by Peter Watt
A split second later Jack fired at one of the men on the verandah. He was thrown back against the wall by the impact. The third man stood in a state of shock, staring into the night that had suddenly turned deadly. His hesitation cost him his life as Paul swung the foresight onto him even as he worked the bolt to eject the spent cartridge and chamber a fresh round. The second shot blasted through the third man’s head and Paul cursed himself for the bad shot. He had expected to hit the man in the centre of the body. All his training had taught him to do so. A headshot was something for snipers, not former infantrymen.
O’Leary heard the gunfire and the screams of dying men as he stood with Karin at his feet. He was momentarily confused as he knew the local natives would not have firearms. But there was no mistaking the fact that someone outside the house had just opened fire. He quickly extinguished the light and drew his revolver. It was time to assess his situation. Moving through the rooms he killed all lights so the house was in complete darkness. Then he took cover behind a window that commanded a view of the yard. Scanning, very carefully, he saw the fluttering shadow of a figure sprinting to the packing sheds. He sensed that it was not one of his own men and felt fear for the first time in many years. Whoever was out there knew what they were doing. He could see one of his men sprawled on the verandah in a pool of blood. Maybe the Chinaman had set him up after all. But since he had not heralded his arrival at the plantation he did not think that could be the explanation. The German planter must have returned, alerted by the gunshots, he deduced. If that were true the Irishman knew he had a chance of extracting himself. But to do so would require the most ruthless of solutions.
THIRTY-NINE
The stern nursing matron had not permitted Erika to see Caroline until the baby was safely delivered and Caroline had been trundled to a bed in the hospital ward. But she did allow Erika a glimpse of the baby in its crib in the nursery section of the hospital.
‘You have a beautiful daughter,’ Erika said as she sat by Caroline’s side in the early hours of the morning. ‘What will your husband think of having a daughter instead of a son?’
Caroline was still in a daze and weak from the delivery. She turned her head to focus on Erika. ‘I don’t care what he thinks,’ she said with a weak smile. ‘It’s not even his flesh and blood. My daughter’s real father is Jack Kelly.’
Erika gasped at the revelation. Possibly it was the euphoria of birth that had loosened Caroline’s tongue or perhaps she no longer cared to keep her secret. Only Caroline knew.
‘The ironic part,’ Caroline continued, ‘is that Jack does not know about either.’
Erika stared at Caroline. Was she aware of what she was saying? Was this the truth or was she in some sort of confused state? Erika gazed into the eyes of her friend. ‘How could this be?’ she asked, feeling a strange hatred for Caroline. Whatever contempt she had held the Australian adventurer in, it was as if she had stolen something from Erika. For the first time in years, Erika was feeling a sorrow for what could have been. But regrets, she knew too well, were also emotions without purpose.
‘As Quentin was not capable of being so himself, I needed a father for my child,’ Caroline continued in a tired voice. ‘Jack was easily seduced and his virility did the rest. Now all Quentin has to get used to is that a woman will inherit the Arrowsmith fortunes in the years ahead. Somehow I think he will have to change his thinking about us weak females.’
Erika’s antagonism towards Caroline seemed to dissipate and she reached out to take her hand. ‘You should get some rest,’ she said softly. ‘I am pleased for you.’
Caroline squeezed her hand in gratitude. ‘You were here with me when even my husband didn’t think it was important enough to be at the hospital,’ she said with an edge of bitterness. ‘That means a lot more to me than you could possibly know.’
Erika rose from her chair and leant over to kiss Caroline on the forehead. ‘We are now sisters in life,’ she whispered. ‘Our lives are entwined forever.’
Caroline smiled and nodded her head. She sighed and turned her cheek against the pillow. Sleep came to her as Erika left the hospital to return to the Arrowsmith house where she would remain a while longer as a guest.
