There were only the three of them seated in the provost marshal’s office. Carter had insisted upon a private meeting in order to convey MacArthur’s instructions before personally interviewing the men involved in the mutiny.

‘We must therefore do whatever it takes to contain this unfortunate incident.’ Concluding his speech as pompously as he’d started it, Carter glanced from Hank to Samuel and back again, his bland, bespectacled face set in the self-satisfied lines of one who had performed his duty to perfection.

‘I think you’ll find, Colonel,’ Hank said, his measured tone as steely as his gaze, ‘that this is exactly the action we have taken and will continue to take.’

‘Good, good.’ Carter remained unperturbed, nodding approvingly and even giving one of the tight little smiles he was known to share when things were going well. ‘Personally, Major, I’ve no doubt I’m of the same opinion as you,’ he said amiably. He’d heard that Hank Henry was a tough man, the sort who took no prisoners, and in a situation such as this Carter himself believed in the tough approach. He now decided it wouldn’t do any harm to make an off-the-record comment in the interest of cementing their relationship.

‘Oh?’ Hank’s voice was dangerous, but he maintained his self-control. ‘And what particular opinion would that be?’

‘Frankly, I’m all for putting a dozen of these troublemakers before a firing squad myself,’ Carter said with brazen flair. ‘Teach the whole damn lot of them a lesson, focus the rest of the blacks on the job at hand.’

If he expected an answer, he was destined for disappointment, but Hank’s expression clearly said, That’s not my opinion at all, you dumb prick.

Carter, however, was not good at reading expressions. ‘Unfortunately,’ he went on after a pause intended to impress, ‘a firing squad would require an official court martial, which would call far too much attention to the case. We can’t go that way, of course.’

‘Of course we can’t.’

While Hank Henry’s self-control was admirable in the face of the bureaucratic style of officer he abhorred, Samuel’s reaction to Lieutenant Colonel Carter was becoming rapidly despondent. Not only did there appear no interest in establishing any form of reason for the mutiny, this man would be the last to condemn the appointment of an officer like Maxwell to command a Negro battalion. In fact, from this their very first meeting, Samuel already had the vaguest feeling that John Carter might well be as biased and racially prejudiced as Chuck Maxwell himself.

Over the following days, Samuel’s despondency deepened as it became apparent he was right. The ‘investigation’, if it could be termed such, was getting nowhere. For all of their joint efforts, he and Rupert Barrett seemed unable to penetrate the desk-bound mentality of Lieutenant Colonel Carter, whose only interest lay in the fact that drunken Negro troops had turned on their white officers. Any possible motive, any driving reason for such aberrant behaviour appeared immaterial. Indeed, when Rupert Barrett attempted to voice an opinion he was barely listened to at all. Carter was not accustomed to receiving the views of a black man.