by Peter Watt
Matthew was escorted to the settlement where he was met by a party of long-bearded men who greeted him solemnly in a language he did not understand.
‘They say you are sent from God,’ the Russian man said. ‘We do not know why you land here but Saul will tell us when he returns.’
Matthew guessed the older men with the long beards were probably rabbis and if he was God’s answer he wondered what the problem was.
Matthew was escorted to Saul’s house where he was welcomed warmly by Saul’s wife and youngest son. He was given a good meal and, just after sunset, Saul arrived with Joanne.
‘Good to see that you landed safely,’ Saul said by way of greeting, brushing the dust from his clothes and being chided by his wife for littering her clean floors with half the Sinai desert at the same time. But her eyes were full of relief and love at his return.
Matthew glanced at Joanne, who returned his look with a warm expression. ‘Saul is not the only one who is pleased to see that you did not crash this time,’ she said.
‘I was shot down,’ Matthew growled, falling for her mischief. ‘Maybe later on you might be truthful with me and tell me who the hell you really are.’
‘I am an archaeologist. That is the truth – well, most of it.’
Matthew nodded. ‘And who are you really working for – us, or your government.’
‘Possibly both,’ Joanne answered with a mysterious smile. ‘You can be assured that your diversion from your mission with your Flying Corps will be fully sanctioned in London – as soon as I am able to make contact with the War Office.’
This did not make Matthew feel any easier at not returning to his base.
‘Elsa has fed you,’ Saul said, noting the bread still on the table. ‘Miss Barrington and I will eat now while we discuss why God has sent you to us.’
Matthew sat down as Elsa served up a chicken stew.
‘Elsa is also a crack shot with a rifle,’ Saul said, devouring a piece of bread dipped in the juices of the delicious, herb-flavoured stew. ‘She should be. I trained her when I first came here and she has killed many Arabs.’
Matthew thanked Elsa when she poured a glass of rich red wine for himself and the others. The fact that Elsa was a very attractive woman, with a flair for cooking and killing, had not informed Matthew why he was needed.
‘To luck!’ Saul said, raising his glass. ‘Here is to you and I fighting together again – like we did back in Africa.’
Matthew glanced at Joanne who had also raised her glass silently. ‘So, what are you two up to?’ he finally asked.
‘The Ottoman army is retreating towards Jerusalem,’ Saul said, wiping gravy from his chin with the back of his hand. ‘The Arab village nearest us has, over the years, alternated between friendship and hostility, depending on who they listen to from outside. Intelligence from Lawrence’s men has informed us that they have been able to obtain a German field gun with a plentiful supply of shells, as well as a number of Maxim machine guns. They intend to use it against us and wipe us out – every man, woman and child. We need you to deliver that big bomb you carry on your aeroplane down the barrel of their artillery piece.’
Matthew shook his head in disbelief. ‘You cannot tell me that London would sanction me getting involved in a tribal fight between you and the Arabs,’ he said. ‘My squadron has probably already listed me as MIA again, to say nothing of the ramifications of going off on a mad mission to help you – as much as I would like to.’
‘It is not only Saul and his people who you would be working for,’ Joanne cut in quietly. ‘We also have good information that the Arab village is currently harbouring a religious fanatic who has returned from Berlin to convince the Arabs to turn on the British and Lawrence’s nationalist army. We would rather see him taken out of the picture.’
‘We?’ Matthew asked, frowning at Joanne. ‘The British government? But you are an American citizen. How much do you trust this Lawrence chap?’
‘I met Mr Lawrence in Cairo and we share a love of Biblical archaeology. I got to know him through our conversations concerning sites that we had worked before the war. He may be a somewhat odd man but he is devoted to the Arab nationalist cause. I trust his intelligence, as does London. Very soon, my country will be in this war on the side of Britain and her allies,’ Joanne continued. ‘I suppose you could describe me as a liaison officer between the British and my country. In my position as an archaeologist specialising in the Biblical lands, I was very well placed to move between settlements, as was Mr Lawrence before the war. I have had access to the highest Ottoman circles in Constantinople because I was neutral – and because of my father’s financial influence in this part of the world. But, with our entry into the war looming, I am restricted in my movement. Saul has been assigned to provide me with a base and help me in my mission.’
