by Peter Watt
‘He is not your real father,’ Erika sneered at her daughter. ‘Your real father is not even a German.’
‘A Jew!’ Ilsa uttered, wide-eyed in her horror.
‘No, an Australian,’ Erika quickly countered. Even she could not let her daughter think such an unspeakable thing. ‘He was an enemy soldier who raped me.’
Ilsa turned on her heel and rushed upstairs to her room in tears. Gerhardt turned to his wife and for a moment she felt the terrible fear return when she saw the murderous expression in his eyes.
‘For that you will burn in hell.’
His tone frightened Erika. She shrunk away from him as he took a step forward. She had badly underestimated his tolerance for her ongoing jibes.
‘Touch me and I can promise you that you will never see Ilsa again,’ she spat defiantly. ‘I have enough power to ensure that.’
Gerhardt hesitated. His reasoning was returning and he stepped back. Time was running out for him and this violent confrontation had brought matters to a head. All he could hope for was that his ruse to lure her brother to Germany had worked. It was Ilsa’s only chance for a normal life away from what his beloved Germany was rapidly spiralling into.
A week passed and Erika remained bitter and aloof towards Gerhardt. And although Gerhardt had explained to his daughter that her mother had lied about her parentage, Ilsa had changed. No longer was she the warm young woman he had grown to love. Now she was withdrawn, but still cordial in all other matters. Furthermore, time was indeed running out in more ways than one, as Gerhardt was to learn when he was taken aside by a fellow worker in the Intelligence department.
‘Be careful, my friend,’ the colleague had warned in a meeting in the corridors. ‘There is some talk of your lack of commitment to the cause.’ The warning had been furtive and whispered. ‘It seems that your wife has been expressing her thoughts to people in high places about your opinions.’
The Intelligence man was also a former soldier who had fought on the Eastern Front against the Russians and then later against the Poles on the frontier after the war. He was a good man at heart but also a pragmatist. However, the goodness of his soul had won out against his fear of being seen to be on the side of a man whose loyalty to Adolf was in question.
The warning left Gerhardt with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. How long did he have? And how did they plan to do away with him? His intimate knowledge of the probable future leader of Germany meant that he knew too much. He knew that Hitler, who was so vehemently anti-communist, had once been an active worker for the communist cause after the war. That it was only through threats from the army that he had been planted as a spy in the very party that he manipulated and now controlled. And there was more that could embarrass the future chancellor.
Yes, he knew far too much. He doubted that the police, so cleverly infiltrated by the Nazi party, would be meticulous in investigating his ‘accidental death’. All he had was Ilsa and the hope that somewhere in a land hardly known to the world a letter had arrived causing enough intrigue to make a former soldier return to his country. If so, he could get Ilsa out and then it did not matter what they did to him.
TWENTY-SEVEN
When Jack and Lukas arrived in Sydney Jack opted to stay in one of the city’s best hotels for the night rather than make their way home to Mosman. Exhausted from the trip, Lukas remained in the room whilst Jack went downstairs to have a nightcap. He knew sleep would not come easily now he was back. The unstable state of his finances weighed heavily on him and his future seemed to be tottering. He ordered a beer and sat in the lounge. It was late, and other than a party of late night revellers dressed in evening wear, he was alone to brood on his circumstances.
‘Jack, old boy!’ one of the group exclaimed. ‘Come and join us for a drink.’
Jack recognised the man as an officer he had served with during the war. He now sold property in the suburbs blossoming around the city, and they had business dealings from time to time. Jack gave a thought to politely declining the invitation but then the offer was renewed by a vaguely familiar voice.
‘Mr Kelly, you must join us.’
‘Mrs Arrowsmith,’ Jack said with a nod of his head.
Caroline rose from a lounge seat where she was surrounded by the three men of her party and walked towards Jack. Time had not changed her sensual looks and her evening gown accentuated her body. Jack’s first reaction was to despise the woman who had taken Erika from him, but he felt an unexpected desire for her at the same time. Her eyes met his and a slight smile curled the corners of her moist red lips. She approached and held out her hand and Jack found himself accepting her invitation. He rose and took her hand as she led him back to her companions.
