The officer left the boat, a pistol in his hand, and waved the four sailors towards him. They huddled near the outbuilding, using it as shelter, and discussed the situation. The sailors were reporting their findings; the officer was revealing his strategy.
Another grenade exploded, followed by six rifle shots in a long string, indicating the escalation of the battle. The timing was perfect; the soldiers displayed a sense of urgency as the officer’s conversation became more animated.
Two sailors and the officer returned to the boat. The other two sailors sat in the shadows of the shack armed with rifles. They guarded the supplies and the pathway to the summit where telescopes, valuable radios, and more supplies were housed. Along with five dead comrades.
The boat chugged from the dock setting course for the other side of the island, the sailors determined to combat an unknown enemy. Another grenade exploded as the vessel departed, legitimizing the threat.
“What are we going to do with the guards?” Lady Jane asked. “We weren’t expecting them.”
“I know,” I said, fingering the two grenades that daggled from my belt. “I hadn’t planned on that at all.”
Twilight yielded to darkness, sounds of combat still evident on the distant shore. The Japanese boat had disappeared from sight, speeding towards battle. Lady Jane and I stayed hidden in the shrubs, watching the two sailors by the shack. Three torches lit the area, spaced around the dock and identifying the path to the summit.
“We need to do something with the guards,” Lady Jane said. “Bennie will be here shortly.”
They had to be killed. I would have to toss a grenade where they stood, letting the explosion eliminate the threat they posed. The faces of the men I had killed the day before, gruesome and grisly and disfigured and destroyed, had haunted me ever since. But if killing two more of the enemy got me back to London, if those deaths saved Lady Jane, then that’s what I had to do. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill me. Or her. And I had to protect her.
“Wait here,” I whispered.
I moved through the brush, crawling when I had to, sliding on my stomach when the vegetation was scant, and slowly made my way towards the shack. In the distance, I could hear more rifle shots, but now the tone was different.
It was a Japanese machine gun firing into the island’s vegetation. There were distant explosions, the grenades thrown by Sir Gregory and Thomas to mimic an attack, but they were dwarfed by a louder blast. The Japanese ship was firing on the shore, using the canons that sat on its deck.
Bennie’s fishing trawler appeared at the edge of the harbor, still rolling on the waves but destined for the cove and guided by the lights that lit the wharf. I continued crawling towards the shack, warily watching the men I was about to kill.
The two sailors hid behind the building, watching the landscape, anticipating an attack. They weren’t focused on the sea. They hadn’t noticed the looming shadow approaching on the ocean.
I kept moving closer until I could see their faces. I saw fear, anxiety, courage, and conviction. They would fight to the death. There was no doubt, but that’s what soldiers do.
I pulled the pin on the grenade. My heart was in my throat, thumping wildly. I said a prayer, asking for forgiveness. Then I lobbed the grenade towards the shack.
The explosion was much louder than the distant blasts from the south side of the island. It made my ears ring, and a gray smoke hid where it had landed. I crawled forward, moving closer, holding the second grenade in my hand, ready to pull the pin if needed.
When the smoke cleared, a corner of the shack was destroyed. The roof hung haphazardly where the support post had been. Splinters of timber were strewn about the edge of the dock, broken crates and metal containers of food lay scattered about. The two sailors lay prone.
I stood and walked towards them. A sailor was groaning. I hung the grenade on my belt and took Lady Jane’s pistol from my pocket. I disarmed the safety catch.
The sailor was moving, attempting to sit upright. I saw the barrel of his rifle, his finger poised around the trigger.
I dove for the ground as the shot fired. I could feel the breeze as the bullet whistled past me. I rolled away from the enemy and aimed the pistol. I waited, knowing the dying wish of the sailor was to take me with him.
As soon as I saw movement, I fired, one shot, clean and precise. I remained on my stomach, elbows balanced on the ground, both hands holding the pistol.
I didn’t know if I’d hit him. I waited, patient and determined. I studied the shadows. There was no movement. Slowly, I rose.