It was not a high class passenger ship that left Sydney Harbour just after midnight, but to Gerhardt the ship represented freedom and safety. Jacob Schmidt and his older partner Bill Havers had come aboard the cargo vessel destined for San Francisco to bid Gerhardt and his daughter farewell. Gerhardt felt the strength of the young agent’s grip as they shook hands. ‘We will have to work together, Herr Schmidt,’ Gerhardt said, looking the young American straight in the eye. ‘Hitler is a madman who has fooled my countrymen into believing his lies. I know in my heart that he will not stop until he takes the world into another terrible war.’
‘I am afraid you and I know that,’ Jacob said, ‘ and I also know that there are Brits like Mr Churchill who also share our views. But I am also afraid that the rest of the world will not listen to us until it is too late. Your assistance will help them to hear. You will be a true patriot to your country.’
Gerhardt smiled sadly. ‘Once I was young and foolish and prepared to lay my life down for my country in the Great War. Now I am older but still just as foolish. My only regret is that I followed that madman. But that is now something that I can use against him in the future. I know him. And what I know of Hitler, you too will know.’
‘Well, be careful, Herr Stahl,’ Jacob said as he let go Gerhardt’s hand. ‘We have made arrangements for you to be met in the States when the boat docks. Your residency in America comes at a price. We will call on you again.’
A crewman arrived to show Gerhardt and Ilsa to their cabin. The two Americans went ashore but not before Bill Havers gave Ilsa a small brown paper parcel with instructions that she was not to open it until the ship had passed through the sandstone cliffs that stood either side of the harbour. But Ilsa could not help herself, ripping open the paper just as the ship pulled away from the dock. Inside she found a tiny stuffed kangaroo and an American teddy bear. Bill Havers had come to like Australia and its people, who he found very much like Americans in many ways. The gift was symbolic of what he saw in the years ahead. He hoped Ilsa too would come to see it as so.
When Erika returned to the Arrowsmith residence in a taxi just before dawn she was told of the police visit earlier that evening by a very irritated Quentin. ‘Was it a boy or a girl?’ he asked, almost as an afterthought, when he made to leave her alone in the spacious living room.
‘A girl,’ Erika told him and saw the bitter look of disappointment on his face as he turned away to go back to bed.
She slumped into a chair as she took in the news, her thoughts whirling. Gerhardt had outsmarted her. How was she going to explain this to her masters in Berlin? The sun was rising over Sydney and the new day promised warmth on the ancient continent. For Erika she had not only lost her daughter but possibly the confidence of the party. She felt very much alone and frightened. At least she had Caroline whom she knew would stand by her. After all, they both belonged to Jack Kelly’s unwitting harem. What would he think if he ever found out about his two daughters? The possibility was unlikely but nonetheless it amused Erika at a time when little else did.
FORTY
Paul and Jack decided to split up after they had eliminated the three men. They did not know how many more intruders were in the house or even in the compound. All they knew was that they had at least reduced their opposition. Paul chose to make his way to the rear of his house whilst Jack kept the front covered. When the house suddenly went dark he knew that there was at least one other inside, if not more.
Paul was desperate with fear for Karin and Angelika. There had been no sound of their voices and by now he was certainly close enough to hear if they spoke or called out. The dogs were still barking but quietened when he neared them in their kennels at the back of the house. Their silence was not lost on whoever was in the house, however.
Paul did not immediately recognise the voice but Jack Kelly did. He knew it well and the years had not diminished his hatred of the Irishman. Then a vague memory from Paul’s past now brought the terrible realisation of who he was dealing with – a recollection of the Fly River and a callous killer who had transported Sen’s sister-in-law into slavery. His anger turned to a blinding need to kill O’Leary before he could take two of the most precious people from him. ‘It is me, O’Leary,’ Paul called out. ‘Are my wife and daughter unharmed?’
‘For the moment,’ O’Leary called back, and Paul thought he heard a muffled sound, like the stifling of a call by a gag or hand over the mouth.
