And Fire Falls (28 page)

‘Do I look like James Cagney?’ Tony said with mock hurt. ‘I was a hardworking, honest cop back in New York, although I have to admit that’s not the rule for many of my fellow cops. I . . .’ Tony ceased speaking when he suddenly noticed the almost stricken expression on Jessica’s face. She was staring towards the door.

He turned his head to see a tall, good-looking civilian dressed in an expensive suit, an attractive young woman on his arm. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

‘Yes . . . yes,’ Jessica replied, looking away from the entrance, but Tony could see that her face was flushed.

‘That guy,’ Tony said, ‘do you know him?’

‘He’s just someone I knew many years ago before the war – when I was young and living in Queensland,’ Jessica replied.

‘An old boyfriend?’ Tony said with a frown.

Before she could reply, Donald had spotted her, and the expression of shock on his face reflected the shock Jessica had shown.

The two stared across the room at each other, until Donald was ushered to his table with his escort, Olivia Barrington.

‘Yes, an old boyfriend who I hardly remember,’ Jessica lied, turning her head as a thousand thoughts raced through her mind.

Their meal was served, but the two of them said little as they ate. Tony sensed Jessica’s sombre mood and allowed her her own thoughts. She was pleased when he suggested that they skip dessert and take a walk in Hyde Park.

They returned to the hotel and Jessica bid Tony goodnight with a quick kiss on the cheek.

The following morning Jessica presented herself in uniform at the hotel foyer where she was met by Tony, who appeared not to have had much sleep.

‘Are you up for today’s conference?’ she asked.

‘I’m only tasked to take you to and from the hotel,’ Tony said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. ‘You’ll be sitting in on some committee meetings and will take notes of anything that may relate to our work, Jessie. Our colonel will be there, and you will be his personal assistant.’

‘I’m sorry about last night,’ Jessica said, sensing Tony’s disappointment at how the evening had turned out.

‘Maybe last night doesn’t count as a date,’ Tony said with a weak smile. ‘Maybe we ought to go somewhere where you don’t bump into old boyfriends. Who is he anyway?’

‘Donald Macintosh, one of the directors of a big company in Australia,’ Jessica answered. ‘From what I know, they’re a supplier to your armed forces in the South Pacific.’

‘A lot of money in that,’ Tony said. ‘You seem to mix in high circles, Sergeant Duffy.’

A taxi took them to New South Wales Parliament House, where a heavy contingent of Australian soldiers provided security. Government cars dropped off politicians and public servants, who produced papers for the security checks before entering the building.

‘Good luck,’ Tony said as Jessica stepped out of the taxi and adjusted her tight skirt.

She turned to say something, but the taxi was already pulling out from the kerb. She gripped the small briefcase she had been given in Brisbane and marched smartly to the sentries at the front door. They were Australian military police alongside a few state police officers and they checked her papers. Satisfied, they let her pass, and she stepped inside the building being used for this special meeting. She felt out of place amongst the throng of grey-haired men in suits but was met by one of them, who directed her to a meeting room down one of the corridors. She stepped inside to find the large space filled with polished wooden tables and decorated with portraits of long-past state premiers. Men were standing around in small circles in quiet conversation, some smoking cigarettes or nursing cups of tea. The few Americans were in military uniform and drank coffee.

‘You are Sergeant Duffy?’ a younger man asked. ‘I am the aide assigned the task of identifying everyone at this meeting.’

‘Yes,’ Jessica answered, feeling a little nervous.

‘Come with me,’ he said, taking her elbow and guiding her to the group at the centre of the room. Jessica suddenly experienced a rush of excitement and nerves.

‘The prime minister noticed you arrive,’ the young civil servant said. ‘He would like to meet you.’

Jessica could feel her knees weaken, but forced herself to appear confident. ‘Prime Minister, this is Sergeant Jessica Duffy, who is with General MacArthur’s staff in Brisbane.’

Jessica felt his hand reach out for her own. He was in his middle fifties and wore spectacles. He had a kindly but serious face, and looked more like a schoolteacher than a prime minister. Jessica remembered that he had opposed conscription in the last war, and had been a journalist. She also knew that he had Irish Catholic heritage. Jessica had listened to his voice on the radio, and now he was shaking hands with her.

‘John Curtin,’ he said with a warm smile. ‘It is good to see that we have at least one Australian in General MacArthur’s office.’

