The Military Philosophers - Anthony Powell [13]
‘I’ll drop you,’ said Borrit. ‘If you’re on the way to the Titian.’
Pennistone turned to me again.
‘Where was I?’
‘Q (Ops.).’
‘Ah, yes – the point is there’s only the traditional one man and a boy at Meshed.’
‘That’s the key name?’
‘We shall be hearing a lot about Meshed – and resorts like Yangi-yul and Alma Ata. Some sort of a reception centre will have to be rigged up. There may be quite a party to deal with once they start.’
‘What am I to say to Q (Ops.)?’
‘Just ventilate the question. They may have other ideas to ours.’
‘They’re presumably prepared for this. They were on the distribution.’
‘But will want to be brought up to date from our end – and we’ll need their background stuff to tell the London Poles.’
‘Do you mind if we go, Pennistone?’ said Borrit. ‘Otherwise I’ll be late for my appointment with Van der Voort.’
Pennistone, never to be hurried, stood in deep thought. He was as likely to be reflecting on Cartesianism as on the best way to approach Q (Ops.). Borrit made another move towards the door.
‘What was it? I know – trouble again about Szymanski. You wouldn’t think it possible one man could be such a nuisance. There’s now doubt whether it’s his real name, because a lot of people are called that. MI5 want a word about him. Try and clear it up. Another good deed would be to extract an answer from Blackhead about the supply of straw for stuffing medical establishment palliasses. They’re frantic about it in Scotland.’
‘Blackhead’s not raised objection to that?’
‘He says straw comes under a special restrictive order. He should be alerted about the evacuation too, so that he can think of difficulties.’
Borrit opened the door, allowing a sharp current of air to drive in from the passages. This was done as a challenge. He leant on the handle, looking rather aggrieved. There were some shouts from the others requiring that the door be shut at once. Borrit pointed to Pennistone and myself. He would not venture to leave without Pennistone, but, to humour him, we both made a move towards the corridor.
‘Come as far as the staff entrance,’ said Pennistone. ‘In case I think of other urgent problems.’
We followed Borrit down the back staircase. On the first floor, Intelligence, in its profuse forms, mingled with Staff Duties, a grumpy crowd, most of them, especially the Regulars (‘If they were any good, they wouldn’t be here,’ Pennistone said) and a few Operational sections, on the whole less immediately active ones, the more vital tending to have rooms on the floor above, close to the generals and higher-grade brigadiers. A few civilian hauts fonctionnaires, as Pennistone called them, were also located here, provided with a strip of carpet as they rose in rank; at the highest level – so it was rumoured – even a cupboard containing a chamber pot. The Army Council Room was on this floor, where three or four colonels, Finn among them, had also managed to find accommodation. The great double staircase leading from the marble hall of the main entrance (over which the porter, Vavassor, presided in a blue frock coat with scarlet facings and top hat with gold band) led directly to these, as it were, state apartments. On the ground floor, technical branches and those concerned with supply rubbed shoulders with all sorts and conditions, internal security contacts of a more or less secret sort, Public Relations, typing pools, dispatch-riders, Home Guard.
‘Kielkiewicz has heard of Kafka,’ said Pennistone, as we reached the foot of the stairs.
‘You put them all through their literary paces as a matter of routine?’
‘He laughed yesterday when I used the term Kafka-esque.’
‘Wasn’t that rather esoteric?’
‘It just slipped out.’
Pennistone laughed at the thought. Though absolutely dedicated to his duties with the Poles, he also liked getting as much amusement out of the job as possible.
‘In the course of discussing English sporting prints with Bobrowski,’ he said, ‘a subject he’s rather keen on. It turned out the Empire style in Poland is known as “Duchy of Warsaw”. That’s nice, isn