‘Who is with you?’ O’Leary asked.
‘I am on my own,’ Paul bluffed.
But the Irishman was not fooled. ‘You are lying, Mann,’ he said. ‘One man alone couldn’t take out three of my men so easily. So I will ask again who is with you and if you don’t answer truthfully I will use my knife to slice off a piece of your wife or daughter – I will let you decide which one.’
Paul knew that O’Leary meant what he said. He had seen first-hand what cruelty the former recruiter of native labour was capable of. ‘Jack Kelly is with me,’ he answered in his desperation.
‘Kelly!’ O’Leary exploded. ‘Tell him to show himself.’
‘I will show myself,’ Jack called from the front of the house, ‘when you send out Mrs Mann and her daughter unharmed.’
‘I will make a deal with you, Kelly,’ O’Leary said. ‘I will send the kid out unharmed if you stand at the foot of the steps to the verandah without any weapons.’
‘It’s a deal,’ Jack replied. Paul cursed his friend but knew he was helpless to stop him. He was virtually sentencing himself to death and must have known it. He was sacrificing his life for one of his family and Paul felt tears of frustration wet his cheeks. ‘Don’t do it, Jack,’ Paul cried out. ‘The bastard will kill you.’
‘Old Tim and I go back aways,’ Jack said loudly. ‘If nothing else he knows I will honour my word, and he also knows that if he doesn’t I will kill him.’
Jack’s bravado did not fool Paul. He knew that Jack was prepared to sacrifice himself for people he considered his family. When a light went on in the house, flooding the verandah with its yellow glow, Paul hoped that this was an opportunity to see if there were others inside. Perhaps the Irishman was setting them up for an ambush?
Jack laid his rifle down and walked towards the house, feeling the fear grip his stomach like a knot. He knew what he was doing was suicidal but he was desperate to get Karin and Angelika out of there. And there was a slim chance O’Leary would honour the deal. As he came to a stop at the foot of the steps to the verandah, little Angelika appeared shivering with a sheet wrapped around her, staring at him uncomprehendingly. Behind her O’Leary held Karin who was gagged with a piece of sheet, her hands bound behind her back. She wore the tattered remains of a nightdress, the front of her body exposed. The Irishman pressed a revolver against Karin’s head.
‘Come to me, little angel,’ Jack said gently as he held out his hand to Angelika.
His nickname for her seemed to work. ‘Uncle Jack,’ she cried out, ‘help Mama.’
‘I will,’ Jack said, glancing past Angelika to catch Karin’s eyes pleading for him to get her daughter away.
Angelika took his hand and Jack turned to walk with her across the yard. From the corner of his eye he could see Dademo lying on his back with his rifle across his chest. Jack was very aware of O’Leary behind him in the doorway of the house. He felt the bullet before he heard the sound of the shot from the revolver. Jack pitched forward into the dust. ‘Run,’ he croaked up at Angelika who stood over him. ‘Run down the track to Karl. He’s waiting for you.’
Jack lay face down, vaguely aware that it was very dark. Whether that was because O’Leary had turned out the lights of the house again or he was just dying did not matter anymore. He could taste the soil of Papua in his mouth and thought that it might have been the taste of French soil if he had been killed on the Western Front years earlier. At least it was the soil of his adopted country that he would taste as he died.
‘O’Leary, you murdering bastard!’ Paul roared, now concealed at the side of the house. ‘You said you would not kill him.’
‘I said I would release your kid if Kelly appeared unarmed at the foot of the verandah,’ O’Leary replied from the depths of the again darkened house. ‘I never said I wasn’t going to shoot him. You see, I am a man of my word.’
Paul had not been able to see O’Leary when he came to the door. His only view had been of the yard and Jack approaching from the treeline at the edge of the compound. He had felt his heart skip a beat when he saw Jack walking away with his daughter who appeared relatively unharmed. But to his horror he had also seen Jack flung forward by the bullet from O’Leary’s pistol. Even now he could see the dark patch spreading to soak Jack’s shirt. If he was still alive he would not be for long given how much blood was seeping from him.