‘I am not with the general’s office, I . . .’ Jessica stopped herself. Could she tell the leader of Australia what she actually worked on?

‘I understand, Sergeant Duffy,’ the prime minister said. ‘I know what you do at the AMP building.’

‘Mr Curtin, I cannot tell you what an honour it is to meet you in person,’ Jessica said. ‘You are doing a splendid job.’

‘With an Irish name like Duffy, I would presume that you’re a supporter of my party,’ John Curtin said with a twinkle in his eye. ‘And I would hope that you might be able to have contact with my department in the future.’

‘Sir,’ said the young aide, ‘the delegation representing the private sector has arrived. I would like to introduce them to you.’

The prime minister nodded to Jessica, and excused himself politely, leaving her to weigh every word he had said to her. What had he meant by having contact in the future? She had no time to work it out before she glanced over at the entrance and saw the prime minister shaking hands with Donald Macintosh.

27

I
f Donald was surprised, he didn’t show it this time. He said a few words to the young aide and then walked across to Jessica, who fought to keep her feelings from showing.

‘Good to see you, Jessica,’ Donald said. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine,’ Jessica replied politely. ‘I saw you last night at the hotel dining room. You were with a pretty young lady.’

‘I also saw you and the man you were with looked as if he knew you fairly well,’ Donald countered.

‘He is a work colleague,’ Jessica replied. ‘Nothing more.’

‘You’re obviously no longer a nun,’ Donald said quietly. ‘Why didn’t you wait for me in the foyer of my office earlier this year? I had learned how you just missed being killed in your escape from New Britain. Our island trading enterprises knew all about the evacuations up there.’

Jessica glanced around the room and could see that the small circles of men were preoccupied with their conversations. ‘I don’t think this is the place to talk about that,’ she said. ‘What’s your role here today?’

‘I’m representing a committee overseeing rationing,’ Donald said. ‘What’s more intriguing is that I am under direction to seek out a person who we know is in some top-secret office in Mac’s HQ in Brisbane. I somehow think that is you, Jessie.’

‘Why would that be of interest to you?’ she asked.

‘I suppose I should give you an explanation,’ Donald said. ‘Curtin is not my idea of a prime minister – except under the current conditions I have to admit he is proving exceptional. Otherwise, he is too socialist for the likings of myself, and other business interests. But I was approached by my brother-in-law some weeks ago to act as liaison with an Australian in with the Yanks in a cipher section in Brisbane. I still can’t believe that person is you, Jessie.’

‘Do you expect me to go back on an oath I swore?’ Jessie asked.

‘We do not expect you to reveal anything to the enemy, but the PM would like to have someone inside General Mac’s HQ to monitor the intelligence they are receiving. Curtin has virtually handed over the running of the war to the Yanks under MacArthur, but he is not sure whether they are always being honest with us. It is not really an act of espionage, rather a patriotic task in our national interest.’

‘I don’t have clearance for anything above tactical intelligence,’ Jessica said. ‘Strategic intelligence is sent upstairs to MacArthur’s office under heavy guard. Just talking about this amounts to a breach of the oath I swore.’

‘It’s hard for me to ask you to help us, considering our friendship in the past,’ Donald said. ‘All we wish is for you to inform us if what the Yanks tell us is the same as they know. After all, who do you really represent – us – or the Yanks?’

‘You are asking me to spy on the Americans, who are our valued allies against the Japanese,’ Jessica said. ‘Why were you singled out to approach me?’

‘The PM’s Department felt that as a civilian I am less likely to be connected to the government,’ Donald said. ‘Charles was supposed to act as your contact, but for some obscure reason he has enlisted in the RAAF. I accepted it as my patriotic duty, and of course it doesn’t do any harm to keep in the good favours of the PM. Never in a million years did I imagine I would be working with you. Seeing you last night was shock enough, but to find out today that you are the contact in MacArthur’s headquarters is almost unbelievable. How long are you in Sydney for?’

‘I leave tomorrow morning to return to Brisbane,’ Jessica answered.

‘I was hoping that we could get together, and I might have a better chance to explain the situation to you.’

‘The man you saw me with last night is my military escort,’ Jessica replied. ‘I cannot go anywhere without him. Was the lady on your arm last night your military escort?’ Jessica said with just a touch of sarcasm.

