To Parts Unknown

by John Anthony Miller

  When I met Thomas and Lady Jane for dinner that evening to discuss the rescue, Lady Jane showed no sign of the irritation expressed the day before. I briefly described my meeting with Joe Durgan, emphasizing what a tremendous opportunity he offered. I mentioned the bank robberies, describing my shock that people would profit from such a precarious and tragic situation. Neither seemed interested. They studied the menu and sipped their wine.

  “There will always be thieves,” Lady Jane said. “In good times or bad.”

  I was actually making casual conversation, moving towards the topic I truly wanted to explore. I had clipped the ad from the paper and put it in my pocket.

  “Lady Jane,” I said delicately. “I also noticed a classified ad seeking your whereabouts.”

  She seemed stunned, but then she shrugged. “I’m not surprised.”

  I read the ad to them. “Maybe your father is the one following you or someone in his employ?”

  “It’s possible,” she said. “I’m sure they’re frantic. But they also disowned me. I find it somewhat hypocritical that they’re now combing the globe to find me, placing classified ads in the London Times.”

  “Maybe they realize they made a mistake, and they love you and miss you.” I said, imagining myself in their position.

  Her face softened. “That may be true. And I miss them, too. But too many hateful things were said. I can’t pretend that nothing happened. At least, not now. Maybe in time, I will. And I’m sure that someday I’ll go back to India. But it won’t be for a while.”

  “Don’t be too harsh,” I said. “You never know when something will happen that changes the way you feel or even changes the entire course of your life.”

  I thought about Maggie’s death as I always seemed to. It had certainly changed me. No matter how far I ran, or where I went, I couldn’t forget her.

  We were quiet for a moment, lost in our thoughts. But it was time to discuss the most important issue. I turned to Thomas. “Are we ready for the rescue?”

  “Yes,” he said casually, as if we battled the Japanese on a daily basis. “We leave in the morning. And don’t forget your forged passports.”

  Our departure, though expected, was a bit sudden and jarring. “You arranged that quickly,” I said numbly. “How long will we be gone?”

  “Just a few days."

  “How are we going to do this?” Lady Jane asked. Her voice wavered, and the hint of fear flickered across her face. Maybe she would reconsider and stay in Batavia. She must be terrified, as any sane person would be. I was.

  “Obviously we can’t attack the Japanese,” Thomas said. “But fortunately, I am familiar with the rubber plantation. I know where all of the outbuildings are located, the proximity to the river, the rooms of the house, where the field hands live. All that knowledge can be used to my advantage.”

  “How will we get there?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine flying again. And it was several hundred miles away.

  “A very close friend of Van der Meer’s and mine has a fishing boat. We’ll meet him at the docks. Then we’ll journey to Sumatra, hugging the coast and blending with other fishing vessels before we travel upriver to the rubber plantation. There’s heavy traffic because the oil fields are nearby, but that may work to our advantage.”

  “What about the actual rescue?” I asked.

  “I will go ashore during the night and assess the situation,” Thomas said. “I don’t expect a significant force. There could be as little as ten or twelve, if that. The Japanese have different plans for their soldiers.”

  “Yes,” I said grimly. “World conquest.”

  "What time are we leaving?" Lady Jane asked. "We’ll meet in the lobby at 7 a.m.,” he replied.

  “And don’t bring luggage. Is that understood?" We both nodded.

  "Only the clothes on your back,” he emphasized. “Wear something suitable for the jungle. Lady Jane, are you still going?"

  "Of course," she said. “I wouldn’t let you try it without me.”

  "It's not too late to change your mind."

  She looked at him defiantly and shook her head. “I’m going."

  He sighed. “Then we’ll meet in the morning. I suggest we all get a good night’s sleep." Then, almost as an afterthought, he added a warning. "You have no idea how dangerous this will be."

  CHAPTER 20

  I tossed and turned, unable to sleep, as Thomas’s warning echoed in my mind. We really did have no idea of the danger. Even trained commandoes would find such an attempt difficult. Why ever dream we could do it?

