The Military Philosophers - Anthony Powell [7]
‘Efficiently, it’s thought – insomuch as he’s allowed to function with a free hand.’
‘Where will Anders fit in, if he comes over here? Will there be friction with the present chap?’
‘Up to now, Anders has not been a figure of anything like comparable political stature to Sikorski. There seems no reason to suppose he wishes to compete with him at that level. Unlike Sikorski – although he actively opposed Pilsudski in ‘twenty-six – Anders never suffered in his career. In fact he was the first colonel to be promoted general after the change of regime.’
‘Anders is a totally different type from Sikorski,’ said Widmerpool. ‘Rather a swashbuckler. A man to be careful of in certain respects. Ran a racing stable. Still, I’m no enemy to a bit of dash. I like it.’
Widmerpool removed his spectacles to emphasize this taste for ardour in living.
‘The Russians kept him in close confinement for two years.’
‘So we are aware.’
‘Sometimes in atrocious conditions.’
‘Yes, yes. Now, let’s get on to lesser people like their Chief of Staff, Kielkiewicz, and the military attaché, Bobrowski …’
Clarification of the personalities of Polish generals continued for about an hour. The various pairs of hands lying on the table formed a pattern of contrasted colours and shapes. Widmerpool’s, small, gnarled, with cracked nails, I remembered from school. Farebrother’s, clasped together, as if devotionally, to match his expression, were long fingered, the joints immensely knobbly, rather notably clean and well looked after, but not manicured like Templer’s. Those of the Foreign Office representative were huge, with great bulbous fingers, almost purple in colour, like lumps of meat that had been chopped in that shape to make into sandwiches or hot-dogs. The soldier and sailor both possessed good useful hands of medium size, very reasonably clean; the airman’s, small again, rather in the manner of Widmerpool’s, nails pared very close, probably with a knife.
‘That seems to be about all we want to know,’ said Widmerpool. ‘Is that agreed? Let us get on to more urgent matters. The extraneous personnel can go back to their own work.’
Farebrother, apparently anxious to get away quickly, rose, said some goodbyes and left. Templer also wanted to be on his way.
‘I was told you wouldn’t need me either after the first session, Kenneth,’ he said. ‘None of the stuff you’re moving on to will concern my people directly and we’ll get copies of the paper. There’s a particular matter back at the office I’d like to liquidate, if I could be excused – and Broadbent will be back tomorrow.’
‘It isn’t usual,’ said Widmerpool.
‘Couldn’t an exception be made?’
After a minute or two of sparring, Widmerpool assented ungraciously. I suggested to Templer we should walk a short way up the street together.
‘All right,’ said Templer indifferently.
This exchange between Templer and myself had the effect of making Widmerpool restive, even irritable. He looked up from the table, round which a further set of papers was being doled out by the chief clerk.
‘Do go away, Nicholas. I have some highly secret matters to deal with on the next agenda. I can’t begin on them with people like you hanging about the room.’
Templer and I retired. On the first landing of the stairs, the sneezing marine was drying his handkerchief on the air-conditioning plant. We reached the street before Templer spoke. He seemed deeply occupied with his own thoughts.
‘What’s working at MEW like?’
‘Just what you’d imagine.’
His manner was so unforthcoming, so far from recognizing we were old friends who had not met for a long time, that I began to regret suggesting we should have a word together after the meeting.
‘Are you often in contact with Sunny Farebrother?’
‘Naturally his people are in touch with the Ministry from time to time, though not as a rule with me personally.’
‘When I saw him at my former Div HQ he rather indicated his new job might have some bearing on your own career.’
‘That was poor security on Sunny’s part. Well, you never know. Perhaps it will. I admit I