‘Are you working for the bloody Poms too?’ Matthew exclaimed, looking at his old army comrade.
Saul grinned sadly. ‘I had little choice,’ he sighed. ‘You could say my unauthorised leave of absence from our post at Elands River eventually caught up with me. But the Poms were very accommodating when it came to finding a solution. So, there it is.’
‘It is very important that the man we wish to silence is killed rather than captured,’ Joanne said. ‘I have the authority to make that decision.’
‘From whom?’ Matthew growled. ‘King George?’
‘No, Winston Churchill,’ Joanne retorted defiantly. ‘Lord Balfour has compiled a report to create a Zionist state when the war is over. Winnie has a deep interest in this part of the world and the matter of an Arab agitator attempting to turn the local people against the Allied cause is not in Britain’s interests. My mandate was to collect information and, if possible, act on that intelligence. To do so will help both Saul and the war effort.’
‘You do realise that I am putting both my career as a pilot with the AFC and my very life in your hands,’ Matthew said to Joanne. ‘I must truly love you to do that.’
Joanne leaned across the table and took both his hands in her own. ‘When this is all over I want you to meet my father,’ she said. ‘He despises Papists.’
Matthew broke into a chuckle. Here was the strong-willed daughter who was out to defy her father just to prove that she could do so. Hopefully he and Joanne would never have a daughter together. She might just turn out to be like her mother. ‘Well,’ Matthew relented. ‘I am on board. What is the plan?’
Saul looked relieved, stood up and retrieved a map sketched by his scouts. He placed it on the table before launching into a briefing outlining Matthew’s role as well as explaining how he and his men would launch an assault on the Arab village. As Matthew listened, occasionally asking questions on logistics, he experienced a sense of dread. Why did he feel something was bound to go wrong?
That night Matthew did not sleep well. From what Saul had told him, the Arab village was heavily defended. The war between the two settlements had waged for as long as Saul had lived in Palestine, and with the rise of Arab nationalism the small Jewish population was in danger of being eliminated – every man, woman and child.
Despite assuring Joanne he trusted that she would sort out his new mission with his superiors in the AFC, Matthew could not help but harbour a small doubt. Just exactly who she was continued to puzzle him. He now knew that she worked as a spy and he certainly admired her courage working virtually alone in these dangerous lands. But still she had not really explained her motivation to risk her life when she was the heiress to a fortune and would inherit all the trappings that went with that.
Matthew listened to the silence of the settlement at sleep. When the door to his room creaked, instinctively, he grasped his pistol.
‘I can’t sleep,’ he heard Joanne say in a whisper. ‘I would like to lie beside you.’
Surprised, Matthew moved over in the narrow, single bed to allow her to settle beside him. She was wearing little else than a silk slip and Matthew was aware of her flesh under
neath when he placed his arms around her.
‘I am armed, so don’t get any ideas, Captain Duffy,’ she said softly with a hint of teasing in her voice, her back to him.
‘I am an officer and a gentleman,’ Matthew said lightly. ‘But you have to be careful of your choice of words when you make a request like wanting to lie with me,’ he continued. ‘If I remember my few forays into the Bible, over here that means a lot more.’
Joanne laughed, attempting to stifle her mirth. ‘I couldn’t sleep thinking about what is ahead in the morning,’ she said. ‘I wonder if I should not have stopped you from volunteering your services in this mission when it has so little to do with you. It has only been in the last few hours that it has dawned on me that you could be killed.’
‘That fear has been with me ever since we got into this war,’ Matthew said, reassuring her. ‘So, do not feel any guilt if anything goes wrong.’
‘Saul has told me that when you were only a boy you lied about your age and went off to fight in South Africa,’ Joanne said. ‘He said that you and he were separated at some place called Elands River.’