  I wondered what it would be like, crawling into a fortified Japanese encampment and trying to snatch two captives from under their noses. It had to be dangerous, next to impossible, and certainly not a task for two untrained men. I didn’t know about Thomas’s credentials, but I had only fired a gun a handful of times. I had no experience in hand-to-hand combat, had never been in a fight in my life, and certainly posed no threat to Japanese soldiers who had already conquered most of the Pacific.

  I arose early the next morning and dressed in a pair of khaki pants with a matching shirt. Rolling the sleeves up past my elbows, I gazed in a full-length mirror, and grinned when I saw the image. I could easily play the part of jungle adventurer. I looked again and laughed at my scrawny body. Well, maybe not.

  I left my room just as Lady Jane exited her suite. "Good morning, George," she said.

  She wore form-fitting pants tucked into knee-high boots with a beige blouse. A brown satchel hung on her shoulder. It was a functional choice of apparel. But to me, she looked beautiful in whatever she wore.

  "My, you’re especially quiet this morning," she added. She smiled, lighting the hallway.

  I was embarrassed, certain she caught me admiring her. “Still waking up, I suppose,” I countered quickly. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs."

  We walked down the hallway and saw Thomas leaving his room. He wore blue pants and a matching shirt, a yachting cap crowning his head. A half-smoked cigar, proof we were destined for uncivilized territory, hung from clenched teeth.

  "Do you have your fake passports?" he asked.

  "Of course," I replied.

  “And we left our belongings in our rooms,” Lady Jane said.

  “Then let’s be underway,” he said.

  We walked down a grand stairway, one of the unique features of the Hotel Duncan, and entered the tiled lobby. It was quiet; two men sat in a corner reading the paper, and a woman chatted with the registration clerk. I thought of the lobby at the Victoria Hotel on the day we departed, the chaos, and what a contrast this was.

  We exited the hotel and stopped abruptly, unprepared for the sight before us. At the curb, waiting for our arrival, sat a silver Rolls Royce.

  "Today we travel in style," Thomas announced.

  "Thomas, this is so unlike you," Lady Jane said. “I was expecting another wagon.” She plopped onto the black leather seats. “Very nice. I haven’t driven in one of these for at least two weeks,” she joked.

  "Borrowed from a friend," he said. “The well- dressed gentleman I spoke to in the taproom the other night. It’s a nice way to exit the city.”

  We spent twenty minutes cruising through crowded streets, reversing the path we took on our arrival - past houses and churches and mosques and canals and shops and markets - reveling in the luxury the Rolls Royce provided. When we reached the harbor, it was much larger than I’d expected with rows of piers and wharfs and warehouses supporting ships of various size and purpose.

  All too soon, however, our hopes of continued comfort faded when the car halted at a remote section of the wharf directly in front of three rustic fishing trawlers.

  We reluctantly left the vehicle, and I noticed how the morning sun reflected off the brilliant silver finish. Thomas paid the driver, an elderly man in a starched suit, and chatted with him for a moment in Dutch. The limousine drove away, leaving us standing on the pier.

  Thomas shaded his eyes and shouted. “Ahoy, Be
nnie!"

  A moment later a Javanese man emerged from the cabin of the closest ship.

  "Thomas!" he called. "Come aboard."

  Thomas led us onto the craft. It was a bit weathered, the lacquer finish showing signs of age, but it seemed seaworthy and well cared for. I expected to be overwhelmed with the smell of fish since it was a fishing trawler, but no offensive odor was present. Rope and nets and various types of fishing gear were neatly stacked or stored on deck, most of which appeared new or little-used.

  Bennie was slender, his sinewy body evidence of a seafarer’s life. He had tattoos on both forearms depicting a man biting off a snake’s head and a shapely woman named Lia. The tattoos were colorful, common to the ports, and provided a hint as to the character of their owner. His face was leathery, hardened by years of battling wind and waves, or from a life harder than most, I couldn’t say for sure. Half of his right eyebrow was missing and scarred. My initial impression was that he was not a man to fight with even though he seemed genuine and sincere, generous and friendly. I wondered why he so readily risked his life.

