A loud burst of static came through the wireless, and we both jumped. He pulled in an unsteady breath, stood and walked over to the machine. He squatted in front of it, picked up the earphones and began to transcribe the message onto a small pad on the floor.
I was feeling increasingly dizzy as I looked around the room. I needed to find a means of escape. But where? How? The small hallway led to the front door, but I’d have to pass de Groot to get to it. The archway into the internal vestibule was across the room in front of me, and through it was the kitchen. But I knew that if I ran for the front door or the kitchen door, Sam would be on to me in a moment. I looked at the curtains over the French doors. That really was my only possible exit.
Did I fear death? Of course I did. It seemed such a waste to die. I wanted to live. But Sam would kill me anyway if I didn’t act. I had to be as brave as Eric, brave as any of the men who were fighting. I wasn’t brave, though. I made a sound like a sob. Sam didn’t hear. He was concentrating on his message. There was no time to think any more, no time for fear. I jumped up, put my arms in front of my face and ran as fast as I could, straight at the French doors.
Forty-three
The doors did fly open but, as I’d feared, I was caught first by the thick curtains and then by Sam de Groot’s rough hands. I screamed out, ‘Lawrie, help me! Help me!’
‘I’ll kill you,’ Sam said, in a voice that was throbbing with rage. ‘Stupid girl. Stupid.’ He was behind me, one arm holding my arms close to my body, the other around my neck.
A gust of wind blew the curtains around our legs. Sam stepped away from the door and whirled us both around. That gave me some respite, before he tightened his grip on my neck. I brought my shoe down hard on his instep, just as I’d been taught in self-defence at training camp. He jerked and the pressure on my neck eased for a moment, but then the slow, inexorable grip returned. I had one more move to play. I pushed backwards, hard against him, trying to put him off balance and slip out from under his arm. At first it seemed to work, but then he pulled me against his body with a grip as hard as steel. His arm was like a vice around my neck. Black spots crowded my vision.
Then Sam made a gurgling sound and his grip on me loosened. I pulled away and leaned forward, standing with my head bowed and my hands on my knees, drawing in deep gasping breaths. When I heard another gurgling sound I swung around. Sam was lying on the floor, shuddering, and his mouth was awash with blood. I looked up, past him. Lawrie Smith was in the doorway, half hidden by the blackout curtains.
‘What happened?’ My voice was a croak.
‘I’m a light sleeper now. Woke up when I heard a door slam. Then I heard voices in here, only this flat’s supposed to be empty. I was having a fag on the balcony, trying to work out whether to investigate and I heard you cry out. Dropped down and put my head through the curtains and I saw this mongrel trying to throttle you.’
He reached into the breast pocket of his tunic and extracted a packet of cigarettes. He shook one out, put it in his lips and lit it. He took a long drag on the cigarette and his face relaxed a little.
‘What did you do to him?’ My voice was high, quick and rasping.
‘Threw my knife. Got him in the back.’ His eyes came up to meet mine. ‘He’d have killed you, Stella. I had to act quickly.’
‘I know.’ I nodded towards the wireless set. ‘He’s in AIF uniform, but he’s a German spy.’ I dropped to my knees by Sam, and gently turned him onto his left side. The knife was a thin, lethal-looking thing, still embedded in his back, close to where I thought his heart would be.
Sam laughed – or was it a cough? It was a sound, anyway. He pulled in a sharp breath immediately afterwards.
‘Are you in pain?’ I asked him, then looked up at Lawrie. ‘We’d better call for an ambulance. I doubt there’s a working phone in this flat, you’ll have to go back up. And could you telephone Lieutenant Ross and tell him what’s happened? He’s at Windsor 5953.’
Lawrie disappeared.
Sam was moaning. Time seemed to stretch as tightly as my nerves and I jumped at a loud burst of static on the wireless. A transmission came through. I should have tried to record it. Instead, I continued to kneel by Sam, wiping blood from his mouth, as the wind howled ceaselessly outside.
I leaned in towards him. ‘Sam, did you kill Lieutenant Cole? If you did, please confess. They’re blaming Eric.’
