Ghosts of the Past

by Tony Park

  ‘Lili, listen to me, be careful. You could be at risk. I’m worried someone will try to break into your house, if they haven’t done so already. My aunt’s house has just been burgled tonight, your time, and a German woman, an academic I’ve been in touch with who has been researching Claire Martin was also robbed, here in Africa. Something’s going on. Someone is trying to get hold of the manuscript, any papers about Blake and Claire Martin. You have to take this seriously.’

  ‘OK, OK, Nick. I’m walking home now. I am almost at my house.’

  ‘Lili, if there’s no one home, don’t stay there. Find a friend you can be with and –’

  The line dropped out.

  Lili stopped and looked at her phone, swaying slightly. She’d really had too many shooters. She waited a minute, then tried calling Nick’s number, but it wouldn’t connect.

  Lili thought about what Nick had said, about his aunt and the academic being robbed. Surely it was just a coincidence? This was Australia, she told herself, not the wilds of Africa. As much as she was enjoying reading the manuscript she could not think of anything in it that could be of monetary value to anyone.

  She turned into her street, a row of terrace houses which had nearly all been restored. Her place, which she shared with three other girls and a guy, looked dark from the outside. As she had told Nick, it wasn’t unusual for everyone to be out on a Friday night, even at this late hour.

  She put her key in the lock, opened the door and stood there, listening. The house was dark, but she could hear no one rummaging through drawers or cupboards.

  Lili shook her head, flicked on the light switch and looked around. All in order in the hallway, kitchen and lounge room. She felt better so she took off her heels and walked upstairs.

  Lili paused to look in Emma’s room and saw that it was neat as always; Lili joked that Emma could have been German as well. Jason’s looked like a bomb had hit it, but that was perfectly normal. Lili smiled; if a burglar had been through there no one would ever know.

  Lili opened the door to her bedroom, dropped her heels, and was about to put her hand over her mouth, when someone beat her to it.

  Chapter 26

  Aus, Namibia, the present day

  Anja was at the Klein-Aus Vista Lodge, near the small settlement of Aus, checking emails on the new iPad she had bought in Windhoek when the message from Nick came through. While she had never had anything but fond memories of Namibia’s capital city, she was now quite pleased to be some six hundred kilometres south of it and back in the desert landscape of southern Namibia.

  It might be nothing, she told herself, but the scanned manuscript was all she had to work with right now in terms of primary source research material. She opened the document, quickly worked out where Lili had got up to in her translation, and began to read.

  Komatipoort, South Africa, 1902

  A steam locomotive’s whistle tore through the dawn chatter of birds as they reached the outskirts of Komatipoort. Despite being based at the Steinaecker’s Horse encampment at Sabie Bridge, Blake had travelled to the outpost here on the border a few times so he knew the place fairly well.

  ‘That’s the town, or what passes for it,’ Blake said.

  Claire saw the squat shape of a standard British Army blockhouse made of timber, tin and compacted earth. Somewhere beyond that would be the border post.

  They followed a track that crossed the main railway line, once Blake had scouted ahead on foot and had a good look eastwards and westwards to make sure no train or foot patrol was approaching. He got back on the horse, with Claire behind him.

  ‘Where does the Selati line begin?’ Claire asked.

  Blake looked over his shoulder as they trotted on. ‘That line’s been closed for years; never got off the ground, in fact. The company that built it went bankrupt about eight years ago. Why do you want to know where it is?’

  ‘I’ve a slight problem,’ she said.

  Blake shook his head. ‘I don’t like the sound of that, and don’t care, we’re sneaking across the border, tonight.’

  ‘Well, in point of fact,’ Claire said, ‘I need to make a short detour along the Selati line.’

  ‘Nothing up there but lions and fever,’ he said. ‘No detours.’

  ‘Blake . . .’

  ‘Claire . . .’

  She found it hard to suppress a grin or keep the colour from her cheeks when she thought about the evening just gone. It had been nothing short of thrilling, making love under the stars, and his lovely body had kept her warm through the night.

