by Peter Watt
James had almost given up hope of getting Julianna to agree to taking their relationship further than a shared coffee. She had remained aloof from his advances, and the alcohol he had consumed the evening before had fed his despair until the young lady now in his bed had latched on to him some time in the early hours.
The telephone rang beside his bed, and James reached over the sleeping woman to answer it.
‘James, the car is waiting for you out the front of the hotel,’ said Guy Praine. ‘You have an appointment at a munitions factory to speak to the workers.’
James groaned and the girl next to him stirred from her sleep. ‘Give me fifteen minutes,’ he said to Guy. ‘Just need to shower and dress.’
James placed the phone back on the receiver and turned to the girl. She was very pretty, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He could not remember her name.
‘I have some bad news,’ he said as she sat up, the sheet barely covering her breasts. ‘I have an appointment in a short time.’
‘Do you have to go?’ the girl said, pouting her disappointment.
‘Yeah, the war needs me,’ he grinned as he slid from the bed and walked into the bathroom where he reached for his razor and shaving soap. The girl followed him and he could see the outline of her curvaceous body in the mirror.
‘Will I see you tonight?’ she asked, wrapping her arms around his chest. ‘You promised that I would get the chance to meet that new director at RKO.’
James did not remember the promise. ‘Give me a number and I will call you,’ he lied. The girl returned to the bedroom and dressed in her sleek evening dress that enhanced her figure to the fullest, whilst James quickly donned his best dress uniform displaying his medals for bravery. When James was ready to leave the girl took his arm and they walked out to the elevator. The operator cast admiring glances at James’s escort as they rode down to the foyer.
The lift door opened and James and the young lady stepped out together. Directly in front of them was Guy Praine, and beside him was Julianna, who immediately turned on her heel and walked towards the hotel entrance.
‘I think you are in a spot of trouble, James,’ Guy said, looking the young woman up and down. ‘Julianna said on the way over that she was planning to cook you a real home-style meal tonight.’
James knew the chances of that happening now were about as likely as him getting an immediate transfer back to the Pacific.
*
It was a bleak place and Sean Duffy felt a certain sympathy for the men incarcerated behind the great walls of Long Bay Gaol. He waited in a small, dank room with a table and two chairs. Sean had placed a packet of cigarettes on the table for his client, and after a short while Tony was escorted into the room by two burly prison guards.
Tony sat down and took a cigarette from the packet, then Sean leaned forward to light it.
‘I don’t normally smoke,’ Tony said, sucking in the nicotine. ‘But before I came here there were a lot of things I did not do.’
‘How have they been treating you?’ Sean asked, glancing back to ensure that the guards had closed the door behind them and he could not be overheard.
‘Well enough,’ Tony replied. ‘But I don’t look forward to spending the rest of my life here.’
‘If you admit why you attempted to execute Lord Ulverstone, I am sure your government will corroborate your story.’
Tony looked at Sean as if he were a schoolboy. ‘I don’t know how you Aussies do things, but I can assure you that Uncle Sam is not going to support any story I have to tell about a British traitor. I knew from the beginning that if I failed I would be thrown to the wolves.’
‘If we at least declare your true identity to the court, that would cause questions to be raised, even if you refuse to say anything else. It will shake the tree, and who knows what might fall out.’
‘I am sorry, Major Duffy, but I stand as Peter Campbell and take my chances,’ Tony said, shaking his head.
‘You don’t leave me much for your defence,’ Sean sighed. ‘I might try an insanity defence.’
‘No defence would be better,’ Tony said grimly.
‘Is that what Jessica would want you to do?’ Sean countered and could see that he had hit a nerve.
‘Her name is not to come up at any time,’ Tony said with some force. ‘It is bad enough that she contacted you, but the people I work for would make sure she disappeared if they thought she was supporting me. No, I want to let things proceed as they are.’
‘You leave me with very little for your barrister,’ Sean said. ‘If nothing else, is there anything I can do for you in here?’
‘I am pretty right, thanks,’ Tony said and Sean rose from his chair. He reached out and shook Tony’s hand.
‘Good luck, old chap,’ he said and went to the door to indicate to the guards that his interview with his client was over.
The two guards entered the room once Sean had left and Tony suddenly started to feel uneasy.
‘Get up, prisoner,’ one of the guards said, an Englishman with a coarse face. Tony rose to his feet only to feel a club smash him to the concrete floor. ‘What? Having trouble standing up?’ he hissed as Tony lay curled up with his hands covering his head. ‘Not so tough now are you,’ he said, hauling Tony to his feet.
Tony could feel the pain ricocheting around his head from the vicious blow. ‘Try to kill one of ’is majesty’s finest. You colonials never learn. Maybe you won’t be makin’ it to court.’
His uneasiness grew as he saw that the second guard was just looking on, clearly without any intention of intervening. Something had changed in the atmosphere of the prison in the last few days, and Tony knew danger when it surrounded him. He felt like a dead man walking.
*
Sarah had tried to convince herself that David Macintosh meant nothing to her, but that was not working. She did not know why, but the idea of possessing him was all consuming. She had to have him.