In reply he coughed and made that strange little sound again. A laugh or a sob? More blood bubbled on his lips. He’d die, I thought. He’d die and Eric would be gaoled, maybe executed, for a crime he didn’t commit.
Sam seemed to want to say something, and I moved in closer. He tried to speak, but no words came.
Lawrie returned through the curtains, brushing water from his tunic. ‘Ambulance is on its way. So’s Lieutenant Ross.’ He looked at Sam. ‘Should we take the knife out of his back?’
‘I don’t think we should. I think that just makes things worse.’
The sound of a siren in the distance made me look up.
‘It’s the ambulance,’ I said. ‘Could you go outside to direct them?’
Lawrie went outside and Sam again tried to speak. I bent forward, almost brushing his lips with my ear.
‘Cole,’ he said. ‘Dead already – I moved him – away from here.’ He swallowed some blood, coughed and said something in German, or maybe Dutch. Then he said: ‘Girl upstairs. Bad. Feel bad ’bout that. Cole – he hurt her first – thought she was dead. I finished it. Not good.’
‘And then you gave Cole an alibi,’ I said. He nodded slowly, painfully.
Which put him in your pocket, I thought.
‘Cole – already dead,’ he whispered, rapidly losing what little strength he had. ‘Not me.’
The French doors burst open as the ambulance officers came into the room. I was pushed aside as they did what they had to do, put him on a stretcher and took him out of the room.
I kneeled by the wall, exhausted. When Ross found me a few minutes later and pulled me into a hug, I clung to him as if my life depended on it. He held me close, murmuring that it was all right, I was safe, that he loved me.
It was as if I’d been drenched in cold water. Loved me? Then he kissed me, hard, proprietarily, just as he’d done that night after Cole’s attack.
It was the last straw. I was tired and upset. A man had almost died in front of me, I’d barely escaped with my life, and now Nick Ross, who was well aware that I was in love with Eric – his best friend! – had declared his love for me. I pulled away from him, furious, itching to slap him.
‘Oh – go bag your head, Ross,’ I said.
I walked out of the room and went upstairs.
Once I reached my flat, though, I was restless. Exhausted, but fidgety, unwilling to undress and go back to bed, unable to put aside the events of the night. Sam de Groot was a German spy. He’d have killed me. I’d nearly died. He’d said he hadn’t killed Cole. Who killed Cole? Nick Ross had said he loved me. Nick Ross!
An hour later, just before the sky began to lighten into dawn, the doorbell rang. When I opened the door, wondering what I’d say if I found Ross standing there, I was surprised to see Faye, bleary-eyed, yawning and carrying a holdall.
‘God, Stella, I can’t let you out of my sight, can I?’ she said. ‘So, it was Sam de Groot, eh? I knew there was something dodgy about him. Jim thought so, too.’ Her smile fell away when she saw my expression. The holdall was unceremoniously dropped and she pulled me into a fierce hug. ‘Don’t cry, it’s all over now.’
‘So why are you here?’ I asked, after I’d pulled myself together and we were sharing a cup of tea in the kitchen.
‘Lieutenant Ross turned up at my lodgings. Made a terrible fuss until they got me out of bed. Had them all dancing around to his tune.’ There was a degree of satisfaction in her voice. ‘He’s not half bad for an officer. Wants
me to keep you company here all day and to stay over tonight. Said to tell you that he’d clear it with work and he’d keep the police off your back at least until tomorrow.’
I went to bed a little while later, at Faye’s insistence, but I couldn’t sleep. I tossed in the bedclothes, remembering what Ross had said to me and my curt, angry reply. I hoped I’d not hurt him badly, because I was well aware now that his offhand manner, sarcasm and quick temper were merely camouflage. I knew that the real Ross was a sensitive, damaged man, who was intensely loyal to those he cared about.
Nick Ross had said he loved me. I dashed away tears. I wished I could help him deal with his demons, but there was a darkness inside him that repelled me as much as his qualities attracted me. I wasn’t the woman who could deal with that darkness; I hoped he’d find the one who could.
