by Arnie
Goniff opened one eye and listened harder. It sounded as though the others were asleep. He moved cautiously, lifting one side of his blanket and sliding out with no sound whatsoever. He'd managed to get into bed fully clothed without the others noticing, all he lacked was his boots. But they remained under his bed as the Limey rose and crept towards the door.
A creak made him drop to the ground with all the silence the Sergeant-Major's training had afforded them but it was only Casino. The native New Yorker turned over in bed and sighed, his dreams full of home, family, and his mother's cooking.
Goniff dared to breathe again. He stayed low as it was safer, and reached the door with no more alarms. A quick automatic glance around the darkness told him nothing, but his straining ears heard the easy breathing continue. He turned the door handle slowly, with an amount of patience that would have astonished the Sergeant-Major, then the door slipped open and he was gone.
He shut the door behind him carefully, then rose to his feet. As long as the Warden didn't hear him creeping past his room, he should be safe.
Just to be sure, he paused as he passed the Warden's room and listened, one ear pressed against the keyhole. He jumped as he heard his name mentioned, then relaxed, smiling. The Warden was talking in his sleep! The world weary "Goniff, put it back" was familiar to his ears, and it was with a huge grin on his face that the Limey made his way to the end room. He wondered if the Warden was psychic; after all, they'd always suspected that he had eyes in the back of his head.
Goniff wasn't surprised to see the black out curtains covering the windows in the end room and, not wanting to invite any stray bombers to take a couple of pot shots at the old house, he left the light off as he made his way across the room. A stubbed toe was the price he paid for that, and he hopped on one foot as he cursed quietly. He waited until the throbbing had subsided, then he headed for the window, lifted the curtain and slipped behind it.
The moon was bright - too bright for his comfort, but beggars couldn't be choosers and if he was to pull this off, he had to do it tonight. Tomorrow the opportunity would be lost for another year and although Hitler was madman enough to keep on fighting, the Warden was determined enough to con his way into Berlin and take out Hitler in person if need be. Accordingly, Goniff ignored the moonlight and, after checking that no patrolling soldier was in view, he opened the window cautiously.
After perching himself on the windowsill, he swung his legs out and then grabbed the drain confidently. He'd been up and down this drain often enough to know it would bear his weight easily. His foot automatically searched for the foothold he knew was there, and once he was steady, he slid the window down leaving it open an inch or two. Speed might count on his return.
Another glance around told him he was still safe, and he slid down the drain with panache. Avoiding the gravel drive, he followed the rose beds to the corner of the house then stopped in the gateway. The wide expanse of the courtyard faced him, the stone steps in the far corner.
His eyes gleamed as they found his objective, but his mouth twisted as he regarded the gravel between him and it. Shrugging, he set out. To minimise the noise, he lifted his feet cautiously and slid them into the gravel as he set them down. Each step was painful, but there was barely any noise, and every step took him closer to his objective.
Finally he reached it, and paused to pat its long metal shape with affection. His hand reached for the rope, but the crunch of footsteps on gravel made him freeze. With horror he realised that there were two sets of footsteps headed his way - and they were coming from different directions. A wild glance told him that no one was in sight yet, but it also told him that the stone steps and their shadow of safety were too far to be reached in time. There was only one place to go and Goniff went - straight up the flagpole.
He clung to the top and listened, his heart in his mouth, even as his mind cursed the moon for shining down on him so brightly. If he was lucky, and if the soldiers were half asleep, they might not notice the figure lurking at the top of the flagpole, but he really didn't think he could be that lucky. He shut his eyes and prayed to the patron saint of thieves.
"Nice night for it, isn't it?"
Goniff's shoulders slumped. He guessed St. Nicholas, Santa Claus to most people, wasn't listening tonight. He opened his mouth to reply then stopped as someone else spoke.
"Yeah, it's to be 'oped Jerry doesn't take advantage. It's been weeks since we've 'ad a bit o' peace!"
Goniff's eyes shot open. The bright moonlight was gone. Looking up he could see the vague outline of the moon as she struggled to break through the dark cloud covering her, and he grinned. He guessed St. Nick had been listening after all.
If he had, St. Nicholas obviously had a sense of humour as Goniff clung, getting colder by the minute, to the top of that flagpole as the two soldiers below exchanged pleasantries. Finally, they decided that duty was calling them and they went their separate ways, but only after Goniff had found out far more than he'd ever wanted to know about the first soldier's wife's bunions.
