Beneath a Rising Sun

by Peter Watt

  He saw Julianna standing near an actor wearing the uniform of a navy fighter pilot.

  ‘Good luck,’ Guy said quietly as he peeled off to find the set manager.

  Feeling just a little awkward, James mustered all his courage and walked over to Julianna, who was deep in conversation with the handsome young actor. She turned to see him approaching.

  ‘James,’ she said frostily, ‘I am surprised to see you here today. I thought you would be back at the hotel enjoying yourself.’

  ‘I will see you later, Julianna,’ said the actor. ‘I hope you will consider what we discussed.’

  James stood awkwardly with the flowers in his hand. ‘I know I screwed up,’ he said when the actor was out of earshot.

  ‘The flowers will not help you,’ Julianna responded. She made as if to walk away, then turned back to him and said, ‘Look, James, you are a very attractive man and I like you a lot, but I lost my brother in the Pacific and I never want to grieve like that again. It might have been different if you were not a marine, flying combat missions, but I suspect that you are one of those men who always wishes to be back on some godforsaken island fighting the Japanese.’

  ‘All the same,’ James said, ‘I think the marine corps will leave me in Hollywood until the war is over. There is little chance of me being killed in combat here.’

  Julianna touched James on the arm. ‘If I could believe that was going to happen I might consider that something more serious could happen between us. I am sorry, James. But I will accept the flowers. They are beautiful.’

  ‘I know what you saw at the hotel, but I was drunk, nothing happened,’ James lied feebly, only to receive a look of contempt from Julianna.

  ‘I hope you never have to swear on your life about that,’ she said, but she did not take her hand from his arm. ‘I guess you will have to prove that I can trust you before we can go any further.’

  James nodded his agreement and Julianna withdrew her hand from his arm.

  ‘I have to go to a meeting,’ she said and turned to walk away, leaving James with the flowers. He watched her leave and felt nothing but confusion.

  ‘I could not help watching you two,’ Guy said, walking over to James. ‘I have a feeling that Julianna had the last word.’

  ‘Goddamned women,’ James said in frustration. ‘I don’t know where I stand with her. She said that she would accept the flowers but she walked away without them. Is that some kind of secret female signal? If it is, I don’t understand what she is saying to me.’

  ‘For a single man who could have any beautiful unattached woman here, you look more like a married man who has returned home late at night smelling of liquor and cheap perfume,’ Guy said. ‘You are probably thinking that life was better back in the Pacific when you were just surviving from one day to the next.’

  ‘I think you deserve these flowers,’ James said, thrusting them into Guy’s hand. ‘You seem to know more about women than I do.’

  *

  The following day Sean arrived at his office, placed his hat on the rack and limped to his desk.

  ‘Major Duffy,’ a young articled clerk said through the doorway, ‘there is a young lady here to see you, but she does not have an appointment. Her name is Miss Jessica Duffy.’

  ‘Send her in immediately,’ Sean said, and within a few moments Jessica appeared.

  ‘Jessie! What a wonderful surprise to see you here,’ he said, rising from behind his desk and embracing her with one arm, the other leaning on his walking stick.

  ‘It is good to see you, too,’ Jessica said, breaking gently from the embrace. ‘I guess you know why I am here.’

  ‘Take a seat.’ Sean gestured to a chair near his desk. ‘I can only offer my condolences. From the little that I knew of Lieutenant Caccamo, I sensed that he was more than just fond of you.’

  ‘We might have had a future together,’ Jessica admitted, taking a seat. ‘Instead he has been murdered in cold blood, and I want justice.’

  ‘From what I know about your current posting in MacArthur’s HQ, and given that your young man worked for the same organisation, I can only think that your superiors had Mr Caccamo silenced,’ Sean said.

  ‘That is a strong possibility,’ Jessica answered. ‘But if anyone can get to the bottom of this, it is you, Major.’

  ‘Do you have leave to be down here in Sydney?’ Sean said.