I walked towards them, my pistol ready. Both sailors lay on their backs where the blast had thrown them. The one closest to the shack was dead. The second soldier lay beside him. There was a bullet hole in his forehead just above the right eye.
I sighed with relief and relaxed, letting my arms fall to my sides, easing my grip on the pistol. I turned away from the bodies. I didn’t want to see any more.
As I walked towards our hideaway, Lady Jane rose to greet me.
“Nothing would have been worse than if something had happened to you,” she said softly.
She hugged me tightly, willing away the fatigue and doubt, shame and shock. I wanted to stay in her arms forever.
She raised her head, her lips near mine, and kissed me. She buried her face in my shoulder. I kissed her neck and cheeks and eyelashes, and then her lips. My hands stroked her hair and then roamed over her shoulders down the length of her back.
“Jane,” a voice called. “Jane, where are you?”
We separated abruptly, breathing heavily. She looked at me and smiled.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I pulled her towards me and kissed her again. She lingered a moment and then broke away.
“Gregory,” she called. “We’re here.”
Sir Gregory and Thomas emerged from the vegetation. Their clothes were torn, their bodies smudged with dirt. They were tired and breathless but unhurt.
“Bennie’s boat is coming now,” I said as they approached.
“We have to hurry,” Thomas said. “The patrol boat is returning. We raced through the jungle to get here before them.”
We moved to the wharf, waving our arms, signaling to Bennie that he had the right location. The boat came closer, sliding up to the dock. Bennie threw a lanyard off the deck, and Thomas pulled it over a post, keeping the boat steady while we boarded.
“Are we happy to see you,” Thomas called.
“I’m glad I could help,” Bennie said. “Where are the Japanese? I saw the flag on top of the mountain.”
“They’re on their way,” Sir Gregory said. “Hurry up, and get out of here.”
CHAPTER 50
Bennie’s fishing boat skimmed across the waves, the island shrinking in the distance. We sped due east, never encountered the Japanese patrol boat, and passed along the island of Salura before turning south, headed for Darwin, Australia. We sat in the kitchen and spent a few hours relating our adventures to Bennie.
“We have to go back and get Van der Meer,” Bennie said.
“We will,” Thomas assured him. “Let’s get everyone to Australia first.”
Bennie’s tone and facial expression did not lend to compromise, and I expected him to turn the boat around and head for Java. There wouldn’t be the slightest hesitation.
“He needs more time to recuperate,” Thomas insisted. “We can go to Darwin. Then we’ll go back and get him”
I lay on the deck that evening, awake long after the others had fallen asleep. I was haunted by images of the men I had killed, their faces cringing in pain, their bodies maimed and disfigured. Even though I proved myself worthy of the armed forces that had rejected me, that validation came with a tremendous emotional burden, and it taught me much about myself. I wasn’t a killer; I’d never be a battle-hardened veteran, thirsty for the next victory. I took no pleasure in watching the life drain from someone’s body, enemy or not. If I never did it again, I’
d be a better person for it.
As the minutes passed, changing to hours, I realized God had forgiven me, but I had to forgive myself. I had killed to survive just as men had done throughout history. I had done what I’d had to do, and I had protected Lady Jane. I had to lock those memories, the haunting visions of death, in a separate mental compartment, like the tiny, little-used drawer in a roll top desk. I had to erase the sight of their faces, the thoughts of their families, the imagined promise of lives they would never live. I had to let it go.
I rolled over on my back, staring at the sky and listening to the water lapping at the boat. The ability to forgive isn’t selective; it applies universally. If I forgave myself for killing Japanese soldiers, I must forgive myself for falling asleep on an English road in the wee hours of the morning and letting Maggie die. It was the only way I would ever heal.
I thought of all that had gone wrong that day. We had left London later than planned; I was delayed at the office due to a breaking story. We should have waited until morning. When I got tired I should have stopped, maybe walked for a bit to wake up or slept for a few hours, or awakened Maggie and let her drive.