‘Ah, I see it took Caroline to get the hard working, hard drinking Jack Kelly to join us,’ the former army acquaintance said.
‘G’day, Dave,’ Jack responded before being introduced to his companions.
Dave was slightly younger than Jack and had slick, suave looks. He appeared to emulate a Hollywood movie star with his pencil-thin moustache. He had only joined the battalion in the last months of the war and Jack had not particularly liked him then. But fate had thrown them together in peacetime through property dealings.
Jack could feel Caroline standing very close to him and could smell her expensive perfume. When he moved her hand brushed his.
‘You know, Jack was one of the wildest men in the old battalion,’ Dave said to his friends, both bankers from Melbourne. ‘I think he personally killed more Fritzes with the bayonet than any other officer we had.’ Jack flinched at the reference to his wartime experiences and wished that the drunken former officer had not spotted him. ‘He should have got the Victoria Cross for one action where he singlehandedly took out five Germans and a machine gun post. We thought he had copped it when we found him amongst the dead Fritzes he was covered in so much blood. Oh, I am sorry, Caroline,’ Dave added. ‘Such talk is not for a lady’s ears.’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ she said sweetly. ‘I think it is good to be reminded of what you brave gentlemen did for your country.’
‘Well, Jack and I were the real heroes,’ Dave said drunkenly, throwing his arm around Jack’s shoulder in a comradely fashion.
As Jack eased himself out from under the arm, one of the bankers suggested that it was time to leave. He was obviously unimpressed by the drunken boasting of this man who they were forced to endure for business reasons. They were polite, however, when they shook hands with Jack. Dave stood alone for a moment until Caroline guided him to the entrance and hailed a taxi.
Jack was pleased to have got away so easily and decided it was time to join his son. ‘Mr Kelly, don’t be so quick to leave,’ he heard Caroline say as she returned to the lounge. ‘I was hoping that we could have a drink together before retiring.’ Jack’s confused expression invited an explanation. ‘I am staying here for a couple of days while Quentin is out of town. I presume that you are also a guest?’
‘I am, but I thought you were with Dave and his friends.’
‘Oh, we were just out at a club for the evening. Come to think of it, I don’t think that I have ever seen you on the club scene.’
‘Not much time for socialising,’ Jack replied gruffly. He could smell her heady perfume again and wanted to distance himself.
‘Why don’t you order us a drink and sit down and tell me about your wartime experiences,’ she said in a sweet tone, taking a seat on a lounge chair. ‘I have heard much about you over the last few years. You seem to be a rather remarkable man to have achieved all that you have.’
Jack motioned to a waiter who took their order. ‘I have to say, Mrs Arrowsmith,’ he said, turning back to face Caroline, ‘that I am surprised you would have the presumption to speak to me considering what occurred in the past.’
‘Please call me Caroline,’ she replied. ‘And I hope that I may call you Jack.’
Jack nodded to her request, falling silent as the drinks arri
ved. He paid the waiter and as the man returned to the bar Jack noticed that he and Caroline were the only two patrons remaining in the lounge. He raised his glass of beer in a mock salute. ‘To strange meetings in strange times.’
Caroline frowned. ‘I am not sure what you mean,’ she said as she took a sip of her cocktail. ‘But it was interesting.’
‘The meaning is of no relevance to you. Just something in my life.’
‘But you have had a very interesting life from what I have heard,’ Caroline continued, with a frank look that bespoke her genuine interest. ‘In my husband’s circle of friends men such as yourself are rare.’
‘What circle would that be?’ Jack asked quietly.
‘Oh, men who followed their duty to support the war from the home front.’
‘You mean blokes who made fortunes staying home and staying out of uniform. Like your husband.’