  Nathaniel had been a bit of a master of technique, but in Blake she encountered just the right mix of strength and tenderness. She could tell he liked women, and knew his way around them, but there was none of the brashness or borderline arrogance of the American. There was a sadness about Blake, brought on by the years of war, no doubt, and it had felt as if he was clinging to her the way a drowning man might to a life preserver. He had held her tight and closed his eyes even tighter when he was inside her, as if he was using her to escape something awful. When he had opened his eyes and looked at her it was like she was suddenly coming home to something. She didn’t mind that feeling a bit.

  Didn’t mind the rest of him, either, truth be told.

  Claire took a deep breath. She would have to trust him, and after last night she felt she could. The fact was that she needed him, not least of all his physical strength. ‘I can guarantee you that it will be worth your while if you come with me up that railway line.’

  ‘I’m more interested in clearing my name and not ending up in front of a firing party than whatever caper you’ve got going.’

  She shook her head. ‘Trust me, you’ll be able to hire the best barristers in the land if you stick with me.’

  ‘Last night . . .’ he said.

  ‘. . . was grand,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘Now don’t be spoiling it with silly words and do as you’re told like a good soldier and take me up that railway line.’

  ‘No.’

  Claire frowned into his back. She needed him to do as she wanted, and the best way to make a man do that was to make him think it was his idea.

  ‘If you could do anything in the world, Blake, go anywhere, what and where would it be?’

  In spite of the abrupt change of subject, he didn’t even need time to ponder. ‘When I lived in Sydney I used to watch the toffs sailing on the harbour. I thought, that’s what I’d do if I could: build a boat and learn to sail. I’d travel the world.’

  ‘There’s a boat up that spur line.’

  He laughed. ‘You’re crazy.’

  ‘No, I’m not. There’s –’

  Blake held up his hand, then reached into the leather bucket on the side of his saddle, drew out the Holland & Holland side-by-side. He opened the breach, took two fat cartridges from the belt and slid them into the barrels. He snapped the rifle closed.

  Claire peered around his broad back and saw a man in British uniform riding hard and fast up the track towards them.

  The man was waving a scrap of white fabric above his head. ‘It’s over, it’s over!’

  Blake reined in his mount and the man slowed as he approached them.

  ‘Put that bloody gun away,’ the man yelled. ‘Your lot have given up.’

  ‘He thinks you’re a Boer, thanks to your civilian clothes,’ Claire said into Blake’s ear.

  Blake nodded. ‘I’m Australian,’ he called.

  The man pulled on his reins as he drew abreast of them. Claire could smell the liquor on the rider’s breath from six feet away.

  ‘Australian? Wait, I know you; Blake, isn’t it?’

  Blake nodded and lowered the hunting rifle.

  ‘I’m Toner, Daniel,’ the man said. ‘I was at Sabie Bridge for a couple of months last year.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Blake said. ‘Wha
t were you saying? It’s over?’

  ‘Yes, Sarge, the war, it’s done. We can all bloody well go home. Old Piet Boer’s finally given up. We got a signal today saying the Afrikaners have signed a peace treaty at Vereeniging. It’s bloody over!’

  Blake exhaled as Claire’s mind raced. There were bound to have been other people close to former president Paul Kruger who would have known the secret location of the republic’s gold, and with hostilities over they might come looking for the treasure. She had to act quickly.

  The man, Toner, raised his eyebrows. ‘What are you doing in civvies, Sarge?’

  ‘Long story,’ Blake said. ‘What are your orders, Dan?’

  ‘Orders? My orders are to find more grog. We’ve been on the stuff since we got the news. Come down to the Big House by the border and join the party, old boy.’

  ‘We may very well do.’

  ‘And the lady’s very welcome,’ Dan said.

  ‘I’m sure,’ Claire said over Blake’s shoulder. ‘Cyril, ought we not to be moving along?’