As soon as they were gone Goniff slid down that flagpole and grabbed at the inside of his knees. He suspected he'd have a fine pair of bruises to show for his night's work, and only hoped it was worth it. Now that he was alone the rest of his self-imposed task took a minute or two only, and he was soon making his way back across the treacherous gravel, a precious bundle carefully buttoned up inside his jacket. He couldn't wait to see the Sergeant-Major's face in the morning!
~*~
Morning came all too quickly. As soon as the Sergeant-Major saw the results of Goniff's little jape, he burst into the big room and conducted a thorough search. The convicts, forced out of bed sooner than they liked, groaned as they stood by their beds listening to the soldier rant and rave as he turned the room upside down.
"Where is it, you...you...hooligans?"
Actor, managing in spite of his mussed up hair to look elegant, raised one eyebrow. "Perhaps if we knew what you were looking for, we could tell you?"
The Sergeant-Major shook Actor's pillow enthusiastically in the Italian's direction. "As if you lot would tell me anything! You're as bad as each other!"
"Listen, if we're supposed to have done something...."
"Done something?" The Sergeant-Major advanced upon Casino with frustrated fury on his face. "There isn't a day goes by when you lot don't do something!"
"'E's got us there, Casino," Goniff chipped in, grinning.
Casino shrugged. What could he say? They did have a reputation to uphold.
"Shut up!" the Sergeant-Major commanded. "Go and get washed, the lot of you. You're a disgrace to the army!"
"It's only six o'clock!" Chief's protest was quiet but it was made.
"I don't care. I'm up, you're up. Now go and get washed. And none of that backchat neither!"
The four convicts looked at each other and left the room quietly taking their washbags with them. Sometimes it was better to fight another day.
"'Ang on!" The Sergeant-Major went rushing after them. To their surprise, well, to Actor's, Casino's and Chief's surprise, he insisted on searching their washbags.
Casino frowned as the man rifled through his bag. "Listen, if you're out of toothpaste, all ya gotta do is ask."
The bag was shoved into his arms with a scowl, and the Sergeant-Major returned to the Big Room.
Chief looked around. "What's eating him?"
"Search me," Goniff said with a shrug.
"He already did," Casino quipped.
~*~
The rest of the morning promised to be a long one, but their day was brightened when they saw the flagpole. Instead of the Australian flag which had been waving valiantly in the air to celebrate Australia Day, there was a pair of long johns. Around the bottom of the flagpole were four soldiers, who were obviously having problems undoing the multitude of knots Goniff had made in the rope before he'd departed with his acquired flag.
"Well, whaddya know?" Casino grinned at the flagpole. If he was any judge of things, those were the Sergeant-Major's long johns flapping in the breeze.
"Shut up!" The Sergeant-Major's familiar command sounded. "Get into line. And not a word from any of you!"
He marched them off towards the gateway, his mind turning over with his plans for their day. He was going to put them through a gas-mask drill, shooting practice, and he'd follow that up with several hours of marching. That'd teach 'em to go pinching his long johns. They passed the flagpole on the way, and he choked as each convict gravely saluted the flapping underwear.
For a second he was silent, then a bellow of, "Get a move on!" made them quicken their pace even as the soldiers around the flagpole worked harder to undo those knots.
~*~
The Sergeant-Major never did find out which of the cons was responsible for the theft of the flag, so, naturally, he blamed them all equally, figuring that if they weren't guilty of that, they were guilty of something else.
However, it didn't take long for the other cons to realise that Goniff was the mystery thief. Well, it did stand to reason. What they couldn't understand was why he'd pinched that flag. Naturally, his answer was that his "Mum would love it!" and with that they were content. If they could have seen the letter Goniff included with his precious parcel, which was smuggled out of the Mansion and posted in London on one of their days off, they would have understood it far more:
Dear Mum,
I know it's been a long time since we've heard from Uncle Arthur, what with him travelling around the world so much. But I know you loved getting his letters especially when he talked about Australia, so I thought you'd like this to remind you of him.
I don't know when we'll get to America next, Mum, but I'm thinking of you daily. Please be careful. Selling newspapers is all very well but the other is a bit more risky.
Please give my love to Aunt Maud. I hope her chilblains have cleared up nicely.
Lots of love,
Rodney
~finis~