‘She is an American Red Cross nurse I have been seeing,’ Donald answered. ‘She’s a family friend. Her brother is a fighter pilot in the Pacific.’

‘So she is in need of comfort then,’ Jessica said with a wry smile. ‘I understand now.’

‘It was you who broke a promise to me years ago, remember,’ Donald flared and before they could exchange further recriminations, the aide called the members of the committees to take their places at the table. Donald and Jessica broke away and Jessica found a nameplate with her name and rank on it.

The meeting was not as exciting as Jessica had imagined. She hardly needed to take notes and was only interested when Donald stood to deliver his report on the state of rationing in Australia. She wondered whether she might be able to get away from Tony this evening and meet with Donald. But she was not sure if her motives were completely in line with his request for her to spy for the prime minister on General MacArthur’s intelligence system.

The meeting broke up for lunch and when Jessica manoeuvred herself to speak with Donald she was startled to see Tony standing in the doorway.

‘A message from the office,’ Tony said with a grim smile. ‘We are to go to Victoria Barracks for another meeting. We leave now.’

Jessica followed the American officer from the meeting room. She looked back to see Donald staring after her with an expression she could not decipher.

*

Captain David Macintosh marvelled at the world his company had entered this high up. Beautiful tropical flowers and orchids grew amongst thick, twisting vines. Watercourses roared towards waterfalls, and under the canopy of trees they were in perpetual twilight and dripping water. Underfoot was a carpet of soft leaf mould, and from the top of the hills they could occasionally glimpse panoramic views over the hills and valleys nearby.

But this beautiful place was also a place of menace and death. The Japanese were retreating, using the tactics employed by the Australians when they were retreating. In the thick undergrowth the enemy left ambush parties to strike when the forward elements of the infantry were only feet away. Such a tactic forced the advancing forces to stop and deploy, giving the main body of the Japanese more time to reach the north coast of New Guinea from whence they had originally landed.

Even when they were not in contact with the Japanese, another enemy took its toll on the troops. Malaria, scrub typhus and dysentery brought down fighting men as often as bullets and bombs.

David’s battalion was moving forward to occupy the position of another battalion on the heights above Eora Creek. The location lay amongst huge trees with splayed, twisting roots in a dank world of almost perpetual rain. At night they experienced the bitter chill and swirling mists. It was a place easily imagined as from another world – a green hell. In the night David’s company could hear the sound of gunfire just ahead, and he knew the war had come down to an individual basis of each man’s self-discipline and stamina to keep going.

In the morning David received orders to take his company in an outflanking sweep around Eora Creek village to advance on Alola village. The intention was to disrupt any planned ambush by the Japanese at Eora Creek.

They moved out midmorning and made their way along a ridge until they came to a clearing and saw the village around three hundred feet below. The order was given to go down to the creek and ascend the steep ridge on the other side. As David sent his men forward they could hear rifle and mortar fire and David guessed that their sister battalion was taking hits from the Japanese.

The task was daunting as the climb was a steep, almost four thousand foot mountain to ascend, but the battalion commander calculated that the main body of the enemy would be encountered, and David’s company would contact them. The CO had calculated from the enemy fire that they would be up against a company of Japanese. It was not a good chance but the thick jungle and terrain evened the odds.

David could hear fire falling on the battalion gathered at the end of the bare spur. Added to the small arms fire was that of a mountain gun and mortars shelling the unit.

David was worried by how difficult it was to keep communication with his platoons. At least in the deserts of North Africa he had watched the large formations of the enemy armour, and infantry advancing to the attack, but here it was a war of man on man.

He received a radio comms transmission that his forward platoon had reached the village and were pinned down by fierce Japanese fire. David gave them the order to pull back and wondered how the battalion was faring under the gunfire on the spur. It was obvious that the enemy had a clear field of observation to do so.

To cross the creek before them David’s company would have to attack one of the bridges while their sister battalion went after the other of the two crossings.

They bivouacked for the night and the next morning David was informed that their sister battalion had not been able to take the bridge they had been assigned and had lost many men in their futile attempt to cross. The Japanese were mustered in a strong holding force, and now it was the turn of David’s company to take on the defenders of the second bridge, knowing that the enemy would inflict many casualties in their attempt.

The company moved out and David found himself
looking at the faces of the soldiers he passed. How many would be cracking a smile when the sun went down tonight, and how many would lie dead as darkness fell?

