by Peter Watt
‘Something very serious must have happened to make Jessie go AWOL,’ Tom said. ‘No wonder I have heard so little from her in the last month or so.’
‘Come inside and I will make us a pot of tea,’ Abigail said gently, sensing Tom’s concern. ‘Whatever has happened, I am sure Jessica is well.’
Tom followed Abigail inside the house and sat down at the kitchen table. In the distance he could hear his stockmen shouting and whooping as they brought in a few head of cattle they had rounded up from a back paddock. Tom puzzled over his daughter’s absence from her military posting and he racked his memory for where she could possibly be. There was one place she might go in Sydney, a house in Strathfield that was part of his real estate portfolio. He also remembered that it was connected to the telephone, but there was no such luxury on his cattle station. At least it would be a starting point for his search for his daughter.
‘Abigail,’ Tom said, looking across the table at the woman he had come to love. ‘I will have to head off for a few weeks.’
‘Does this have anything to do with Jessie?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ Tom answered. ‘But I don’t want to tell you any more because I don’t want it coming back on you.’
‘I understand,’ Abigail said, reaching across the table to hold Tom’s hand. ‘Just be careful. You know that I love you.’
Tom grasped Abigail’s hand and held it firmly. ‘I will brief Brendan on what is required,’ he said eventually. ‘He is a good manager and things will run smoothly while I’m gone.’
‘Promise me you will keep in contact with me,’ Abigail pleaded. ‘I have come to learn that you are a man who does not run from danger.’
Tom looked with surprise at Abigail. ‘Why do you think there is any danger in my search for Jessie?’ he asked.
‘Call it a woman’s intuition,’ Abigail said. ‘But I feel there is danger out there waiting for you. I had a dream that there was a pool of muddy water and a great flock of crows squabbling over something dead.’
Tom squeezed Abigail’s hand to reassure her. ‘You have been too long in this part of the world. It is the isolation that brings on such dreams.’
But Abigail was not so sure. It was said that the women in her family had a gift for seeing the future. Her own grandmother in their small English village had been whispered to be a witch.
That evening Tom packed a suitcase with clothes and essentials. He walked over to the wall and took down the .303 Lee Enfield hanging there. With his functional arm he stripped the weapon down and packed it carefully in the large suitcase. Next to the rifle he placed a box of cartridges. He did not know quite why he was taking his rifle, but he did not feel comfortable leaving without it.
The next day Tom briefed his manager and kissed Abigail goodbye. A sulky had been prepared, and one of the station hands took the reins. Abigail watched the sulky take her man from the property, remaining on the verandah until the following dust cloud swallowed him from her view. He would reach the nearest large town with a rail head, and from there travel by train to Sydney.
*
Jessica Duffy had spent many sleepless nights, tossing and turning, desperately trying to work out a plan to execute the British traitor. She knew that she would need help but the other two conspirators could not be expected to be physically involved in the deadly mission. For Jessica this was not only an act of revenge but also a vow to finish what Tony had started under orders from his government.
She telephoned Donald Macintosh and they arranged to meet at a small cafe a couple of blocks from his city office. Jessica arrived first. The weather was wet and cold and that had kept many workers indoors in their office buildings. The cafe had only three other patrons: three young women wearing overalls, workers in the small automotive shop nearby. Jessica overheard them enthusiastically discussing car mechanical systems. The war had changed so much; what would their futures be like when the men returned, Jessica wondered.
When Donald entered the cafe Jessica watched as the three young women snatched admiring glances at him. She could hardly blame them: he did look handsome in his raincoat and expensive three-piece suit. He sat down and ordered a pot of tea and a devon sandwich with cheese from the very young and pretty waitress hovering nearby with a small notebook and pencil at hand.
‘You look like you could do with some sleep,’ Donald said to Jessica.
‘You could be right,’ she answered. ‘I haven’t slept well since our meeting on the ferry.’
‘I hope you have come to your senses and have dropped your crazy idea of going after Ulverstone,’ Donald said.