  ‘I did have leave,’ Jessica replied. ‘But it ran out about an hour ago in Brisbane.’

  Sean raised his eyebrows. ‘So you are absent without leave,’ he said. ‘That is pretty serious.’

  ‘How could I continue working with people who might have been possibly responsible for having Tony murdered?’ Jessica countered. ‘I realise that taking unauthorised leave makes me a fugitive from the armed forces, but I have to know who killed Tony. Not just for my sake, but for the sake of his family back in New York.’

  ‘I understand,’ Sean said. ‘Do you have anywhere to stay in Sydney?’

  ‘My father has a place over at Strathfield,’ Jessica answered. ‘I will stay there.’

  ‘I know the place,’ Sean said. ‘It is currently tenanted by a couple of young ladies working in a factory. I am sure you will be able to take up a room there, but you will have to use an alias.’

  ‘I will,’ Jessica said. ‘I had a lot of time on the train to think of ways of keeping one step ahead of the law.’

  ‘You sound like one of my clients,’ Sean grinned. ‘Do you have money to keep you?’

  ‘I am sure that father can help me there,’ Jessica said. ‘But I would need to have the money come from you, and have Dad pay you back.’

  ‘Very wise,’ Sean said. ‘I can arrange that. Have you heard from your father lately?’

  ‘I received a letter from him to say that he has been discharged from the army, and has returned to one of our properties adjoining Glen View.’

  ‘I was saddened to hear that your dad lost the lower half of his left arm,’ Sean said. ‘I have been in contact with him about one of his men who wants to be transferred out of the Nackeroos into active service. I was able to get David to agree to a posting in his battalion. But I digress,’ he continued. ‘I have a meeting with a man being released from Long Bay this afternoon, he might be able to help me get my investigation going into Tony’s murder.’

  Jessica looked surprised. ‘I did not think you would care so much about his death,’ she said.

  ‘His family deserve the truth about why he died in this bloody war,’ Sean said. ‘He was a patriotic soldier doing his duty, and he should not be dismissed as some deluded criminal attempting to kill one of Britain’s finest.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jessica said, tears welling up in her eyes. ‘You have always been there for all of us.’

  ‘You look as if you have not had much sleep, my dear, so I suggest that you head off to your father’s place over in Strathfield. I will telephone ahead to let the tenants know you will be joining them. But first, you need another name.’

  ‘I thought that Joan Campbell would be my alias,’ Jessica said, and Sean nodded that he understood.

  ‘Then I will arrange that the appropriate identification papers be drawn up,’ he said.

  Jessica glanced at the man who was more than just her family solicitor. ‘Is that not illegal?’ she asked.

  ‘When you have been defending criminals as for as long as I have, it comes somewhat naturally to adopt some of their practices,’ he answered with a broad smile. ‘Now, go and get a good meal and a long sleep, young lady. I will keep you up to date with my investigation. You can call me on my number at home.’

  Jessica rose from her chair, walked around to Sean and threw her arms around his neck. ‘Thank you, Major,’ she said with tears in her eyes. ‘If anyone can get justice for Tony, it will be you.’

  After Jessica had left
the office Sean sat considering her faith in him. He knew that if the Americans were involved there was very little chance he would be able to get justice for Tony through the usual legal avenues. However, Sean had long ago learned that the law and justice were not the same thing. If he had to, he would find other, less conventional ways of prosecuting this case.

  Twelve

  Major David Macintosh had completed his company commander’s course and had been transferred to a training command as an instructor. He was disappointed not to have been returned to his unit in north Queensland, but he had been assured that the current posting was only temporary. At least it gave him the opportunity to see Sean, Patrick and Allison more frequently.

  It was mid-June and he was sitting at the kitchen table listening to the radio broadcast of the Prime Minister declaring that the imminent threat of Australia being invaded was finally over. On the European front the war had reversed Germany’s initial overwhelming drive against Russia, and now they were on the defensive as the Red Army secured a few vital victories.