David pored over a map and came up with the best plan he could. He would send a platoon up a ridge downstream to make their way into the rear of the Japanese defenders, providing covering fire as the rest of the company fought their way across the bridge. He called in his friend and platoon commander, John Dulley, and briefed him on the task.

‘It’s the best we can do,’ David said. ‘I know the going will be tough.’

‘No worries, cobber,’ John said. ‘You do know that I am down to seventeen men.’

‘I know,’ David said. ‘But it’s suicide to take the Japs head on.’

John Dulley hefted himself from the ground where he had been squatting over the map. David watched him walk back to his platoon in the thick scrub, and remembered all those times they had been on leave together in Cairo. That felt like a lifetime ago, and David wondered whether he would ever see the end of his fighting days. If he went back to being a civilian, the only real skill he had was leading men in a crusade to kill others. He had a fleeting thought about two women; Allison and Sarah. For either one of them to feature in his future, he first had to survive the present. This deadly operation to take the bridge was just one of so many he had fought in the past – and would in the future.

*

Sir George Macintosh was not happy.

It was not up to a married woman to ask her husband to leave the house. He had actually liked Charles Huntley, who had a good pedigree and was more importantly the father of his future grandson.

Sir George sat in his library, waiting for Sarah to return that evening, and heard her speaking with the cook downstairs. He waited until he heard her footsteps on the steps to the top floor, and called to her through his open doorway.

Sarah stepped into the library.

‘You wish to speak with me?’ she asked with her hand on the doorframe.

‘Sit down,’ Sir George said. ‘I think it is time that we spoke about a few matters in the family.’

Sarah reluctantly took a chair next to the wide window overlooking the drive way from the library. ‘You appear to look a little annoyed,’ she said. ‘Is something the matter?’

‘I spoke with your husband,’ Sir George said. ‘He was departing on a train to Victoria for aircrew training in the RAAF.’

‘You knew he chose to enlist,’ Sarah said. ‘I think he is being very noble.’

‘A man such as your husband does not choose to commit suicide unless driven to it,’ Sir George said. ‘He seemed to be a man with nothing to lose, not someone motivated by patriotic duty. What has happened between you two?’

Sarah glanced out the window at the warm shadows of the early evening. ‘We just simply grew apart.’

‘But you have not been married for even a couple of months,’ George responded. ‘He should be anticipating his imminent fatherhood, not running away to fly aeroplanes.’

‘It really does not matter. It is not his child,’ Sarah said. ‘It is David’s child.’

Sir George thought that he had heard wrong. ‘Do you mean your cousin, David?’ he asked in his shock.

‘Yes,’ Sarah replied with a defiant stare at her father.

‘But he is a Jew,’ Sir George gasped. ‘How could you have a Jew baby to that man?’

‘If I remember correctly,’ Sarah said, ‘the baby has to have a Jewish mother before it is truly a Jew, so you don’t have to be concerned, Father.’

‘Does Charles know?’ Sir George asked, still attempting to try and come to grips with this act of forbidden love.

‘No,’ Sarah said calmly in a detached way that almost frightened her father. ‘If he should fall in the service of his country, then he will die with the consolation that he has left a child behind to honour his sacrifice.’

Sir George shook his head slowly. What had he spawned? ‘It is if you were the reincarnation of Lady Enid,’ he said softly.

‘I wish I had known her,’ Sarah said. ‘From all that I have read about her she was a remarkable woman. That brings me to the point of asking you directly which of us will eventually take control of the management of the companies. My brother or me?’

‘Neither, while I am still alive,’ Sir George answered coldly. ‘I admire your assertiveness, but I also have to consider that the leadership of the family should be in the hands of a man – not a woman.’

‘You constantly forget that my cousin, David, is also a major shareholder,’ Sarah said. ‘What will happen if he returns from the war?’

‘I doubt the Jew will want to return to the world of commerce,’ Sir George said. ‘He is too much like his father, Alexander – no head for business.’

Sarah said nothing for a moment then replied ‘You said our family was cursed. Do you believe that?’ Sarah asked.

‘How could we be cursed when we are amongst the richest people in this country,’ Sir George said, but knew he was bluffing when he still awoke in the dark of the night to see the shadow of Wallarie in the corner of the room. Lately he was accompanied by other menacing shadows of the past. It was as if they were patiently waiting for him to pull aside the veil and join them on the other side.