‘Why would I?’ Jessica countered. ‘Ulverstone is a danger to our security.’
‘You are not an SOE or a Yank OSS operative,’ Donald said. ‘You should leave the matter to others. I think you should return to your unit back in Brisbane and throw yourself on their mercy. I am sure that Mr Curtin will be able to pull a few strings to keep you in the Yanks’ good books. If not, I can arrange to visit you in Long Bay Gaol and bring a cake with a file in it.’
Jessica smiled at Donald’s clumsy effort at humour. ‘I like chocolate cake,’ she said. ‘With sugar icing topping, but somehow I doubt you are a very good cook.’
‘You are right about my cooking skills,’ Donald sighed. ‘But seriously, Jessie, I am the last person who wants to see you get into any serious trouble. You mean a lot to me.’
Jessica frowned. A short silence fell between them while the waitress placed a plate with a sandwich on it before Donald. ‘The tea is on its way,’ she said and left them alone again.
‘The Yanks are pretty angry about your disappearance,’ Donald said. ‘It seems that you carry many valuable secrets with you.’
‘I would never disclose what I know to anyone,’ Jessica replied. ‘What I have briefed you about in the past had nothing to do with the coded messages I dealt with.’
‘We know that, Jessie,’ Donald reassured. ‘You only passed on the politics of Mac’s staff.’
‘I asked to meet with you here today to float an idea,’ Jessica said, changing the subject. ‘I want to have you set up a social meeting with Lord Ulverstone – if you can.’
‘Why?’ Donald asked, placing the half-eaten sandwich on the plate. ‘What do you have in mind?’
Jessica stared over Donald’s shoulder at the three young motor mechanics leaving the cafe. They were laughing, and umbrellas popped as they stepped out into the rain. How she envied their simple aspirations in life: probably to meet some handsome young man and marry him. She thought only of taking a man’s life, and risking her own in a mission she had now made hers alone.
‘I need to gain his trust,’ she answered and saw Donald break into a broad smile.
‘That is not going to work,’ he chuckled, shaking his head.
‘Why not?’ Jessica questioned. ‘Don’t you think I am attractive enough to catch a man’s eye?’
‘Jessie, you are the most beautiful woman in the world, but Ulverstone prefers the company of young men,’ Donald said.
‘What do you mean by that?’ Jessica asked.
‘He came through the ranks of the best English public schools and acquired a taste for the touch of other men. Do I have to spell it out?’
‘Oh,’ Jessica said. ‘I think I know what you mean. You mean like Mr George Bernard Shaw.’
‘And others,’ Donald said just as his pot of tea was placed in front of him. ‘It is something many turn a blind eye to because it is a crime to be so inclined in our society.’
‘I see that my idea will not work, then,’ Jessica said. ‘I will have to think of another way to get to him.’
‘Jessie,’ Donald said and she was aware that he had reached over the table to take both her hands. ‘I am begging you to drop the idea of killing the man. It is too dangerous.’
Jessica could feel the old stir
rings she remembered when she had met Donald for the first time and felt herself deeply attracted to him. She had tried to ignore his hints about how he felt towards her, but it was obvious now in his eyes. The flicker of a flame could easily turn to a raging fire if she let it.
‘I appreciate your sentiments, Donald, but I am also a member of our armed forces and, as such, committed to seeking out the enemies of my country,’ she said.
‘Leave that to the men on the battlefield,’ Donald said. ‘This mission was not one meant for you.’
‘Is Ulverstone no less a danger to our country than any Japanese soldier or airman bombing the northern towns on the coast?’ Jessica replied. ‘Just because I am a woman I should not be prepared to put my life on the line?’
‘I did not mean that,’ Donald said. ‘Maybe I can figure out a way to expose Ulverstone.’
Jessica withdrew her hands from his. ‘I think we should finish our conversation now and I will take time to think of another way of getting to the man,’ she said, rising from the table. ‘I will call you when I have a new plan.’
