, is it? And how
would they know where to sell it anyway? They've only been here a couple of
weeks.' He took a pace away, then added, 'What bothers me, sir, is that if he's
telling the truth, the Poles've been framed to look like the thieves.'
    Peploe rubbed his hands over his face. 'And if so,
Sergeant, this man's life is presumably still in danger. Christ, what a mess.'
    'Yes, sir.'
    'But in hospital he might be safer?'
    Tanner nodded.
    Peploe sighed. 'And what do you think?'
    'Something makes me believe him, sir.'
    'Who else could have done this?'
    'Any of the troops here.'
    'How, for God's sake?'
    'Must have jumped out of the cab. I had a look at the
wreckage, sir. Neither of the two dead men was driving.'
    Peploe scratched the back of his head, then pulled a
slim hip-flask from his battle-blouse, unscrewed the top and offered it to
Tanner. 'Slug of Scotch, Sergeant?'
    'Not for me, thank you, sir.'
    'Well, don't mind me, Sergeant. I find it helps me to
think straight.' He took a couple of sips, then put the flask back. 'All right,
Tanner. I'm going to stay with this man. You get one of the others