Val was aware of the wandering eye too, and also of Betty’s smile to the Texan. It was the smile Betty could turn on at any moment of any day; hard, brittle, but winning any man upon whom she turned it. That was the way the girl coped, Val thought. But she couldn’t help wondering how Betty might feel if she knew that right here in this office they were talking about the ‘accident’ that had killed Kasey Davis. Val couldn’t help wondering also, how many others had been killed in that ‘accident’. It must have been something pretty catastrophic, she thought, to warrant the President of the United States sending a congressman all the way out here to investigate.

‘Dig in, Lyndon,’ she said as the door closed behind Betty. She pushed the sandwiches in his direction. ‘They’re all yours.’ She wasn’t hungry herself.

The big Texan was ravenous. Barely a minute later, one of the sandwiches had disappeared and he was halfway through the next when there was another tap at the door.

‘Come in,’ Val called, and Baz appeared.

‘You wanted to see me, boss?’

‘Yeah, Baz, come on in and close the door behind you. This is Lieutenant Commander Johnson,’ she said, introducing Lyndon, who’d risen from his chair, sandwich forgotten. She didn’t bother adding the ‘congressman’ title. After all, it had been Baz who had told her about the new arrival in town. ‘This is Baz Taylor, Commander,’ she said and the two men shook. ‘Take a seat, gentlemen.’

They sat, both busily appraising each other. Baz was unimpressed. So this is the Texan who big-noted himself at the airfield. Well, he’s tall, they were right about that.

Lyndon Johnson was thinking how typical of his type Baz Taylor looked. From the Ronald Colman moustache, to the snappy clothes and glossy shoes, he looked the kind of man the English would call a spiv, a very handsome and very readable spiv.

‘Over to you, Commander,’ Val said.

Lyndon got straight to the point. ‘I’m making enquiries about the supply of liquor to the men of the 96th Battalion, Mr Taylor,’ he said, ‘to Companies A and C, that is, stationed out at Kelso.’

Baz smiled, his cheeky charm lighting up a face that was, to most, truly engaging. ‘Oh, that was me, Commander, most certainly me, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.’ No harm in admitting it either, he thought, and certainly no point in hiding the fact, everyone bloody well knows. ‘Those blokes had been given a really hard time, they deserved —’

‘Yes, yes, I’m aware of all this,’ Lyndon interrupted tersely. ‘I know you supplied the liquor itself, but I’m seeking the identity of your man inside the ranks.’

Baz’s smile faded and his expression became blank, bewildered, as if he were genuinely trying to follow a link that was somehow eluding him. ‘Not sure what you mean, Commander.’