Hiroshima Sunset
Page 20
It was a balmy Autumn afternoon in Melbourne; not one for closing oneself off in a dark windowless room peering at a computer monitor, but events were unfolding, important events and George Balwyn had a pre-arranged commitment. He had eluded having to explain his absence to Janet Ryan who was otherwise occupied on editorial matters. As quietly as he could be, he slipped downstairs and disappeared behind the mystery door before anyone noticed. Had any of his staff who were so curious about the activities behind the mystery door seen inside, they would have been bitterly disappointed. It was no more than another office with all the usual trimmings, a desk, some modest furniture, a filing cabinet, pictures of his mother and father hanging from the walls and a computer with a broadband connection.
George sat pensively in front of his monitor. He was reading an email advising him of proceedings far away in Japan. The email read?
Amanda Blackburn has arrived in Hiroshima and established contact with Mieko Murata. She is with Mieko and Masako Yamada as we speak. What do you want me to do
George considered the information passed on to him, clicked on the 'reply' link, and delivered a return message, then, took in a deep breath; his well-prepared plan was in play.
Several miles away, at Coventry House in Bundoora, Ronnie Maclean sat in bed while Penelope and Evelyn Maclean made use of the community internet service at the retirement home, typing off a reply to an email received from their nephew, David Maclean in Tokyo, David had written?.
We are in Kamakura. Tomorrow morning I will go out alone along the hiking course. It is too rugged for Margaret.
And so it was that a confluence of greed, fear and self-righteousness had gathered between these otherwise good but distracted people, each of whom believed that their pursuits would bring some sought of closure to events that transpired over sixty years earlier in the squalor that was post-war Hiroshima. Quentin Avers sought to correct the dubious reputation that had surfaced concerning his father; a reputation that suggested he was a soldier of fortune, ruthlessly exploiting a downtrodden, starving people. Ronnie Maclean wanted something so long denied him, a bounty that would balance the scales however minutely and recognize his role in the events of so long ago. And there were others who wanted justice too. George Balwyn had never revealed to Amanda, his personal interest in having her travel to Japan. And then there was Andrew Patterson, the middle aged gentleman, who so conveniently appeared at Hiroshima station and assisted Amanda in procuring her ticket to Kyoto. All these people had been driven to distraction by the emergence of a journal written by a soldier named Michael, a soldier none could recall or identify, who, sixty years earlier, lived amongst the protagonists at Battalion HQ at Kaitaichi, who worked with them at Ujina helping process and repatriate millions of returning Japanese soldiers. Who was the mysterious Michael, the author of the journal and what had motivated him to initiate such a challenging undertaking so late in his life? And what became of his first great love, Shigeko and her baby?
There was only one person able to sift through this mire of intrigue and deception. Amanda Blackburn. Only Amanda would have the objectivity, and the investigative drive to rise above the petty jealousy, the secretive nature and personal aspirations of all the other participants. Only Amanda could bring a steady mind and good judgment to the cause, and avoid what might otherwise spoil a satisfactory outcome.
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