We were almost there when the crash occurred, just a few miles from our destination, and I had relived that night in my mind every day since. There were a thousand things I could have done differently. But I hadn’t. I’d kept going. And because I had, Maggie had died. Again, a few precious minutes defined life, when the rest ticked by unnoticed.
It’s hard to make sense of tragedy. Why did she die when I was barely injured? I would never know. But somehow, I knew I had to forgive and forget, and live the rest of my life, not as a shadow, but as a man. If I didn’t, my survival would be wasted.
Sometimes I thought Maggie died because she was better prepared. Her soul was pure, her laugh genuine, her heart large enough to hold the universe and all of those in it. Maggie was ready; she was deserving. I was not. As I finally drifted off to sleep, I realized that everything would be all right. God had just needed another angel, and Maggie was the perfect choice.
When we awoke the next morning, we were far from the islands of the Dutch East Indies, traveling in a southeasterly direction. We expected to reach Darwin in another day, and although we now faced the most daring part of the sea voyage, braving the ocean with no sight of land, it paled when compared to our adventures of the last few weeks.
“When we get to Darwin, I’ll contact my friend in Perth,” Sir Gregory said. “He’ll help arrange our return to India. Your family will be thrilled to see you.”
“I’m sure they will,” Lady Jane said with a bit of annoyance. “But I think we’ve discussed this in detail the last few days. Remember our conversation on the ship? And at the pond?”
He ignored her like a parent tired of denying a child. I’m not sure why. I wondered if she really would return to India with him. It didn’t seem likely. Somehow I couldn’t imagine her stepping back in time, embracing the structured existence she had discarded. But maybe that’s what she wanted. Maybe it was easier than an uncertain future.
Their interaction confused me. I had thought, given her recent behavior and our intimate moments, that we might share a future. But maybe we only shared a past.
It was near dusk with only twelve hours of our journey remaining when we heard the short wave radio. It was hidden alongside the engine, tucked in a compartment that appeared to be an auxiliary component. It was easy to miss. I had spent several days on board during the journey to Sumatra. I never knew it existed.
“Java Three, Java Three come in.”
Bennie pulled a chair up to the radio and turned the dials.
“Java Three, Java Three come in.”
“This is Java Three, come in,” Bennie said.
“Java Three, this is Java One.”
“It’s Van der Meer!” Thomas hollered.
We all cheered, thrilled that he was all right. I marveled at the man’s resilience. We had left him near dead only a few days ago. Now he called us on a radio.
“Java One, it’s great to hear from you! I am with Java Two.”
“Java Two, I was worried about you.”
“Not nearly as worried as I was about you,” Thomas said.
“State location,” Van der Meer continued.
“Twelve hours from Darwin. Do you need pick- up?”
“Affirmative. Can be in Pamekasan in four days. Can you?”
Bennie looked at Thomas, who nodded. “Affirmative. Pick up in four days in Pamekasan.”
“Affirmative. Over and out.”
“How did he ever get to a radio in the countryside?”
I asked.
Thomas shrugged. “I have no idea. And he’ll probably never tell.”
“He was so badly injured,” Lady Jane said. “Can he get to Pamekasan in four days?
Bennie nodded. “If anyone can, it’s Van der Meer.” At dawn the next morning, we saw the Australian coast, fringes of green meeting white sandy beaches that stretched into the horizon. We watched as land approached and buildings, rooftops, church steeples, a water tower, and a railroad terminal became visible. Along the waterfront, ships of varying sizes sat at anchor: freighters, sailboats, ships from the Australian navy, tugboats, and a tanker. We watched with excitement, eagerly awaiting civilization unspoiled by the enemy.
Bennie guided the trawler into port, steering towards a deserted dock on the eastern edge of the city. The slender pier, which was adjacent to brick warehouses and a set of overhead cranes, stretched out to sea some two hundred feet.