Sarah had heard that David and Allison were often seen at Romanos nightclub, and she knew through her sources that David was on leave this weekend. No doubt he would be at Romanos tonight, and Sarah asked one of the Macintosh staff to escort her there. Ryan was a good-looking young man who fancied himself and he jumped at the invitation, as Sarah had known he would – especially given she was covering the cost.
That evening they were ushered to a table just as the band struck up a popular romantic tune, ‘Dearly Beloved’, originally sung by Dinah Shore. The young woman covering the song was doing a grand job of imitating the American singer.
Sarah had her chair pulled out for her by a well-dressed waiter and Ryan sat down opposite her.
‘Do you come here often?’ he asked awkwardly and Sarah ignored the naive question. Ryan was only a year older than Sarah but unworldly. However, he looked good on her arm, and that was all that mattered for the evening.
Ryan ordered drinks and Sarah looked about expectantly. She was not disappointed when a few minutes later she saw David and Allison arrive. They were arm in arm and as David passed his hat to the young lady at the cloakroom he said something to make her laugh. The head waiter met him with a broad smile and it was obvious to Sarah that David had been to the club often enough to establish a rapport with the staff.
As the waiter ushered them past her table, Sarah saw that David had noticed her. She was satisfied to see him look startled.
‘Hello, David, Allison,’ she said with an icy smile when David stepped forward with Allison on his arm. ‘It has been some time since I last saw you. I rather expected you to inform me that you were back in Sydney. After all, we are family.’
‘My apologies,’ David said, still off balance at seeing his cousin. ‘I was planning to catch up before I shipped out again.’
Sarah turned to her old friend. ‘Hello Allison, it is good to see that my dress suits you very well.’
Allison reddened a little, but then she rallied. ‘I must thank you for your generosity, Sarah. I have had plenty of use out of the dresses you lent me.’
Sarah knew exactly what Allison meant, but she did not want to let her anger show. ‘I should introduce my escort for the evening,’ she said sweetly. ‘David, this is Ryan. Ryan, meet David Macintosh.’
Ryan’s eyes widened. David was a soldier of wide renown and his colourful story was legendary around the Macintosh corridors of power; he was, after all, a part owner of the vast family enterprises.
‘Mr . . . Is it Captain or Major Macintosh?’ he said, rising to his feet and extending his hand.
‘Just David,’ David said, shaking the man’s hand. ‘Do you work for the Macintosh business?’ he asked and Ryan nodded. But when the young man turned to Sarah he received a withering look for his admission.
‘So, I presume that you do not come here often,’ David said, putting together the elaborate ambush his cousin had set.
‘No,’ Ryan answered. ‘Sarah invited me to escort her here tonight.’
David looked at Sarah’s face and could see that the guile was there but had been revealed unwittingly by the young man at her table.
‘Well, Sarah, it was good catching up,’ David said. ‘I think our man wants to seat us at a table. I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening. The food here is excellent – as is the music.’
David left Sarah fuming. He and Allison were seated a few tables away, and when the waiter left them Allison leaned forward with a serious expression. ‘I don’t think that your cousin being here was a coincidence,’ she said. ‘Sarah is up to no good.’
‘I would not concern yourself with her presence here tonight,’ David said. ‘Sarah likes to play games, but this is one she is not going to win.’
Allison gazed at David in the dim light and wondered if he was aware that Sarah’s baby was in all probability his son. Sarah had virtually admitted this to her when she had discovered she was pregnant. Allison knew that Sarah could be a dangerous enemy to anyone who stood between her and something she wanted. She strongly suspected that the iciness that had crept into their friendship was because of David. Allison glanced over at Sarah’s table and shuddered. There was something about her friend that worried her.
*
The door to Tony’s darkened cell clanged open and he sat up on his bunk in surprise. It was the middle of the night and there was no reason for a visit from the guards.
‘Get up, prisoner,’ the guard growled, and Tony realised it was the coarse-faced guard who had hit him so brutally after his meeting with Sean. The guard was on his own and this in itself was highly unusual.
‘Step outside your cell,’ the guard said. ‘Time for you to have a shower.’ He shoved Tony in the back with a small hardwood baton.
‘It’s the middle of the night,’ Tony protested, and received a vicious shove in the kidneys from the guard’s baton.
‘Just do what you’re told,’ the guard said, and Tony stepped forward uneasily.
Something was amiss but he was powerless to retaliate. To do so would invite a swarm of guards to assault him. All he could do was go along with the guard’s commands. He walked down to the shower room, which was in total darkness. He knew now that his life was in dire peril and his every sense was sharpened by the threat of danger. He felt a hand shove him through the entrance to the showers and suddenly the room was flooded by light. Tony found himself at the centre of the changing area, and when his eyes adjusted to the bright light he could see three prisoners in a semicircle around him.
‘Nothin’ personal,’ the largest of the men said, and stepped forward to lunge with a short blade that caught Tony just below the rib cage. The searing pain caused Tony to gasp, then he felt another sharp blade penetrate the back of his neck.