Donald watched her pay her bill and then step outside onto the wet streets and flip open her umbrella. He did not finish his tea; it had begun to leave a sour taste in his mouth.
*
Jessica arrived at the Strathfield house and walked up the big painted concrete steps. She shook her umbrella and left it outside the front door, then stepped inside. She knew immediately that she was not alone in the house: there was the instantly recognisable scent of pipe tobacco wafting down the hallway. Her heart leapt in her breast as she stepped into the kitchen and she saw her father sitting at a table, a mug of steaming tea before him.
‘Hello, Jessie,’ he said, rising from the chair to sweep her up with his good arm. The crushing embrace left the young woman speechless, until he put her back on her feet.
‘Dad!’ she exclaimed. ‘How . . . when?’
‘This morning, on the train from Brisbane,’ he said, holding his beloved daughter at arm’s length so he could examine her. ‘You look awful.’
Jessica broke into tears and wrapped her arms around her father, acutely aware that the lower part of his left arm was missing. ‘Oh Daddy, it is so good to see you again,’ she said between sobs. She felt as though she was once again a little girl in the arms of the tall, strong man who was her loving father, that she was safe and protected with him.
‘I think you need a good strong cup of tea,’ he said gently.
‘I would prefer coffee,’ his daughter replied.
‘You have been with the Yanks for too long,’ Tom said with a laugh.
‘How the dickens did you know to find me here?’ Jessica asked as her father pulled a jar of coffee down from the shelf.
‘I was not sure where I would find you,’ Tom said, placing the jar under his armpit and unscrewing the lid. He was becoming very adept at managing with only one arm. ‘But this was as good as any place to start. According to our agents, I believe that you have a couple of other tenants staying here.’
‘Yes, but they will not be returning from work until later this afternoon,’ Jessica said, taking the jar from her father and finding a cup.
‘Are you going to tell your old dad why you went AWOL?’ Tom asked.
Jessica stood for a moment holding the coffee jar. ‘It’s a long and complicated story,’ she said.
‘As you are a complicated woman – like your mother – I would expect no other kind of story,’ Tom smiled grimly. ‘Sit down and tell me.’
Jessica placed the jar on a bench and sat down opposite her father. ‘While I was at General MacArthur’s HQ in Brisbane I met an American officer, Lieutenant Tony Caccamo,’ she said.
‘Yes, I know the name. You mentioned him a couple of times in your letters. I got the impression you were a bit smitten with him,’ Tom said.
‘I think I loved him,’ Jessica said. ‘I would have been sure if I had had the opportunity to get to know him better, but he was murdered.’
‘Murdered,’ Tom said with surprise. ‘How and when did this happen?’
Jessica told her father the American officer’s mission, arrest and subsequent murder in prison by agents of Lord Ulverstone or, worse, his own government.
‘I feel that the only way to get justice for Tony and his family is to finish his mission.’
‘What! Are you saying that you plan to kill this Pommy lord?’ her father asked in utter surprise. ‘Is this why you have deserted your post?’
‘What would you have done in my shoes, Daddy?’ Jessica asked in despair.
Tom drew a long breath and sighed. He stared at his daughter and could see utter defeat. Oh, how much he could see her mother in her expression. ‘I want you to promise me that you will do nothing foolish,’ he said. ‘I will go and see Major Duffy and sort something out.’ Tom could see relief etched in Jessica’s tired face. ‘I am booked into a hotel not far from Sean’s office, so I will call him as soon as I get back. In the meantime, as your father, I suggest that you get some sleep and let me worry about fixing your problems. You and I will go out to a good place to eat tomorrow, and you will fill me in on all that has happened since we were last in contact.’
Jessica rose from her chair and flung her arms around her father. ‘Thank you, Daddy,’ she said, not really knowing, or even caring at this moment, what her father planned to do. She had to admit to herself that talking bravely about executing Ulverstone had been easier than actually going through with it.
Tom gave his daughter one last kiss and hug before stepping out into the rain. He unfurled his umbrella and walked to the railway station to catch a train to the city. As he walked he thought about the rifle tucked away in his suitcase. It was obvious that his war was not over.