Caroline slightly tilted her head to acknowledge his observation. ‘My husband is a very remarkable man whose destiny is to carry on the traditions of a great and noble dynasty. To have volunteered might have put that destiny in danger. Quentin is a man above all that.’
‘A lot of destinies were cut short by the war but that did not stop those men from fighting.’
‘I did not intend to speak about my husband,’ Caroline said. ‘I would like to hear about your experiences.’
‘If you want me to go on like Dave,’ Jack said with a tight smile, ‘then I am afraid you will be disappointed. I put the war behind me the day I got out of uniform. And that seems a lifetime ago now.’
‘In this day and age it is rare to meet a man other cultures might call a true warrior.’ Caroline leaned forward. ‘It is important that I know something about you for reasons only I know. I trust you will not ask me what they are.’
Jack frowned. Her behaviour was odd but he could sense from her demeanour that she was not toying with him. There was an intensity in her eyes that was almost a plea and he found himself feeling less resentful towards her. Perhaps it was his weariness after the sea voyage, but somehow her presence was revitalising. ‘If that is what you want then I will respect your wishes,’ he said.
‘Please tell me about the killing,’ she asked.
Jack stared at her for a brief moment. ‘Not much to tell,’ he replied after a long swig on his beer. ‘Just something we did to stay alive.’
‘What did it feel like to see a man die at the end of your bayonet?’
Jack felt suddenly uncomfortable. He did not want to remember. ‘Both sickening and good at the same time. I am no philosopher to analyse how it felt.’
‘You have answered a question that is very important to me,’ Caroline said.
For a moment Jack thought he saw relief in the expressive eyes that had never left his. ‘I don’t want to talk anymore about the war,’ he said quietly, staring past Caroline’s shoulder.
‘I am sorry if I was so rude to you when we first met,’ Caroline said. ‘I was different then, and much too young and selfish.’
‘Past is past,’ Jack replied. ‘We all have something to regret at one time or another.’
‘What do you regret, Jack?’ Caroline asked softly.
‘Maybe you can answer that question,’ he replied. ‘You took her from me.’
‘Erika was a lovely young thing but I do not think you know who she really was.’
‘You do?’ he countered.
‘I think so,’ Caroline sighed. ‘She was just like me, with a need to have all she desired.’ Jack laughed softly and shook his head. ‘You may have a reputation with men as a born leader, courageous and strong, but you know very little about the way a woman thinks, Jack Kelly. We have had to be much smarter than men to survive in this world.’
‘I am sorry if I insulted you,’ he apologised. ‘But you may be right. I am afraid my whole world has been with men.’
Caroline’s smile was warm and gentle and Jack found that he was actually getting to like the wife of a sworn enemy. It was a strange feeling, even unnatural.
‘Would you do me the honour of escorting me to my room?’ Caroline suddenly asked.
‘If that is what you would like,’ he replied. ‘It’s about time I hit the hay.’
Jack followed Caroline to the lift. When they arrived at her door Caroline found her key and stepped inside.
‘Well, goodnight,’ Jack said.
He was about to turn and walk away when Caroline suddenly threw her arms around him, drawing him into a deep passionate kiss. Stunned and resistant at first, the sweetness of her mouth and the probing of her tongue soon melted any reluctance that he may have had. Under all circumstances he had avoided liaisons with married women. It was a matter of honour to him, reinforced by bitter memories of men he knew at the front whose wives had been unfaithful to them. But this was somehow different.
Caroline drew him into the room and he did not resist. In the dark she pulled him down onto the bed. He could feel her breasts pressing against his naked chest. Nothing mattered for the moment other than being inside her. Caroline moaned in her pleasure and he felt her nails rake his back. She was like a beautiful sleek cat, their lovemaking little more than her being serviced.