  "These are my good friends," Thomas continued. "George Adams and Lady Jane Carrington Smythe. This is my dear friend Bennie."

  “Do you know Mr. Van der Meer?” I asked.

  “I do,” he said. “Although not as well as Thomas does.” He looked at Thomas and chuckled. “Or should I say I don’t know Thomas as well as Van der Meer does.”

  “I would like to hear that story some time,” I said. “Van der Meer must be a good friend if you’re willing to risk your life for him.”

  “He is,” Bennie said. “But let’s hope there’s no danger.” Then he smiled, flashing a few rotting teeth. “Or just enough to make it interesting.”

  His statement made me shiver as if someone had just run their fingernails across a chalkboard. I guessed that he was no stranger to risk, not adverse to danger, not one to run from a fight. Maybe he had been in more than one barroom brawl. Or maybe he had survived worse. After I’d thought about it, I realized he was just the type of man you would want on a journey like this. I’m sure that’s why Thomas chose him. Or why Bennie had agreed to do it.

  He turned to Lady Jane. "It's been a long time since I've had a woman on board. I hope you'll be comfortable."

  She smiled politely. “I’m sure everything will be fine. Thank you so much.”

  Bennie called out, and a young Asian lad, about twelve years old, emerged from the cabin. He was bare- chested, wearing only a pair of short pants.

  "This is Adi,” Bennie said. “He was an orphan. But now I take care of him. He’s a hard worker and a good companion. We make a good team." He ruffled the boy’s hair.

  His statement, which was innocent enough and attested to the warmth of his heart, stirred unexpected emotions. It made me think of Chin wandering the streets after his parents had died.

  “Hello, young man. How are you?” Lady Jane asked. She extended a hand and shook his.

  He smiled, appreciative of the attention. “I’m well,” he said in heavily accented English.

  Bennie gave Adi some instructions, and the lad disappeared below deck. Minutes later the diesel engines started, and Bennie cast off the mooring lines. The small trawler chugged through the harbor past vessels of varying size from Dutch battleships to small fishing boats. Then we moved out to sea, gaining speed but hugging the coastline.

  Once underway, I went to a section of deck that was free of fishing gear and leaned against the railing, gazing at the outline of land on the horizon. I opened my journal and started writing. The pen moved fluidly across the page as I captured thoughts about Java, the rescue, Sumatra, fishing trawlers, Bennie and his tattoos, and his devotion to his adopted son. My plan was to have material, not only for Harry Simpkins of theTimes, but also Joe Durgan of the Associated Press.

  A few moments later, Lady Jane followed me on deck. She leaned on the railing, a book in her hand, the ocean breeze blowing her hair away from her face. She watched the sea, unusually pensive.

  "What are you writing, George?" she asked.

  "Just a few things I’ve been thinking about," I said. “You love to write, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “It’s my passion. When I get up in the morning I can’t wait to get started. And as I fall asleep at night, I think about what I’m going to write the next day.”

  “Why don’t you write novels?” she asked. She held up the book in her hand. “Like this one. I’ll be your editor.”

  I could think of nothing better than sitting on the coast somewhere, watching the sea and writing books that Lady Jane proofread. “Marvelous,” I said softly, turning to face her. “I can’t think of anything nicer.”

  “I certainly have the background,” she said, not understanding that her credentials didn’t really matter. “I read three or four books a month. And I edited all my father’s reports and government documents. It doesn’t sound like much, but it was really a full time job.”

  I looked at the book in her hand. It was entitledMurder at the North Pole.

  “You certainly love those murder mysteries,” I said. “And you seem to have an unlimited supply.”

  She laughed. “I’m addicted to them. But it varies. As soon as I finish this series, and there are fifty in total, I’ll move on to something else. I change it every year. Last year it was period romances, England and Scotland in the eighteenth century.”

  I marveled at how her eyes sparkled when she smiled and laughed; they were so full of life. Maggie’s eyes had been like that too. “What about the other books you read likeSocial Stratification of the Indian Subcontinent?”