Seventeen
The two old soldiers met at their favourite pub around the corner from Sean’s legal office. It had just opened for the morning but was already filling with men in uniform. Tom Duffy and Sean Duffy stood at the bar, one man missing part of his arm, the other missing his two legs, veterans of the battlefield now cast as spectators in this new war.
‘So you found Jessie,’ Sean said after greeting Tom warmly and ordering a round of drinks. ‘I am sorry that I could not tell you she was down in Sydney – she made me swear to keep her whereabouts a secret even from you.’
‘I can accept that,’ Tom said, taking a swig from his beer. ‘You are, after all, her solicitor.’
‘I am also your legal advisor,’ Sean countered. ‘I should have told you.’
‘No matter,’ Tom said, taking a swig from his beer. ‘The main thing is that I have found her and, all going well, will be able to convince her to give up on this bloody stupid idea of killing the Pommy lord.’
‘I presume she has briefed you on Ulverstone’s traitorous activities,’ Sean said. ‘I guess you also know that the American soldier murdered in the Bay was very special to her.’
‘Yeah, pity I didn’t get to meet him,’ Tom said. ‘He must have been a bloody good bloke to win Jessie’s heart.’
‘I did meet him, and I can see how Jessie would have fallen for the man,’ Sean said. ‘He was a good bloke.’
‘How do I stop my daughter from doing something she will regret for the rest of her life?’ Tom asked. ‘She is no killer.’
‘Cobber, unless someone else finishes the job for her, I very much doubt you will be able to stop her,’ Sean answered. ‘She may not be my daughter but I have watched her grow up, and I know that once she makes her mind up, not even her father can stop her.’
‘Then the only solution is for someone else to do the job for her,’ Tom said quietly.
‘I am afraid that you are right, and knowing you, Tom Duffy, I understand what you are saying.’
‘Who else knows about Jessie’s intentions?’ Tom asked.
‘Donald Macintosh,’ Sean re
plied.
‘Young Macintosh!’ Tom exclaimed. ‘How the bloody hell has he got himself tangled up in this?’
‘I strongly suspect that Ulverstone had Sir George’s assistance with the murder,’ Sean said. ‘I have known Donald for a few years now and I will vouch for him. He is not, as they say, his father’s son. Besides, I think he has direct links to the Prime Minister himself and may be well placed to help us.’
‘Whatever I am planning, I don’t intend to involve you,’ Tom said.
‘Too late, cobber,’ Sean grinned. ‘The fact that we are even discussing the idea puts us back in the war, but this time a bit of behind-the-lines work, like we did on the Western Front in no-man’s-land. We carried out dangerous missions then with little expectation of coming home alive. This is just the same thing but in a different time and place.’
‘I’m sure you can understand that what we have discussed here today cannot get back to Jessie,’ Tom said. ‘She might get the impression that I am taking over and excluding her.’
‘I know what you are saying, old chap,’ Sean answered. ‘She might worry about you.’
‘Something like that,’ Tom said, taking another swig of his beer.
Sean raised his glass and tapped Tom’s. A pact was sealed in the simple gesture, and two old soldiers were once again active in the war. But this time they had more than their lives at stake. To fail could bring about national outrage, and absolute disgrace to the Duffy name.
*
Sitting behind her desk in her office, Sarah Macintosh hardly heard a word uttered by her manager as he delivered his report on the Macintosh agricultural production quotas. She had just been informed that Major David Macintosh had been posted north to Queensland to rejoin his battalion.
Work pressures had distracted her from seeking out the man she was obsessed with, and soon he would be out of her reach. By all accounts a love was blossoming between David and Allison, and that simply would not do, as David belonged to Sarah, despite his rejection of her. Well, the only way to disrupt any romantic relationship was to go on the attack. Allison was no match for the resources Sarah could muster to drive a wedge between the two lovebirds. Sarah was determined to crush her best friend in subtle ways that only a very devious woman could conjure.