Jack did not know how right he was in this impression; he was indeed providing a service for her, for Caroline needed to provide an heir to the Arrowsmith dynasty, a child to inherit the companies. She had once come close to providing an heir after learning of Quentin’s inability to father children. She had found a suitable young man but that pregnancy had ended in a miscarriage. For years afterwards she had shied away from repeating the tragic experience. But her child bearing time was now running out. She would try one more time and this night the handsome property man had been her unwitting target, hence her decision to book into the hotel. The unexpected appearance of Jack Kelly had changed everything. She had long been fascinated by the man who had made Erika pregnant, particularly with his meteoric rise to fame in Sydney. Instinctively she knew that Jack Kelly could father a child with all the traits desired in an heir to her husband’s companies.
Caroline sensed Jack’s warmth flood her womb and sighed with pleasure. Oh, how strangely this night had turned out, she thought and lay back with a contented smile that Jack could not see. ‘Just stay where you are,’ she whispered, as he was about to release his weight from her. ‘I like feeling you inside me.’
Moments later Caroline gently pushed him off and they lay side by side until the exhaustion of his voyage sent Jack into a deep sleep. When he woke in the morning she was gone, with nothing left in the room to suggest that she had even been there. Jack wondered if he had been dreaming. He dressed and made his way back to the room he had intended to share with his son. Lukas was up and dressed.
‘Where were you last night?’ he asked with a grin.
‘None of your bloody business,’ his father growled. ‘But it wasn’t here.’
Back at his office that day Jack knew from the stricken expression on his faithful, hard working secretary’s face that the worst of his fears had occurred. Doris was a widow from the war and a woman who Jack trusted to run all his enterprises. For the five years she had been in his employ he had been able to spend less time in the office and more time improving his serve on the tennis court.
‘Mr Kelly,’ she said as she rose from behind her desk and stumbled towards him. ‘I have been trying to contact you for the last two days. I have terrible news . . .’ She burst into tears and Jack handed a clean handkerchief to her. She blew her nose and shook her head in her sorrow.
‘It’s all fallen through,’ he said flatly as she blew her nose. ‘Kind of felt something was wrong.’
‘The banks have telephoned every day. I told them that you were away in Papua. I didn’t know what to do,’ she wailed.
‘That’s okay, Doris,’ Jack said kindly as she clung to him. ‘I was half expecting the worst.’
‘Is it true that the Hindenburg mine is not paying?’ she asked as she composed h
erself. ‘They said that they had news the mine was not producing.’
‘I’m afraid the news is correct but I don’t know how in hell anyone back here could have known,’ Jack growled. ‘I doubt that Dougal would have broken his word to me.’
‘What are you going to do? What are we going to do?’ Doris asked.
She had two children in their teens and had hoped her job might provide them with an education and a better life. Jobs were hard to come by during the terrible economic recession that had descended on the industrial nations of the world. Homeless families roamed the country in search of work or handouts and she imagined how that she would be joining their ranks. Jack’s nightmare was also hers.
‘I will talk to the banks and see if they will extend a bit of credit until the contract goes through with the subdevelopment.’
Doris gasped and flung her hands to her face. ‘You haven’t heard!’
‘Heard what, Doris? I just walked in.’
‘The Arrowsmith companies made a last minute bid and went over you to get the contract.’
‘God almighty!’ Jack felt his stomach churn. He had put all his reserve of cash into the deal going through. A quick sale with another developer was meant to finance his cash short companies, including the mine, until they could ease out of the crisis. But the large sum of cash he had invested was on a high interest loan from the banks. Jack knew it was now lost to the dubious political fund of the local council that controlled the bid. It had been to all intents and purposes a bribe, one not honoured by unscrupulous men. Jack knew that he was in real trouble. ‘No, I didn’t know,’ he said, sitting down to recover his balance. It had been as easy as that to lose a fortune he had risked his life to obtain. And now it was all gone. Every penny plus a few more if the banks wanted their pecuniary interest.
Jack excused himself after giving Doris the rest of the day off on full pay. If nothing else he would ensure that she received every penny due to her and a bonus. With the office unstaffed it would make it harder for the creditors to find him and he needed just one afternoon to get rolling drunk before a ferry took him across the harbour to his home. After that he did not know what he would do.