He decided to impress her with his efforts at work. “You know, I am now in charge of an enterprise many times the size of my father’s shops…and then I had to go to the Colonel’s office for a signature… I understand that he’s a very important man, but he kept me waiting for 45 minutes.”
She sympathized with him, spending her days organizing paperwork for people who couldn’t be bothered to pick up after themselves. “They treat me like a maid. I spent the whole day copying over notes that were scribbled on the backs of envelopes.”
“Anyway, the colonel apologized for holding up the paperwork.” He paused and smiled. “I have a lot to do.”
Late nights found them on the beaches, in quiet secluded spaces where they could spend a few hours wrapped in each other’s arms. On Thursday evening at dinner, he ordered champagne – warm fizzy drink, but pretty in the sunset. “I was thinking about, you know, the future.” Out of his pocket he pulled the little ring box, the one that had been in his belongings for the past three years. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to propose, but would you marry me after the war?”
Naomi took the ring. The tiny diamond lit in the sunset, and she put her arms around his neck.
***
On Saturday night she explained that the next day she would be going out with a few girlfriends, other island girls she had known since childhood. Her diamond gleamed in the torch lit café. He marveled at the bounties of the earth, this island, and his fiancée. His fortune had definitely improved.
“Go and enjoy some girl talk. Are you going to show off your ring?”
She laughed gently. “Well, I’m certainly not going to take it off. I may tease them and wait for it to be noticed.”
Her Sunday morning walk out of town led her to the meeting place with Jules Chemin, an abandoned church. They sat down on the stone wall. A few birds and rodents pecked at odd bugs and crumbs that had been left by previous visitors.
She asked, “Have you found Henri yet?”
Jules Chemin remained silent. The trail had left off in a message that a Japanese barge was going to pick Henri up. “Oh, he’ll turn up. He might just be out on a hunting trip.” He halted his lie. “How is it going with your Dutch boyfriend?”
Naomi did not say a word. Instead she moved her left hand over onto his leg.
“So, you seduced him?” She groaned, and he noticed the little diamond. “What’s that?”
“It’s an engagement ring.”
“Are you marrying this man?”
A broad teasing smile broke the silence. “You know, if I do marry him, he will take care of me. At least I wouldn’t end up like the girls on the beach, or like some fat plantation mistress with a bunch of kids to take care of.” Then she laughed at Jules. “There are no solid plans, but I’m his fiancée now and we can learn a lot about each other. For instance, we had dinner every night this week, and he told me about what supplies he counted. Every damn night. I worked all day and listened to more work for hours in the evenings.”
“And what do you tell him?”
“Anything I can make up. Actually, I’m getting a lot of ‘swell’ American merchandise delivered to our offices now. He sends me anything I ask for, as long as the paperwork is filled out and signed by my boss.”
“Speaking of that, what have you learned in your new job? Are the ‘Free French’ treating you well?”
“They squabble with the Americans a lot, don’t they?”
“What do you mean?”
She rolled her eyes. “There seems to be a lot of contention. Sometimes they argue like schoolchildren. They even argue about the size of their barracks and who has more living space.”
Jules stared at her as if she were a child. “The Americans are intruders. They need to just do their job and then leave. They do not need living spaces. We don’t intend for them to settle here.”
She was astounded by his ignorance. “Do you read the newspapers, the French ones? Vergès writes several articles about how our leaders have sold the island to the Americans. These common American soldiers act as if they were entitled to a colony.”
Her expression metamorphosed into the stern and relentless countenance of an angry nun staring down at the infractions of schoolboys. She had learned well in the convent school.
Jules paused. “I like this.”
“You like what?”
“I like this idea of the Allies not being so allied.”
Naomi pondered his remarks. “The soldiers may be rogues, but my impression is that the Americans are very efficient. This war machine is huge, not that I even care. All Hank talks about are numbers.”
