To Touch the Clouds : The Frontier Series 5

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To Touch the Clouds : The Frontier Series 5 Page 33

by Peter Watt


  ‘Oh, you mean the assistant German consul,’ George countered quickly, realising that his best course of action was to lessen the known facts. ‘I had almost forgotten about that. He owed me a sum of money from before the declaration of war and I agreed to meet with him and receive back what he owed in a way that did not appear we had any contact with our current enemy. I suspect that you might do the same had you been in my position.’

  Firth was taken aback by Macintosh’s explanation and grudgingly conceded the man was smart. This was not going to be easy. ‘That may be so,’ he replied. ‘But I will still have to pass the report upstairs and let my superiors make a decision on how they want to proceed in the matter.’

  George rose from behind his desk. His frosty tone appeared to have evaporated towards the policeman. ‘I am sorry that I may have appeared somewhat antagonistic towards you, Sergeant Firth, but I have been under a lot of stress lately. I would consider it a favour if what has been observed and mistakenly interpreted could be kept with you and go no further. Possibly I could donate a little towards a police charity.’ George opened a drawer in his desk where a pile of fresh bank notes lay in neat bundles. It had been the money passed to him the day before and he had counted two thousand pounds. Quickly peeling off a wad of three hundred pounds he passed it to the policeman. ‘I am sure that the amount will satisfy any charity you should think of.’

  Firth stared at the wad of notes. It was a substantial amount – more than his pay for a year. ‘I will need more,’ he said quietly.

  George turned to reluctantly retrieve another bundle of notes but was stopped by Firth. ‘The money is sufficient but I want information regarding the Wilkes murder, Mr Macintosh.’ Firth took the wad of bank notes from George, pocketed them and stood back waiting for a response.

  ‘Do I have your assurance that the matter of me meeting with Herr Bosch will be, should we say, lost?’ George countered.

  ‘I can promise you that, Mr Macintosh,’ the policeman answered. ‘But I must also have information on the Wilkes murder if we are to seal the bargain of your donation.’

  ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘For now I want very little – except any information as to the whereabouts of your sister.’

  ‘That, I am afraid, I cannot tell you as I do not know myself,’ George said. ‘All I can tell you is that she is most probably in America, and possibly in the Los Angeles area. My father had a man assigned to track her down and it seems from what I have been told by our Pearl Harbour agency that he was arrested by the police there on an old charge and is currently doing hard labour on the island.’

  ‘If I find out that you are lying to me, Mr Macintosh, be assured all bets are off and the report of your meeting with a suspected enemy agent will be passed up to higher circles,’ Firth said slowly so that his words would sink in. ‘We will let the matter drop for now but I will be keeping a very close eye on you. Since there is nothing else – and you are a busy man – I will leave you. Good day, Mr Macintosh.’

  As George watched the detective leave his office he realised that he had been sweating. At least he had survived the close call of being reported for treasonous activities and the investigating officer seemed more obsessed with bringing someone to justice over the murder of the popular film actor than counterespionage work. George knew that despite the way the war had changed roles for many people Detective Sergeant Jack Firth was at heart a true policeman, and not so much interested in the politics of war. It had been a damned close run thing, George thought, echoing the words of the Duke of Wellington after the battle of Waterloo.

  27

  Arthur Thorncroft was tortured by the dilemma. After a silence of ten weeks the letter from Fenella had arrived on his desk, and with trembling hands he had opened it to read the words from the other side of the Pacific Ocean. Fenella had expressed how well her life was progressing and that she missed him and all her family in Sydney. However, she had reminded him of his oath not to divulge her whereabouts to anyone until she felt that she was ready to return and face her father.

  Arthur placed the letter on his desk and stared at a metal container in the corner of his office. Inside it was the completed film that Fenella and Guy had finished just before his death and Fenella’s flight from Australia. Arthur was a showman and knew just how valuable the film was. It would attract a huge audience intrigued by the mysterious circumstances surrounding the leading man’s death and the disappearance of his leading lady. Sex and violence were a powerful combination and although such things were not spoken of openly in polite society the film was guaranteed to draw in the crowds. But both Patrick and George had concurred that the film should not be released until Fenella was located and the matter of Wilkes’ death settled – one way or another.