‘Like a lot of my life, I would rather not talk about it,’ Matthew sighed. ‘It seems like a lifetime ago. What I would rather know is why you are risking your life in this damned cruel land when you could be at home going to parties and balls.’
‘Oh, I could not explain fully in one night,’ Joanne said quietly. ‘But I guess it is just part of who I am. I seek the adventure normally denied to my sex unless we are independent enough to grasp it ourselves.’
‘This is not adventure,’ Matthew reminded her. ‘This is a deadly game where you can forfeit your life in a thousand horrific ways.’
‘I know,’ Joanne answered in a soft whisper. ‘It just seems that I have been caught up in a situation that has got out of hand.’
‘You are free to quit and go home any time,’ Matthew suggested.
‘That may have been true until this year,’ Joanne replied. ‘But my country is gearing up for war against the Germans and now, as a patriot, I have little choice.’
Matthew knew that for the moment he had asked enough questions. Joanne wriggled around to face him. ‘Life under these circumstances can be desperately short,’ she said, her mouth so close he could feel her moist breath on his face. ‘Love me, Matthew,’ she said with a passion that could not be mistaken for anything else than the invitation he had dreamed about since first meeting this remarkable woman.
Their night of lovemaking took Matthew to a world he had never experienced before. He had known many women over the years of his travels but they had only been a means of satisfying his lust. Now he was in a world where love and lust came together. It was not until the early hours of the morning that he and Joanne finally fell asleep in each other’s arms. Before he drifted off, Matthew vowed that he would make this woman his wife. To do that he still had to survive this war. Joanne had already lost one flyer in her life and he did not want to be the second.
On the other side of the world, Inspector Jack Firth could also be in trouble if the commissioner learned one of his best men was neglecting the task of counterintelligence in order to pursue an old murder inquiry. Jack had chased down everything he could on the American Randolph Gates, and was sure that he had enlisted in the Australian army. Although the British officer had not been forthcoming with any knowledge of Gates, Jack felt his best bet would be to corner Major Alexander Macintosh, as he knew he and Gates had been friends before the war.
Firth’s investigation brought him to the door of the infantry officer’s headquarters in Sydney to confront the man himself. Alex had just about tidied up all his admin matters in preparation for departing overseas when he was informed by the orderly room clerk that a policeman was asking for him. He asked the clerk to usher the man through, and within moments Jack Firth strode into the room.
‘Major Macintosh, you may remember me from a matter I was investigating before the war,’ Jack said, not bothering to remove his hat. ‘The murder of Guy Wilkes.’
‘Ah, yes, Inspector.’ Alex rose from behind his desk so that he did not have the intimidating policeman standing over him. ‘How can I be of assistance?’
‘I was informed that you have access to all persons enlisting in the army,’ Jack said bluntly. ‘I would like to have a copy.’
‘Inspector, I doubt that is within your jurisdiction,’ Alex answered firmly. ‘I am afraid you would have to produce written authority for me to provide you with that.’
‘Like this?’ Jack asked, retrieving some papers from his pocket and throwing them on Alex’s desk. ‘You can examine them, if you like, but you will see that the authorisation comes from your own HQ command.’
Alex picked up the two sheets of paper and could see the signature of a high-ranking staff officer he knew.
‘You could save us both a lot of time and heartache by telling me where the Yank is,’ Jack said. ‘You know that you have a duty to the law of this state.’
‘I am aware of that,’ Alex snapped. ‘But I also have the responsibility of training the men out there to go to war. I assume you’re referring to Randolph Gates, but I can swear on my commission as an officer that no American by that name has enlisted.’
‘I am not a fool, Major,’ Jack replied. ‘As Gates is wanted for questioning not only concerning the death of a Mr Michael O’Rourke but also in regard to the matter of Mr Guy Wilkes, I expect that he would have signed up under an assumed name – perhaps even as a Canadian citizen to hide his accent. So, the list of all men who have been through your battalion in the last six months, if you please.’