  Dan burped. ‘Cyril. One thing I remember, ma’am, is no one’s supposed to call him that.’

  ‘On your way, Dan,’ Blake said.

  Toner grinned and nodded and rode on, past them.

  ‘Well now,’ Claire said, ‘that’s a turn-up for the books. After all these years. It makes it even more important for me to take that trip up the Selati line.’

  Blake looked back at her. ‘And why’s that?’

  ‘If it’s the party of the new century that’s going on down at the border,’ Claire said, ‘then tomorrow will be a hangover to match. It’ll make it easier for us to slip through to Portuguese East Africa. But, unless you want to join in the celebrations with a bunch of drunken soldiers, I suggest a scenic detour for now.’

  She hugged him and gave him a squeeze.

  ‘Is this something to do with whatever your mission was?’ he asked.

  ‘There’s a treasure waiting up that spur line, Blake, and it’s ours for the taking. If we don’t move now someone else will get to it.’

  ‘A treasure? I guessed this was about money. You’re a thief?’

  Claire pursed her lips. ‘More like a freebooter, a pirate of old. Think of this as spoils of war.’ She held her hands wide. ‘I want what was promised to me – I was in the middle of doing an arms deal to supply German cannons to the Boers – and now that the war’s over I’m going to be left high and dry and penniless. Look, Blake, my father had to flee Ireland because of the greedy and unfair policies of the British, and my husband killed himself over gambling debts. This is my shot at a half-decent, honest life.’

  ‘You just want what you were owed?’

  She smiled. ‘Perhaps a small commission on top. I’ll make it worth your while as well, cover your expenses as it were. There’ll be enough for your boat.’

  He narrowed his eyes as he looked into hers for a few long moments. ‘Very well.’

  ‘Oh, one more thing, Blake.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘We’re going to need to borrow a cart, a big one, with a couple of strong horses.’

  Now he rolled his eyes at her, but she knew she had him hooked. She rewarded him with a smile and a wink and though he shook his head he couldn’t hold back a laugh. Maybe it was the end of the war that was allowing him to relax and follow her, or maybe he was as drawn to her as she was to him.

  Blake was able to navigate by memory to Steinaecker’s camp in Komatipoort, known as the Big House, and, as Toner had given them reason to expect, there was the sound of much revelry from the building. There wasn’t even a sentry on the gate or the stables, so Blake and Claire helped themselves to a couple of sturdy if ageing carthorses and what looked like a farmer’s covered wagon that had probably been liberated from some Boer homestead. Claire told herself she would find a way to return the horses and wagon, if not to Steinaecker’s forces, then to the rightful owners.

  Claire took the reins of the wagon horses and Blake rode ahead, out of camp and back along the main east-west railway line until they reached the junction of the defunct Selati line.

  They turned off and followed the line on its winding north-westerly course. The tracks were rusted from lack of use and grass and the occasional young tree grew from amid the leadwood sleepers. The gravel road that ran alongside the line, and which had been built to aid construction, was washed away in some places and in others blocked by fallen trees. These obstacles took time to circumvent in the wagon.

  ‘I hope this isn’t a bloody wild-goose chase,’ Blake called back from his saddle.

  ‘You’ll get your goose, as well as your golden egg and your boat if you stick with me, Mister Blake.’

  He smiled and turned his face up to the sun. ‘I like the sound of that much better than “Sergeant”. However, the army’s got long arms and a longer memory. I still need you to help me clear my name, Claire.’

  ‘You help me with my wee errand and it’ll be my pleasure to vouch for you, Blake.’

  Claire drove the wagon with the map next to her. She had done her best to estimate their speed and worked out that the first landmark she was seeking should come into view soon.

  She saw it.

  Ahead the line took a sharp curve to the right – one of the many needless deviations in the line that had earned the conmen who developed the Selati railway their ludicrous payment. On the bend was a prominent koppie, a rocky hill with a large baobab growing out of the crown.