  Arthur sighed in his frustration at the ban on its release. He was a man who believed that the show must go on but was also dependent on the Macintosh family for finance. His studio was temporarily closed and most of his young male staff had left to enlist for military service while the rest sought employment with rival film companies. But each day Arthur would journey to his empty studio and go through the routine of administering what was now the ghost of a thriving film production enterprise. As it was, the Australian market was being flooded with popular American movies, highlighting the talents of their own stars, and the Australian product was under threat.

  One matter in Fenella’s letter particularly disturbed Arthur. She had asked about Randolph Gates, and requested that Arthur pass on to him the message that he was constantly in her thoughts. It was strange, Arthur mused, that Fenella had not made contact with Randolph who he trusted was astute enough to be able to track her down with the information he had provided. As it was, from what he had been able to glean from Patrick and George, no one had heard from Randolph in a long time. George had even implied that the American had disappeared with a good amount of the money set aside to find Fenella. Arthur had trouble believing that Randolph would do such a thing as he was an honourable man and very much in love with Fenella.

  Arthur pulled a page from a writing pad and scribbled a message addressed to the Macintosh agency in Pearl Harbour. Maybe they could throw some light on the whereabouts of Randolph Gates. He would telegraph Pearl Harbour and inquire as to what they may know of his whereabouts.

  The afternoon for George’s afternoon tea party was perfect – a sunny, unseasonal balmy day. The manicured gardens were filled with marquees manned by white- jacketed stewards hired for the big event. Ladies were wearing their finest fashions for the up-and-coming spring season in Sydney and the gentlemen had donned formal suits. The guests mingled on the lawns and under the canopies of the marquees for the grand occasion. George had ensured that he be surrounded by the city’s most influential voices in politics and society, without any concern for the extravagant cost of the party.

  Patrick attended wearing his colourful dress uniform as given his current duties he was rarely out of it. He was accompanied by Colonel John Hughes, also in uniform, and Gladys Hughes in her best dress. George greeted them and gestured to a waiter hovering nearby to supply his guests with a flute of champagne.

  ‘This must be the first time that I have ever seen you looking just a little flustered,’ Patrick said to his eldest son, taking a sip of the excellent imported French wine.

  ‘It is not every day that one announces the fact that one is to be married,’ George replied.

  For a moment Patrick saw the son that he wished he had always known – a young man who was facing the huge responsibility of marriage and the probable birth of children.

  ‘I only wish that your brother and sister could be here,’ Patrick sighed. ‘I think that they would approve.’

  George did not respond. ‘Father, Colonel and Mrs Hughes, I must excuse myself,’ he replied. ‘I see that Sir Keith, Lady Gyles and Louise have arrived.’

  George made his way through the guests and went to his fiancée and her parents.

&nbs
p; Gladys Hughes immediately waved to a friend from her bridge club and excused herself from the company of the two old soldier comrades, leaving them alone to discuss military matters as she knew they would.

  ‘I am sorry to say that we have heard nothing of Alex and Matthew,’ John Hughes said quietly. ‘But I can get you up-to-date information on the progress of the AN and MEF,’ he said, glancing around to ensure that their conversation would not be overheard. ‘They have been tasked to capture the radio stations at Yap, Nauru and Rabaul. The New Zealanders are going after Samoa. Our navy friends have taken out all stops and we have the full support of our best surface ships to escort the invasion force north. The AN and MEF are currently laid up in Port Moresby. It will only be a matter of time, maybe a week, and they will be in Rabaul’s harbour. When that happens, I am sure we will get the boys back safe and well.’

  ‘I pray that you are right,’ Patrick replied. ‘Life is very lonely without my children.’

  ‘Well, you have the consolation of knowing George will probably continue the Macintosh dynasty with that fine young woman,’ Hughes said, nodding in the direction of George now in conversation with Sir Keith Gyles, who was standing proudly by his daughter and wife.