Alex had not expected this. He had told the truth when he said no man by the name of Gates had enlisted. Randolph had put down his citizenship as that of a Canadian. He glared at the policeman on the other side of the desk.
‘Corporal Hardy,’ he called loudly. ‘Fetch me the carbon copy of the battalion roll covering the last six months.’ Alex was satisfied that it would not reveal Randolph’s true identity in the training battalion. Forewarned by John Hughes, Alex had discreetly altered Randolph’s enlistment nationality to Scot.
‘Yes, sir,’ came the reply from the orderly room and within moments the clerk entered the room holding a thick wad of papers in a bound folder. He placed it on the desk.
‘Thank you, Corp,’ Alex said, dismissing his clerk. ‘That will be all.’
The corporal departed, a puzzled expression on his face.
‘I must insist that you sign for the battalion roll, Inspector,’ Alex said, dipping a pen in an ink pot and passing it to the policeman.
‘The copy of the roll will be returned within twenty-four hours,’ Jack said, hefting the book from the table. ‘I expect that your cooperation will continue for the sake of good relations between the police and army.’
Alex did not answer but watched as the detective inspector left his office. When he was sure he was gone Alex bawled down to his clerk to have Private Maurice Green report to him immediately. The clerk hurried off and within a few minutes Randolph reported to the company HQ building where he was ushered into Alex’s office. He saluted smartly.
‘You wish to see me, sir?’ he asked as Alex closed the door.
‘Stand easy, Randolph. We are pretty safe from being overheard here. Take a seat.’
Randolph removed his hat and sat down. ‘You look worried, Alex,’ he said, glancing at the door.
‘We have to cut short your training and get you out of the country,’ Alex said. ‘That copper Inspector Firth is looking for you in relation to the death of some man called Michael O’Rourke, and also wants to talk to you about the death of Wilkes.’
‘You know that I did not kill Wilkes and, as for the other matter, it is best you do not know. But he was the man who killed Nellie.’
‘It should have been me to settle that matter,’ Alex said, turning from the window. ‘But you shouldered the responsibility and now it’s my turn to protect you. I am going to d
raw up orders to put you on a ship leaving tonight with a complement of men going to Egypt. From what I can gather they will be most probably disembarking for deployment to Palestine. I am sorry that you will not be able to serve with the cobbers you have made in training.’
A broad smile crossed Randolph’s face. ‘You could not have done me a greater favour. Matt is somewhere in Palestine and there’s a good chance I will be able to track him down – maybe even get a transfer to his unit.’
‘I had not considered that. Let us hope that you get to catch up with my wild Irish cousin and, when you do, please give him my compliments.’
‘What happens next?’ Randolph asked.
Alex laid out his movement details for embarkation on the troop ship. When all was in order, Alex reminded Randolph to pick up his documents authorising his travel from the orderly room. Randolph rose and Alex extended his hand. ‘Well, old boy, let us hope that we get the opportunity to meet after this war and share a cold beer.’
‘You take care, and if you see Colonel Duffy give him my regards,’ he said, gripping Alex’s hand firmly.
‘I will tell him all that you have done for the family,’ Alex said, stepping back. ‘Just keep your bloody Yank head down.’
‘I will,’ Randolph said, grinning. ‘See you when I see you.’
The American stepped back, replaced his slouch hat and saluted his superior officer with genuine respect. Once Randolph was gone Alex sat down at his desk. Soon, it would be his turn to steam across the Indian Ocean. Would there be a reunion after the war? He was acutely aware of the ever-mounting death-roll of soldiers from all theatres of the war.
The coded papers secured under her corset, Karolina Schumann walked towards the main gate of the internment camp. She was greeted by the corporal of the guard who had become used to her frequent visits. But as Karolina approached him she noticed that this day his greeting was strained. Suddenly she felt a sick feeling in her stomach. To add to her growing concern, the corporal unslung his rifle from his shoulder.