The boat was secured to the dock. We gathered our belongings, just a ragged bag for each of us, and walked to the edge of the deck. Sir Gregory and I helped Lady Jane step onto the wharf. I piled our belongings on the walkway as Thomas handed them down from the vessel.
"This is where we part company, my friend," Thomas said. “Bennie and I are returning to Pamekasan to get Van der Meer.”
“To start your spy ring again,” Sir Gregory said.
“It’s want we want to do,” Thomas replied. “It’s our contribution to the war effort.” He looked at us sadly. “And it’s revenge for Shanghai. It makes me feel like they didn’t die in vain, that something that benefits the whole world will result from their deaths.”
We were silent for a moment, out of respect.
“I think you’re an amazing man,” Lady Jane said softly. “And I can’t think of a more prestigious profession than spying for your country. Or a more exciting occupation.”
He would never forgive the Japanese, but he was turning his loss into something positive. I should do the same, maybe something for Maggie’s memory when I returned to London. It would help me move on.
“You’re an unknown hero,” I said. “And the world applauds you.” I thought for a moment, asking the question I’d always wanted answered. “How do spies support such luxurious lifestyles? Isn’t it volunteer work?”
“It is,” he said. “But I used to be a banker. And I know a lot about banks.” He grinned. “So now I rob them.”
We were stunned, both from the sheer act and the ease with which he revealed it. There was a pause while everyone uncomfortably digested the information. We’d known there was something different about him. We just hadn’t expected anything so astonishing.
“You rob banks?” Sir Gregory asked incredulously.
He nodded and shrugged. “Just when we need money. It’s nothing personal.”
"The banks that were robbed in Singapore and Batavia," I said. "That was you?"
“Yes, it was. Pamekasan also. That’s why I left the cottage in the middle of the night."
At first his revelation sickened me. I would never have guessed he was a thief. But he had his reasons, and it wasn’t my role to judge him.
Lady Jane wasn’t surprised; it seemed she already knew his secret. It made me wonder what else she knew.
“That’s certainly a unique talent,” Sir Gregory said haltingly. “Not admirable but unique.
”
I knew Thomas was far from perfect, but I wondered what drove an international financier to rob banks. Why didn’t he use his expertise to earn money instead? And how did that tie to revenge of his murdered family? It didn’t. He probably subconsciously blamed the bank who’d sent him to Shanghai as well as the Japanese. I didn’t know and didn’t ask.
"We're ready, Thomas," Bennie called. “We’ve loaded petrol and supplies.”
"Goodbye, my friend,” Thomas said.
I noticed that, although he spoke to me, his eyes were directed at Lady Jane.
"Start the engines," Bennie said to the young lads. Lady Jane looked at Thomas. "Wait!"
He held out his hand. She grasped it, and climbed on deck.
"I would love to be a spy," she said. “And I miss Van der Meer.”
Sir Gregory gasped. "Jane, are you crazy? What are you doing?"
"I’m sorry, Gregory," she said.
"This is outrageous!" he exclaimed. "Jane, come to your senses! You just have an absurd infatuation."
“No, Gregory, I don’t,” she said. “It’s about freedom, like a bird flying from its cage. I want to choose where I go and with whom. I don’t want the decision made for me. We discussed this in Batavia. And then we discussed it on the ship. And we discussed it again on the island. We’re much better off as friends. I’m not the little girl you fell in love with. I grew up. You fell in love with what you wanted me to be. Not with who I am.”
He sighed, her explanation, which had apparently been provided several times, finally absorbed. “You won’t consider coming back to India?” he asked, knowing the answer before he posed the question.
I watched their conversation, my heart heavy; a sick feeling welled in the pit of my stomach. So she had chosen Thomas. I wondered when I had lost her. Was it in Singapore, in Sumatra during Sir Gregory’s rescue, when she fell out of the train, in Pamekasan, or maybe on the rowboat? Was it before or after our kiss on the island? Maybe it was recent, on the voyage to Darwin. At what point had she decided that she loved Thomas? I would probably never know.
To Parts Unknown Page 30