  ‘Yes,’ Patrick said without much enthusiasm. ‘All going well he might make me a grandfather.’

  Even as the two soldiers stood aside from the guests at George’s afternoon tea party, Giselle Schumann and her mother arrived. Patrick noticed the two women and broke off his conversation with Hughes. ‘I’m sorry, old chap,’ he said. ‘But I have to welcome a couple of guests that I have personally invited.’

  John Hughes looked across at the two women who had attracted his colleague’s attention. They were standing just a little awkwardly among the guests. ‘I say, old man, a couple of true beauties. Would I be correct in assuming they are mother and daughter?’

  ‘Yes,’ Patrick answered. ‘Mrs Karolina Schumann and her daughter, Giselle.’

  Hughes turned to Patrick. ‘You don’t mean Frau Schumann and Alexander’s young lady?’

  ‘I do,’ Patrick replied. ‘They may be considered enemy aliens but I doubt that two women are a real danger to our national security. Besides, Giselle Schumann was actually born in Sydney and holds British citizenship.’

  ‘I did not intend to upset you,’ John Hughes hurried to say. ‘It’s just that in your position it may not be wise under the current circumstances to be seen consorting with German nationals.’

  ‘I believe that Alex is very much in love with Giselle Schumann,’ Patrick said. ‘I have spoken with her and it seems that she was prepared to escape with him from her father’s plantation, except that things went a bit wrong for her. She is the only real link I have with Alex until he is returned – or we learn that he has been killed by the Germans.’

  John Hughes patted Patrick on the back with a gesture of sympathy for the father agonising over the unknown fate of his youngest son. ‘He will come home to us,’ Hughes said reassuringly. ‘Go to the ladies and be assured that I would also like to make their acquaintance.’

  Patrick nodded, grateful that his friend was prepared to provide a public show of support. When he reached the two women they turned to greet him.

  ‘Thank you for your invitation, Colonel Duffy,’ Karolina said. ‘It is a little warmer than that from some others I recognise here this afternoon. They seem to pretend not to see me, as if I were a ghost in the dark.’

  ‘Don’t worry about those people,’ Patrick said. ‘I am sure that when they see I am more than happy to have you both here on this day they will warm to you again.’

  ‘Louise!’ Giselle suddenly said.

  Patrick turned to see Louise Gyles pushing her way through the guests towards them with a beaming smile.

  ‘Giselle, Mrs Schumann, how wonderful to have you both here today,’ she said, hugging both of them briefly in turn. ‘How did you know . . . how did you arrive in Sydney, oh, I have so many questions . . . Do you remember Harold Quinn . . .’

  The excited prattle between close friends continued and Patrick felt a warmth towards his future daughter-in-law for her uninhibited welcome of his two guests. It was obvious that Karolina Schumann was being gently pushed out of the exchange of gossip between the two young ladies and Patrick guided her across to meet John Hughes and his wife. He sensed that his act had thawed a little of the animosity she obviously held towards him as the father of Alexander. For a short time he left Karolina chatting in the company of Mrs Hughes who did not appear to hold any hostility towards the other woman on account of her nationality. In fact, he actually heard Karolina laugh as she and Mrs Hughes discussed holidays in the Bavarian Alps. Patrick found himself gazing at the mother of Giselle just a little more than he should. She was, after all, an enemy alien but still, Patrick admitted to himself, she was a damned beautiful woman.

  Once the trivialities of gossip had been covered Louise noticed that her old school friend appeared sad.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked Giselle. ‘You appear to be upset. Have I offended you?’

  ‘Are we able to go somewhere private?’ Giselle asked, touching her friend on the wrist.

  ‘I am sure that we can go to George’s sitting room to be alone,’ Louise said, guiding Giselle by the elbow across the lawn away from the guests. When they reached the house they went inside and Louise sat Giselle down with a small glass of sherry from the decanter on the sideboard.