Jules’eyes widened. “Interesting, non?” Naomi’s boring fiancé had more to share than merchandise. She needed to hang onto him, but not to care too deeply.
“The Americans are invaders trespassing on the lands of French farmers. They bring military weapons on hunting trips, claiming that they will shoot the wild deer that are eating crops and then they ‘accidentally’ shoot a farmer’s prized bull. They are treating us as if we were the hosts at a big barbeque. But I am intrigued by the idea of conflict between Governor Laigret and the American military. America is just a bunch of colonies itself.”
He lit a cigarette, and then offered her one. She shook her head. “We got you a job to find things out. Try to remember some of those numbers. Get your fiancé to help us find Henri. Surely you can ask him some questions, yes?”
Chemin began to twist his hands and pulled off an elaborate ring, Imperial Jade with two golden dragons twisted around the bezel. “You need to give him a ring too, now that you are ‘engaged.’ We need to give him gifts that obligate him to us. I know you can’t afford a nice ring on what I pay you. Take this one. Just bring it back when you return that diamond to him.”
“Two dragons – how nice for two spies.”
At dinner the next night she reached beneath the table, and tugged at her silk stocking. Hank stared at her and she laughed. “No, I am not disrobing! I have a surprise for you.” She turned aside, undoing her garter and pulling out a tiny silk packet. “Close your eyes and open your hands.” The gold ring with the two dragons was placed in his left hand. “It is our custom for the man also to wear a ring. This one was my father’s, but it is a very good piece of jade. And tonight we are the two dragons swimming in the sea under a sky of fire.” He looked up at the red sunset and slipped on the ring.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Debriefing
July 1943
“Before Guadalcanal the enemy advanced at his pleasure – after Guadalcanal he retreated at ours.” ~ Admiral Halsey
People were disappearing, but there was no magic show. The fatal will of the Japanese claimed the lives of thousands in battle as campaigns to liberate the Salomon Islands consumed ships and men. Day after day, missions would return with incomplete cadres. Meanwhile, Hank continued to process orders for necessities. Some 200 Quonset huts were full of supplies to keep everything going – crates of paper here, ointments and bandages there, and always food for the mess.
“Burns, the captain needs to see you.” Hank did not look up at the soldier. Instead, he carefully inked in a couple of numbers in the ledger, and then set his pen aside. There was no indication of what was needed as he followed the corporal down the corridor of partitions to the enclosed offices.
The captain had a visitor, a civilian. Hank entered the tight space and stood at attention. “At ease, Burns. Take a seat. I want you to meet Ted Knight. He works in Shanghai and wanted to get away to the islands for a few days. I think you know the territory as well as anyone, so you are to take him around, show him the lay of the land.” Hank looked very confused. He wasn’t going on leave, but he was supposed to drop his work and be a tour guide for three days? Who was Ted? A politician? A prospective governor?
Captain Mark Mitchell saw his confusion.
“Ted is with the OSS, Office of Strategic Services. It’s a brand new unit, okay, a brand new bureaucracy, because they think we need help figuring things out. Washington wants them to talk to our guys, and has sent him down here to take a peek. I want you to tell him about your adventures in the whorehouse.” Hank looked like he had been smacked with a fish. “And the ‘Dutch consul’ out there in the jungle. Can you close up your books by midday, and then get the hell out of here? Lose the uniform, but keep your ID in a safe place. We’ll have a jeep ready for you.”
Hank was puzzled and a little frustrated. He had laid out his day’s work and would have to rearrange his tasks. Hopefully, the Captain who assigned this excursion would remember why all the ledgers were not completely up to date. There would be even more work to do when he got back. He shook his head, staring at the neat stacks of orders and invoices on his desk, and picked up the telephone.
“Offices of the Governor.”
“Naomi, it’s Hank. … No, I’m well, but they are sending me out for a few days.”
He drummed his fingers on the desktop while his curious fiancée asked questions.