He desperately attempted to ward off his attackers, knowing that he would receive no help from the prison guard who had escorted him to the showers. Blood pumped from his carotid artery and he realised that resistance was now futile. The darkness came to him and he slumped to the floor, where his blood ran in a rivulet across the concrete.
Eleven
Sergeant Jessica Duffy passed through the security check at MacArthur’s HQ in Brisbane to enter the top secret office. As soon as she did she sensed a sombre mood amongst her workmates.
‘The colonel wants to see you,’ a captain said, and Jessica went to his office, knocked and was told to enter.
Jessica stepped inside and could see the colonel of her section sitting at his desk, puffing on a cigar.
‘Sergeant Duffy,’ he said, removing the cigar from his mouth. ‘I am not sure if you have heard, but Lieutenant Caccamo was killed in prison last night, down in Sydney.’
For a moment Jessica wondered if she had heard correctly, and as the news began to sink in she found that it was hard to remain on her feet. The colonel saw her swaying and left his desk to pull up a chair for her.
‘I am sorry to have to tell you the news, but it is fairly well-known around here that you were close to the lieutenant.’
Jessica’s mind seemed to be working in slow motion. ‘How did it happen?’ she asked eventually.
‘From what I have been briefed he was killed by unknown person or persons in the prison shower room late at night,’ he said. ‘I am authorising you a forty-eight hour leave pass as from now, so I suggest that you return to your billet and take some time out. You of course realise that you are to remain in Brisbane for the period of your leave.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Jessica answered, rising from her chair and walking out of the office as if in a dream. She was aware of the sympathetic expressions on the faces of those around her, but no one said anything and she felt disconnected and alone.
At her house in Toowong birds were singing in the winter sunshine, but Jessica hardly heard their song as her mind was swirling with thoughts. The only person who could help her now was Sean Duffy. She was acutely aware that she was about to break all the strict rules by defying her commanding officer.
She quickly changed out of her uniform and packed a small suitcase. She called a taxi to take her to the Roma Street railway station, where she purchased a one-way ticket on the next train south. She had broken one order, and in forty-eight hours, when she had not returned to work, she knew she would be listed as absent without leave. Considering her very sensitive posting, her absence would not be treated lightly. She knew that soon enough she would be a wanted person.
*
Sean Duffy stood in the office of the gaol’s governor, his expression dark.
‘How could my client get himself murdered?’ Sean asked, leaning on his walking cane. ‘What is wrong with your security?’
‘I am sorry, Mr Duffy,’ the governor answered. ‘I have initiated an enquiry into the circumstances of his death. That is all I can do.’
Sean knew the governor would protect his staff if they were involved. After all, it hardly mattered if a criminal was killed when so many innocent men were losing their lives on the battlefields around the world.
Back in his own office Sean slumped down at his desk despondently. The death of the young American officer was outright murder, and Sean suspected many of being complicit in his demise. Had the American government decided it was too risky for him to go to trial lest he reveal his real identity and why he had attempted to kill the British aristocrat? The Yanks were the most obvious suspects, but Sean was a canny lawyer and knew that the first rule was not to jump to conclusions.
He got up from behind his desk and went to his filing cabinet, sliding open the big metal drawer to thumb through a list of names of clients. He stopped when he found a name and ascertained that his client was to be released from Long Bay Gaol the following day. Sean would ensure he was there to meet him, to see what the man had heard about the murder from the inside.
*
>
On the other side of the Pacific, Captain James Duffy stood outside a florist shop in the balmy Californian morning examining bouquets of flowers. He settled on a bunch that was a mass of colour, paid and then walked back to his chauffeur-driven car.
‘I think it will take a lot more than flowers,’ Guy said from the back seat. ‘I think you will have to grovel, suffer for a while, and then try again to show that you are not going to leave.’
‘What makes you an expert?’ James said as the driver set the vehicle in motion.
‘I’ve been married three times,’ Guy answered. ‘But I have learned one or two things along the way. The first and most important thing is that women are emotional creatures. You might have to take acting lessons to be able to display true remorse. I think flying combat missions has dulled your emotional expression.’
‘The goddamned woman showed no interest in a relationship with me,’ James said angrily. ‘So I slip up once and she refuses to talk to me.’
‘You have yet to learn, old boy, that women need to be chased – until they catch you. It has been that way since the dawn of time,’ Guy smiled. ‘Trust me, Julianna has always been attracted to you, but she needs you to show your total dedication to her before she gives in.’
‘It is easier flying operations against an enemy whose only aim is to kill you,’ James said, staring out the window at the steady stream of automobiles travelling in the lanes of the highway.
Their ride ended at the gates of the studio lot, where James was to have lunch with the production staff of a film set against the Pacific war. He was supposed to praise them for their artistic efforts in portraying the war for the viewing public, but he knew nothing on the silver screen could ever convey the real horror of the war. The films did not show the blood, pant-pissing fear or reality of what a 20 millimetre explosive bullet did to a man’s body. The actors had not been there, and that made a big difference. James knew that Julianna would be on the set today and he checked to make sure the flowers he had purchased were not damaged as he and Guy strode into the cavernous building where the filming was taking place.