  Giselle sipped gratefully at the liquor. Louise sat down beside her on the settee. ‘What is troubling you?’ she asked gently.

  ‘Oh, I am sorry for being so melancholy on your special day,’ Giselle answered. ‘It is just that you were always my very best friend when we were at school and when I visited Sydney. And now, here you are, about to wed the brother of the man I love.’

  ‘You are in love with Alexander!’ Louise exclaimed. ‘How bully!’ Then she suddenly fell silent, remembering that George’s younger brother had mysteriously disappeared on a voyage to German New Guinea. Neither George nor his father would speak about the disappearance, but Louise had gleaned from bits and pieces George had mentioned that there was a good chance that Alex might not be returning from some kind of secret mission.

  ‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ Louise said, impulsively rubbing Giselle’s arm as one would consoling a child. ‘I have heard that something may have happened to Alex.’

  ‘I was with Alex on our plantation only weeks ago,’ Giselle confided. ‘We had talked of marriage and I was even prepared to defy my parents and elope with him to be married in Sydney. But everything went wrong and he and Mr Matthew Duffy were taken under armed guard to Rabaul. Since then I fear for his safety.’

  ‘I was never told of your feelings for Alex,’ Louise responded. ‘If only the colonel or George had said something I might have been able to have been by your side for support.’

  ‘There was nothing you could do,’ Giselle assured her. ‘Alex is a soldier and I fear that might have put his life in extreme danger.’

  ‘I did not know that Mr Matthew Duffy was with Alex,’ Louise said. ‘The last time I saw him he promised to take me up in his aeroplane to touch the clouds. I must confess that I was very attracted to him but, without a word, he simply disappeared from my life.’

  ‘Matthew is a fine man,’ Giselle said. ‘He and Alex were as close as two men could be when I knew him at our plantation. I hang on to the hope that their friendship will keep them safe as they look after each other.’

  ‘It will,’ Louise agreed. ‘The little that I came to learn about Matthew Duffy impressed me. He is a man of action and has lived through many dangerous situations in his life. Just the man who should be with Alex.’

  Giselle hugged Louise. ‘Oh, I dream that one day you will be my guest at the colonel’s house when Alex and I declare that we will be wed.’

  ‘Louise.’ The two women broke their embrace as George’s voice carried through the house. ‘Louise, it is time to join me as I make our a
nnouncement.’

  ‘I am coming,’ Louise replied, rising from the settee and patting down her dress. She extended her hand to Giselle. ‘I would like you to be beside me when George makes his speech and next time it will be me beside you when Alex makes his.’

  For three days after reaching a low ridge line east of Rabaul Matthew and Alex had little else to do other than attempt to observe the shipping anchored offshore from the German settlement. They were too far away to make notes on troop movements and the time passed slowly. Joshua had left them with enough supplies for four days and returned on the evening of the third with four of his young men. The rough living was taking its toll on the two Australians living under a fierce tropical sun on the monotonous rations of starchy food and poorly cooked pork. Their bodies were covered in weeping sores and they had both lost a considerable amount of weight.

  Joshua remained with the Australians overnight and when the sun rose on the following day Matthew called him over to where Alex lay on his back in a fever, mumbling incoherently as he thrashed about.

  ‘I think he’s going through a bout of malaria,’ Matthew said to the clan chief. ‘We have to make a litter and get him back to the mission station.’

  Joshua did not understand the English Matthew was speaking so Matthew switched to his crude German. Joshua nodded vigorously and shouted orders to his men who used their machetes to cut down saplings and string them together.

  They rolled Alex into the improvised litter and the tough young Tolai men lifted it to their shoulders. It would be an arduous journey back into the hills, one fraught with danger from rival clans to say nothing of the rugged terrain itself. Matthew had seen malaria in many countries before and had from time to time fought the deadly sickness himself. What he saw in the attack on his cousin worried him. Weakened as they were from living on the diet of starchy vegetables, their bodies were prone to infection. He hated to think what they both looked like. The ragged clothes he wore had taken on a distinct looseness since their escape from the gaol in Rabaul.

 

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