“No, I don’t think it will be particularly dangerous, other than the usual hazards.” He didn’t want her to worry about him going into combat and never coming back. “Actually it’s a visitor from Shanghai, and I’m supposed to drive him around to meet plantation people.” A silence on the other end of the line let him know that his visitor was not welcome. “No, I don’t know what he sells, but I’m sure I’ll learn. I’m going to miss you doll, but yes, I’ll call when I can.” He paused, reflecting for a moment on still one more acquaintance who had not returned from battle.
Ted Knight wasn’t like the soldiers at all, and Hank was tired of their constant pranks and fighting anyway. Knight had been educated at Columbia and was a practicing attorney in Syracuse, New York before the war. He had actually attended Lyceé in Strasbourg and spoke excellent French and pretty good German. The OSS was a new division of Counter Intelligence, and foreign languages were a part of the screening process. Hank stretched out his arms and stood as tall as possible. “Why haven’t you guys been out here before? We have rats everywhere. I even found one or two myself.”
Ted started to talk. “You know we are from separate divisions, right? The OSS is excluded from operating in the South Pacific. They have put us up in Shanghai, and no one speaks Chinese. Who knows what those buggers are thinking? Half our people can’t tell a Chinaman from a Jap, or a Jap from a Korean.” Hank couldn’t tell the difference either, and was shocked to learn that some Korean spies went to great lengths to disguise themselves as Japanese.
Hank was aware of why the two organizations were not sharing information. Halsey’s people were collecting their own intelligence and Halsey did not trust the mix of Ivy leaguers with no fighting experience and all kinds of odd political views. Full on spies were different characters. Ted was a nice guy, but one with a New York edge. They talked casually about Hank’s interest as a photographer and Ted suggested that they bring cameras along on their outing so that Hank could show him a few things.
There were still French girls picking up sailors on the beach. However, the pink “hotel” on Avenue Fontaine had changed owners. “That’s the house. I still see some of the girls on the beach, but Tutau paid heavily for that ledger. I have no idea if she knew what she was doing, but hopefully Madame is enjoying a comfortable retirement somewhere. Depends on how she answered the questions. They probably still collect some information.”
“Hey, I’m thirsty, wanna get a beer? I’ll bet that place is Coney Island upstairs and downstairs.”
Hank looked at Knight as if he were possibly suffering from sunstroke. “The bouncers have changed and, of course, we are holding Chemin in the brig. If I went in there, I’m afraid I…would not be welcome.”
“Yeah, I guess you would have to be Harry Houdini to get out in one piece. Say, let’s swing out to the beach and take some pictures of scenery, at least the landscape we haven’t dug up for airstrips.” The road above town led to spectacular views of the harbor. There was not even a cloud or haze to obstruct the view of what was being loaded, unloaded or deployed from the area. “What a place for an enemy coast watcher to collect information.”
Hank looked across at Ted Knight. “Yes, it’s a good harbor, but not everyone wants us here. Most of the plantation people don’t care who wins.”
Knight examined the scene. “Reminds me of my last assignment to Indochina. The French are a real mess, aren’t they? They want us to support some guy, Ho Chi-Minh, in some cockamamie liberation thing. Not even sure what liberation the Viet Minh are looking for – Japanese? French? It’s a wonder that anyone can collaborate in this puzzle box.”
Hank was astounded. Halsey’s doubts about the OSS had just been confirmed in thirty seconds. These guys had no loyalties. They were smart, but they could make more problems than they solved. Thank God he worked where there was at least a chain of command, and where everyone had a tidy job to do. As sunset drew close, they headed back into town.
“So, what about a couple girls for us? You married yet?” Knight was certainly blunt. Hank had photographed hundreds of women, and not even gotten to know their names. He knew them as objects of beauty. Naomi was his first real companion and he was not about to drag her along on some soldier’s adventure. He would tell Knight about Naomi once they settled down to dinner. Knight caught the light as Hank’s gold ring flashed in the orange of the sunset.