  ‘Good news,’ Sean commented.

  ‘Unfortunately that does not mean the war is over,’ David said, sipping tea from a delicate china cup. ‘By rights, I should be back with the battalion.’

  ‘Enjoy the break whilst you can,’ Sean said. ‘I see that you and Allison are getting along nicely. She arrives each morning with a rose in her cheek.’

  ‘Careful, Uncle Sean,’ David chuckled. ‘Not information a young lad should be privy to.’ He reached over and ruffled Patrick’s hair playfully.

  ‘What do you mean, Uncle David?’ Patrick asked, looking up at David from his homework. Sean had enrolled the boy in a primary school run by nuns just down the road from his city apartment, and Patrick was startling to settle into his new life.

  ‘I will tell you one day – when you can shave,’ David said with a broad smile.

  Sean stirred sugar into his tea and gazed at the tall, broad-shouldered soldier and the young boy sitting at his kitchen table, and reflected on the past. He had never married, nor had children of his own, but he had raised David, and now he seemed to be raising Patrick. The Red Cross letters, when they came, indicated that Patrick’s mother was still alive in Changi prison. Sean knew that he was no substitute for the gentleness of a mother’s touch, but the boy seemed to be coping with the separation. The nuns at Patrick’s school had informed Sean that the boy was a good student, but prone to daydreaming during classes. A couple of the bullies at school had picked on him because he did not have a mother or father in his life, but Patrick had stood up for himself, even knocking down one of the older boys. Needless to say Sean had been summoned to the school, after Patrick had been given the strap for fighting, and he had found the boy sitting outside the mother superior’s office with a defiant expression on his face, and a black eye.

  ‘I had to fight, Uncle Sean,’ he said when he saw Sean. ‘They said bad things about my mother.’

  ‘I know you did,’ Sean reassured. ‘Did you win?’

  Patrick looked with surprise at Sean. ‘There were two of them, but I knocked out Daniel Murphy’s front teeth. He ran away crying.’

  Sean tried to hide his smile of satisfaction for the boy who carried the fighting spirit of the Duffy clan. ‘Well, Sister Mary has informed me that you were not completely at fault in the fight, but she was forced to give you the strap for not apologising to Daniel Murphy for knocking his teeth out. I think the matter has now been resolved. I am going to make sure that next time two boys try to take you on, you will be able to knock out both boys’ teeth.’

  Patrick had given Sean a quizzical look. He had not yet been exposed to Harry Griffith’s gym for boxers.

  ‘I have a date tonight,’ David said now, rising from the table. ‘Allison and I are going off to the flicks.’

  ‘What are you going to see?’ Sean asked.

  ‘The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp,’ David replied. ‘I believe it is about your generation of soldiering.’

  ‘Yes,’ Sean said. ‘I knew a few Colonel Blimps in the last lot. Have fun but don’t keep my girl out too long. She has a big day tomorrow helping me prepare briefs.’

  David bid Sean and Patrick goodnight, and Sean was able to drop his pretence of being relaxed. He looked to the telephone and waited for it to ring. It had been three weeks since he had tried to make contact with his client being released from Long Bay, but the man had been released earlier than expected and had then promptly disappeared. Sean had put the word out that there was money in it if the released man contacted him, and finally he had been informed that the man would call his home this evening.

  The telephone rang and Sean jumped up to answer it.

  ‘I hear you want to talk to me, Major,’ said the male voice on the other end.

  ‘You made a rather quick exit from the Bay,’ Sean replied. ‘I was waiting to talk to you, but they said you had been released a few hours before your allocated time.’

  ‘Yeah, the governor’s a real nice bloke,’ the former prisoner said sarcastically. ‘Extra time off for good behaviour.’

  Sean suspected that the prison officials did not want him to speak to anyone present in the gaol when Tony had been murdered and had spirited his client away before he could speak to his lawyer. But avarice was a strong motivator, and the reward was generous enough to persuade the man to make contact.