Eric had left his belongings in my bedroom. In his kit were his sketchbooks. I got out of bed and went over to take one out. I leafed through it, letting the beautiful drawings soothe me. Eric’s eye for beauty and his skilled artistry were a delight as I turned every page. I smiled to see them and I felt myself relax. If I was unable to let myself trust Eric then Frank had indeed defeated me. And I would not let that happen.
I gently replaced the sketchbook and went back to bed.
*
Ross arrived after breakfast the following morning as I was on my way to the shower. I decided to let Faye deal with him, but when I came into the lounge room, towelling my wet hair, Faye had disappeared.
‘I sent her off to work,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. My head’s well and truly bagged, and I’m on my best behaviour.’
‘And I’ve slept well and eaten my breakfast,’ I said with a laugh. ‘Nothing worries me at the moment. Thanks so much for sending me Faye. She’s such a tonic.’
I walked across to the balcony to comb my hair in the morning sunshine.
‘Isn’t it a beautiful day?’ I could see a faint shimmer of green on the bare branches opposite in Fawkner Park.
‘This is Melbourne,’ Ross replied. ‘Give it an hour and it’ll be raining.’
I shrugged. Spring was coming. I could feel it.
‘Rob Sinclair telephoned when you were in the shower,’ he said. ‘The police have released Eric. He’s bringing him over here now.’
I smiled, and looked away into Fawkner Park again.
‘I had a meeting with Molloy and Deacon while you were lolling around here yesterday,’ Ross went on. ‘When you go back to Goodwood tomorrow you’ll be returning to your usual duties with Gabriel and Deacon.’
I swung around. ‘What about you?’
‘I’m being transferred to Cranleigh, to work with Rob Sinclair. With your invaluable help I did the job I’d been sent to do at APLO, so I’ll be leaving at the end of the week.’
‘I’m sorry to hear it. I’ll miss working with you.’
He didn’t reply. He was staring at me with an expression that was almost hungry, and a little lost. I felt my face grow hot. We had to talk about it, I thought, and it might as well be now.
‘You think Eric’s right for you?’ Ross was flushed, but his voice was light and ever so slightly condescending. ‘If you’d only let me try, I’d convince you I was a better bet. Better for you than Eric. I meant what I said. It was stupid to say it then, but I meant it.’
I spent a moment combing my hair, wondering what to say, how to convince him that I meant it, too. ‘I like you – I really like you, Nick. I like you very much.’ My voice cracked, so I paused again and glared at him. ‘When I don’t want to smack you, that is.’
He smiled a little at that and I relaxed.
‘I’m not interested in you romantically. I’ve never been interested in you that way. Please understand that. This time, it’s Eric who gets the girl.’
He closed his eyes and grimaced slightly. When he looked at me again his expression was almost frighteningly intense, without any hint of his usual sangfroid. ‘I’m sorry I sounded flippant just now,’ he said. ‘Still trying to protect myself, I suppose. You want the truth?’
My voice was tentative. ‘Nick, I –’
He shook his head. ‘I hate myself for trying to convince you to accept me and not Eric, but I have to try, for both our sakes. Will you hear me?’
Slowly, I nodded. I owed him that.
‘I can offer you so much more than Eric, if you’ll just give me a chance. Of course Perth is a beautiful place and Eric loves the easy-going life he has there, but I find it small, petty and provincial. I couldn’t wait to get out. You’ll be bored and miserable in Perth, believe me.’
‘Nick, I’m not as sophisticated as you think. Yes, life with Frank was very glittering, very social, but I hated it. I’m happy wherever I can paint and actually, Perth sounds like a haven to me.’
‘Havens can easily become prisons.’
‘Only if you go there to hide. I’m going there to be with Eric – once this war is over.’
His breathing had become fast, as if he’d been running. ‘Stella, you’re the only thing in my life that makes any sense. I know you’re attracted to me . . . well, I adore you. I’ve never –’ He rubbed his forehead, in an unconscious gesture of pain. ‘Please, Stella, just give me a chance.’