Knight ordered two gins. He pushed one across to Hank. “Here’s a good Dutch shot. Drink up, buddy. I’m afraid we don’t have any herring out here to wash it down. Not sure that raw tilapia would quite cut it.” Hank sniffed the gin, then tipped it back. Straight gin, or Genever, snorts back, right through the nose, unifying all the senses into one feeling of breathless existence. It had been a great day. Perhaps tomorrow he could requisition some color film for the two of them to get pictures out in the islands.
“So, you didn’t answer. Can we get a couple girls tonight, or are we batching it? Shall we go to the officer’s club and find a couple nurses?”
Hank blanched. “The officer’s club?”
“Yeah, I can get us in.”
“So you entered the OSS as an officer?”
“Sure, most of us have college degrees, more than one usually. So, do you have a girl?”
“I’m engaged. We will be marrying as soon as the war is over. She works for the French governor.”
“Is she French?”
“Well, her mother was half French. She’s actually mixed, but a beautiful girl.”
“You’re a lucky man. Sounds like she is smart too.”
“Yes, she was raised by the nuns, but she also is very well connected to the wealthy planters. I’m sure lucky that she didn’t choose one of them.” Hank proudly showed off the Imperial Jade.
“So is that your engagement ring?” The light in the café was dimmer, but it highlighted the beautifully carved golden dragons on each side of the stone. Knight was staring intently at the ring so Hank pulled it off to let Knight admire the work.
The OSS agent turned the ring over and over in his hands, held it up to the light, and ran his thumbnail around the heavily carved dragons. Apparently the man was some sort of connoisseur, an odd hobby. Knight handed back the ring. He was familiar with gold work, and had recognized the inprimé of an Indochinese goldsmith. “Your fiancée Tonkinese?”
Hank looked puzzled, “I don’t think so, but I only know that she is half European. Why?”
Knight commented. “It’s very beautiful. What a precious engagement gift.” But his mental landscape had changed completely. This ring could not possibly have been purchased on a secretary’s salary. He had checked it for any working parts. The button on his own jacket concealed a tiny compass, and God knows what the Japs put into rings these days. It looked clean but i
t was too new to be an heirloom and too expensive to be from the girl. Someone had given it to her, but why? He needed names, places and information and he had to get them carefully. Hank was not stupid.
Knight’s ingenuous smile alternated with a wistful glance. “I don’t have a serious girlfriend now. I was dating someone in New York, but she moved on. Life in China didn’t appeal to her. There aren’t a lot of American women in Shanghai, and I’m not really comfortable with foreigners. Too many twisted trails. So what’s her name?”
“Whose name?”
“Your fiancée?”
“Naomi. She works for Governor Laigret and I met her at a Javanese Club banquet. She is part Javanese, but she is very tall. She was raised in a convent, so I don’t know her parents.” Somehow the tale of a dead mother and a father who rejected a little girl were just too delicate to share with a stranger. “I wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, but when we were introduced, I knew she was the one.”
“I know what you mean. Maybe I should be like you and look around a little more. I just never considered getting involved with a native. I was afraid of what I might find – or of what she might discover.”
Hank looked down at his plate of fried fish and rice. His appetite was gone. He wasn’t in the mood to counsel some lonely outsider and he didn’t want to talk about Naomi.
Meanwhile, Knight stopped eating. He looked at his plate and moved his food back and forth with a knife and fork, lost in thought. He sat up in his chair in an effort to relieve the knot in his gut. This was serious. God, if the Vichy or Japs had their rats infiltrating all over this island, this would be one long damned war. He pushed his plate away.
Hank was tongue-tied. He didn’t want to talk any more.
“You’re looking a little fatigued buddy. The sun and the gin get to you?”
“I’m OK … “
Knight took the lead. “Let’s call it an early night. And sleep in tomorrow morning. Shall we say a 10:00 pick up?” As soon as Burns dropped him off at his lodging, Knight went to work as a rat-catcher.
Islands of Deception Page 25