  ‘What do you know about the killing of the Canadian prisoner?’ Sean asked without further niceties.

  ‘You give me the reward and I will tell you,’ the man said.

  ‘So you don’t know anything,’ Sean answered. ‘It would be a waste of time paying you.’

  There was a pause and finally the voice said, ‘Detective Sergeant Preston put them up to it. You deliver the money to the pub tomorrow and I will give you the names of the bastards who did the Canadian in.’

  Sean knew his source was reliable: the man had helped him in the past with inside information. He cared less about the prisoners who had actually killed Tony than the man who had put them up to it. He needed to trace back to the source, and the name of the police officer rang a bell.

  ‘I will leave a package with Mabel at the bar,’ Sean said. ‘Better that we aren’t seen together.’

  ‘Good thinking, Major,’ the man said. ‘You had better watch your back if you are snooping into Preston,’ the man cautioned. ‘He is a bad bastard who would sell out his own mother if there was a quid in it.’

  Sean thanked him and placed the phone on the cradle. Detective Sergeant Preston . . . now he remembered! It was rumoured that the crooked police officer occasionally assisted Sir George Macintosh. But as far as Sean knew, Sir George had no link to Tony, so the crooked policeman must have taken his orders from someone else. From what Sean had learned from Tony, that had to be the British traitor, Lord Albert Ulverstone, who must have suspected that Tony was the attempted assassin.

  Sean ushered Patrick off to bed, and when he returned to the kitchen he took down the bottle of good whisky and poured himself a stiff drink.

  Sir George was the link, he felt certain of that. Ulverstone would not have had contact with Preston otherwise, and it was well known that Macintosh and Ulverstone often dined together at the Australia Club or the Imperial Services Club.

  Sean took a deep swallow of the fiery liquid. He was walking on dangerous ground if he was going to link a well-known police officer, a respected Australian knight of the realm and a British lord to a conspiracy to commit murder. He would have to tread very carefully from here on.

  Sean was asleep slumped at the table when David returned from the movies. He gently woke Sean, and assisted him to his bed.

  *

  Sarah paced her office, her thoughts consumed with the fact that Allison was occupying David’s leave time. What if she told him that he was Michael’s real father? Would that bring him back to her? No,
that was not an option for her. The scandal would destroy any hope she had of taking sole control of the family enterprises.

  ‘Your father is here to see you, Miss Macintosh,’ her secretary said from the doorway.

  ‘Show him in, Anne,’ Sarah said, composing herself. ‘Sit down, Daddy,’ she said, ushering him to a comfortable leather chair.

  Sir George eased himself into the chair. ‘I have just had an interesting talk with your brother,’ he said, and Sarah experienced a twinge of annoyance. She was acutely aware that her father liked to pit her against Donald; it was his way of manipulating them. Still, she understood him; she had inherited his desire for control.

  ‘I doubt that Donald could have had much to contribute,’ Sarah snorted, taking a cigarette from a gold case and lighting it.

  ‘He thinks we should throw our weight behind Curtin and his Labor Party in the next elections.’

  ‘What?’ Sarah exclaimed in shock. ‘The Labor Party is full of communists. They gave tacit support to those stupid women munitions workers in Melbourne who went on strike for equal pay. I have always suspected that Donald is a communist sympathiser. It will bring us down one day.’

  ‘You exaggerate,’ Sir George said. ‘He thinks we should throw our lot in with what he expects to be the winning side in the August elections. After all, we have benefitted a great deal from government contracts and we do not wish to lose them with a change of government. After some consideration, I agree that we should be sympathetic to the Labor cause – at least until the end of the war.’

  Sarah puffed heavily on her cigarette. Her brother had just usurped her position again and her father had been swayed to his side.

  ‘I believe that your husband visited Goulburn to see your son,’ Sir George said, changing the subject. ‘I question whether your leaving him is such a good idea. My sources tell me that he has proven himself a sterling pilot and officer. Such a man by your side can only enhance your station in Sydney society.’