I had no idea how to reply, because I knew he was right; I was attracted to him. And it was more than simply physical attraction. Together we’d have passion and genuine friendship. It wasn’t enough.
Shaking my head, I mumbled, ‘Nick, I can’t –’
The misery in his eyes was hauntingly real. ‘I’m drowning. I’m back in the river, but I can’t make it to shore this time. Not without you.’
I felt as if I was being torn into pieces, very slowly.
Eventually I said, ‘I’m your friend, Nick. Always. But I can’t be anything more. I love Eric.’
He twisted away from me, hiding his face. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. When he turned back to me he was composed. ‘If you find it hard to forget what happened that night, if you get nightmares, fears . . . if you just want to talk – about anything – come to me. I’ll always try to help you, Stella.’
‘As a psychologist? Or as a friend?’
He looked straight into my eyes. ‘As whatever you want. Always.’
‘As a friend, then.’ I attempted a smile.
A little while later, Eric and Rob Sinclair arrived at the flat. Soon after that, we were all sipping tea and munching Brockhoff’s Morning Coffee biscuits.
Rob Sinclair sat quietly at one end of the couch, looking harmless and a little owl-like. But when he glanced up at me, I saw the flash of ruthless intelligence in his blue eyes. Like Nick Ross, Sinclair would be often underestimated. I suspected that was exactly what he wanted.
Ross reached over to pick up a biscuit, saw me looking at him, and smiled. He’d reverted to his usual insouciant attitude and it was as if our talk on the balcony had never occurred. I firmly believed that Nick Ross and I were better as friends than lovers. I hoped he’d accept that in time.
I looked last at Eric, who was sprawled back in his chair. He seemed entirely at ease, yet I knew that he could turn in an instant into the expert fighter he was, though he was adamant it would not define him. When he turned his head and smiled at me my breath seemed to catch in my chest. I realised then that my breath always would catch when Eric smiled at me.
I turned to Sinclair.
‘Are you allowed to tell us anything?’ I asked.
‘Ask me the question and I’ll let you know,’ he replied.
‘How is Sam de Groot?’
‘He’s dead.’
I gasped. Sam had clearly been very badly injured, but he was dead already?
Sinclair went on. ‘He died ten months ago in Japanese custody.’
I scowled at him. ‘I meant the man we knew as Sam de Groot. Did he s
urvive? What’s his condition?’
Sinclair smiled, and pushed his glasses further up his nose. ‘Next question.’
‘We’ll never know,’ said Ross. ‘It’s as if the man we knew as Sam de Groot never existed. They’ve made up some excuse to cover the fact that he’s left APLO. Forget about him.’
‘What is happening about Cole’s murder?’ I asked.
‘All charges against Eric have been dropped.’
I considered what else I wanted to know, looked at Sinclair and began. ‘Where was the false de Groot before he came to APLO?’
‘Special Operations Australia.’
I gasped. ‘He was in SOA?’
‘Yes. They’re furious at the deception. They’re blaming the Netherlands East Indies Forces Intelligence Service.’
‘Lieutenant Commander Boon won’t be happy.’
‘He’s blaming the Coast Watch Organisation.’
‘Who are they blaming?’
‘Secret Intelligence Australia.’
‘And they’re blaming . . .?’
‘The Americans.’
I laughed. ‘And the buck stops there. Not that it’s amusing in the slightest. Do we know why Cole didn’t work out what was happening with Destro?’
‘Arrogance, wilful blindness,’ said Ross.
‘To give him his due,’ said Sinclair, ‘it seems likely that he never saw the communication from Perth. We’ve been informed that – let’s call him de Groot, shall we?’
‘Let’s,’ murmured Ross. ‘And let’s assume that he’s been intensively interrogated, despite being seriously injured.’
Sinclair went on as if Ross hadn’t spoken. ‘We’ve been informed that de Groot stole the communication from Cole’s desk before he saw it.’
‘Perth never followed it up, though,’ said Ross. ‘There are too many jealously guarded secrets and reputations to be made in the Allied Intelligence Bureau. Hopefully this whole fiasco will be a wake-up call.’
A Time of Secrets Page 36