  ‘We need to leave the line here, Blake,’ she called ahead.

  He waited for her to catch up and Claire found the narrower, even rougher track that wound around the koppie, off to the right.

  An elephant trumpeted loudly from somewhere ahead in the bush. Blake raised his right hand and Claire caught up with him then pulled on the reins to stop the horses.

  ‘What is it?’ Claire asked.

  ‘Elephants hate lions. Whenever they see or smell them they trumpet and try to chase them away.’

  ‘Oh my goodness!’

  As if on cue a lioness bounded down the track towards them. Blake’s horse shied, rearing up on its hind legs. Blake held tight and pressed his knees together and told his horse to stay calm.

  ‘They’re fine, Claire,’ Blake said. ‘Stay still on the wagon and they won’t hurt you.’

  Easy for him to say, Claire thought, her heart pounding as a second, third and fourth big cat followed by half-a-dozen small cubs trotted around them, through the bush.

  Claire knew full well there were more dangers ahead, and most likely behind them as well.

  *

  Private Daniel Toner had been heading for a trading store on the outskirts of Komatipoort that served the transport riders and other travellers, catching thirsty men and horses before they rode into the town proper.

  The store was deserted and locked when Dan arrived, but seeing he was under orders to bring back more grog and it was the end of the war, he took the law into his own hands and shot the padlock off the front door. Once inside he helped himself to as much whiskey and gin as he could stuff in his saddlebags, plus a bottle he took for the road.

  He was three sheets to the wind on his way back to Steinaecker’s camp when he came across a pair of British officers and four raggedy-looking Boers. He waved his white flag above his head.

  ‘It’s over!’

  Dan took a swig from his bottle and reined in his horse. He burped. ‘Hello, sir,’ he said to the British captain at the head of the mixed bag of troops.

  ‘Private,’ the officer said.

  ‘War’s over, sir, the Boers have signed a peace –’

  ‘Clearly,’ the captain said, gesturing to the men behind them. ‘These men have surrendered to me.’

  Dan took in the Boers. They were a tough bunch by the look of them, the eldest dressed in a coat made of
leopardskin. It was odd, he thought, that the Boers still carried rifles in their hands and pistols in their belts. Perhaps the captain had taken their ammunition or had allowed them to keep their guns on their word that they accepted the war was over. He, however, had been told to disarm any Boers he met on the road. The word was that some of the so-called ‘bitter-enders’ might not respect the order to lay down their arms.

  ‘You want me to escort these men to our camp, sir?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘No. They’ll be fine with me. I’m looking for two people, Private, an Australian sergeant and a red-headed woman. She’s Irish, but talks like a Yankee.’

  Daniel looked sideways. He didn’t know Blake well, but he was a soldier, from the ranks, and this toff was an officer. His immediate loyalty was to Blake. ‘Can’t say as I recall meeting such a pair, sir.’

  The officer drew a Webley revolver from its holster, thumbed back the hammer and pointed it at Dan between his eyes.

  ‘Bloody hell, sir.’

  ‘You’re lying, Private. Where are they and where were they headed? Across the border?’

  Daniel’s eyes went to the other officer, the younger lieutenant who had trotted up on his horse to the captain’s side.

  ‘I say, Captain Walters, is this entirely necessary? The poor fellow says –’

  The captain swung in his saddle, his gun hand moving with him, and shot the lieutenant in the chest. The young officer toppled from his saddle and landed with a thud in the dust. He was groaning, blood frothing at his lips, when the captain shot him in the head.

  ‘Yes, Roderick, it was necessary.’

  Dan looked around for the quickest escape route, but the Boers raised their rifles and pointed them at him. ‘Drop your weapons, Engelsman,’ the one in leopardskin said.

  Dan freed his Lee Enfield rifle from his saddle and tossed it to the ground.

  ‘Now, Private,’ Captain Walters said, shifting his aim point back to between Dan’s eyes, ‘Australian man and a red-headed woman, if you please. Time is of the essence.’