  “I always read one fiction and one non-fiction book at the same time,” she said. “I like to swap back and forth.” “So you saved the books in your suitcase?” I asked.

  “They weren’t too wet?”

  “No, I couldn’t do anything with them,” she said.

  “I had to discard them. But Thomas took me to a bookstore that had a whole section of books in English. Even these.” She held up her murder mystery.

  My heart sank. I didn’t know she had been spending time with Thomas. “That’s nice,” I said quietly.

  “It was,” she replied. “I couldn’t thank him enough. It was far from the hotel; I don’t know how he found it. He took me shopping for clothes too. What a nice man. He looked so silly, waiting patiently for me to choose what I wanted.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “I would have taken you shopping,” I said softly.

  She kissed my cheek lightly. “You’re a sweet man, George.”

  I forced a smile but felt nothing but hurt. She had kissed me the same way my sister did or the way a friend would kiss me at Christmas. It was nothing like the kiss on the beach with hints of so much more to come. But maybe that was an isolated moment when she was overcome with emotion. It may never happen again.

  CHAPTER 21

  Lady Jane walked into the cabin, chatted with Bennie and Thomas, and then went back on deck with Adi. They moved to the other end of the trawler and talked for a few minutes, but I couldn’t hear what they said. Lady Jane started to read aloud from her book. I’m not sure how much English the boy understood, but he enjoyed the attention and appeared to dote on his new friend.

  I went back to my writing, scribbling away, and an hour or more passed. I noticed Bennie and Thomas standing in the cabin, downing shots of gin. They were telling tales of their adventures, some dating back fifteen years, and all ending with a raucous bout of laughter. Their stories included countries on three continents, common acquaintances from all walks of life, and always ended with them solving some insurmountable problem, typically at someone else’s expense. Their laughter increased with their gin intake.

  Thomas’s motivation was a mystery to me. What made him move from city to city, nation to nation, with no visible means of support and no apparent interests? He seemed to know everyone that mattered and some who didn’t. All who knew him greeted him with a smile and a
firm handshake or a warm hug. He had also helped me more than once, when he hadn’t needed to and when he’d had nothing to gain.

  Bennie was another matter. Squeezing out a living as a fisherman, he somehow didn’t match the occupation. His tattoos and eerie grin made him seem more like a convict than an angler. Although a portion of the deck was covered with stowed nets and other gear, it didn’t appear as if it had ever been used. I couldn’t imagine Bennie ever using it. Far more interesting were his missing eyebrow and the tattoos on each forearm.

  Lady Jane spent the entire afternoon with Adi, and the two then prepared dinner. They made fish accented with native spices and complimented with fruit. We enjoyed the meal and the casual conversation. I think we all avoided talk of the war, keeping the upcoming rescue at bay.

  Darkness found us sprawled on deck while Lady Jane slept in the cabin. The moonlit sky served as our ceiling; the sound of tumbling waves sung us to sleep. I enjoyed the serenity, savoring it like a long-absent pleasure. I knew it wouldn’t last.

  I was still confused by Lady Jane. She almost seemed like two different people: a friend but potential love interest, wary but curious, someone who couldn’t quite make up her mind. And there were also other suitors: Balraj, the diversion who may have returned, Sir Gregory, the hand-picked husband, and Thomas, the human riddle, the flirt, the man who always seemed to be there when you needed a friend. As I drifted off to sleep, I remembered how much easier it was to understand Maggie.

  Bennie prepared breakfast, and we crowded around the table and drank coconut milk while we waited. The juice was sweeter and thinner than I was accustomed to, but I did acquire a taste for it. Once the meal was finished, Adi filled our plates with what looked like oatmeal. I sampled a small forkful and found it quite tasty. I learned that it was porridge made of coconut, pineapple, some tofu, and bits of fish.

  After breakfast we reemerged on deck, enjoying the perfect weather. Thomas flirted with Lady Jane, much to Bennie’s amusement.

  “Lady Jane, you look fabulous this morning,” Thomas said. “I think the life of a fisherman agrees with you.”