‘It seems that with Kelly gone,’ O’Leary said from inside the house, ‘that leaves only you, me and your missus to work out a deal. And the deal is simple. You do not attempt to shoot me and I will not attempt to shoot your wife. So I expect you to come forward without any weapons and you get the same deal as Kelly, except this time I promise I won’t shoot you or your missus.’
‘I don’t trust you,’ Paul replied. ‘But if you let my wife go I will put down my gun and you can use me as a hostage instead.’
‘Ah, but that means I have to trust you and I am by nature not a trusting man. So you will have to believe me when I say your wife and I will go down to the beach and across to my boat together. When I am sure I am safe I will release her.’
Paul knew the Irishman had the upper hand. While Paul was still armed he knew O’Leary could not kill Karin without being killed himself. And to put down his gun before the Irishman meant certain death for him and Karin. And if O’Leary was intending to take Karin to a boat in the bay then there was a good chance he would still kill her, or worse – send her to wherever it was that he had sent Iris many years earlier. The situation was looking hopeless. ‘We go to the beach together,’ Paul finally answered. ‘But I do not put down my gun.’
‘Fair enough,’ O’Leary replied.
Paul stepped out warily from beside the house when the lights once again went on inside. He held the butt of his rifle into his shoulder and kept his finger on the trigger, just in case O’Leary had more men waiting to ambush him. But only the Irishman emerged with Karin, still gagged and tied.
‘You know,’ Paul said quietly as he approached O’Leary. ‘I once had you in my rifle sights when you were taking Iris aboard that Arab dhow a few years back.’ He could see O’Leary’s surprise. ‘I had you in my sights and spared you for reasons I wish I had reconsidered. If I had killed you then my friend Jack Kelly might not have become another of your victims nor would my family be threatened as it is now.’
‘You were up the Fly back in ’23? Or was it ’22?’ O’Leary asked. ‘Not that the past matters anymore. Just worry about what is going to happen in the next few minutes if you are not very careful.’
‘You know if you shoot my wife you are a dead man,’ Paul said calmly. ‘But I can promise you that all I am concerned about is that I have Karin alive and well. Then you have your safe passage out of here. One day though you and I will settle up.’
‘That it will probably come to,’ O’Leary replied as he stepped off the verandah with the revolver at Karin’s head. ‘Too bad old Jack is dead,’ he commented, glancing across the yard into the far reaches of the light from the house to where Jack lay in the dust. ‘I could have told him where that Chinese sister-in-law of old Sen is right now. I heard that if Jack could have found her he would have inherited a fortune. He would have never needed to work again in this stinking place.’
‘You know
where Iris is?’ Paul asked.
‘She is with my old mate, the Froggie,’ O’Leary said, pushing Karin ahead of him but keeping her between himself and Paul as a shield as Paul walked backwards in front of them. ‘He decided that he needed a wife to help him run his little business. I don’t suppose it matters if I do you a favour and tell you where she is now.’
Paul was not a religious man but in the next few seconds found himself praying. For behind the Irishman’s back Paul had seen a figure emerge from the shadows at the edge of the bush and move stealthily over to Dademo’s prone figure. He could tell it was Lukas and saw the young man pick up the rifle. Lukas would require absolute skill and raw nerve, but he was now walking towards them, carefully chambering a round so that the metal parts of the breech did not make a sound as the bolt closed into place.
Maybe it was a subtle change in Paul’s demeanour but the Irishman suddenly sensed danger and shifted his attention to glance over his shoulder. Lukas was still at least four paces away but in desperation brought the rifle up with one hand as if it were a hand gun until the end of the barrel was only inches from O’Leary’s head. The Irishman snarled as he swung on Lukas with his pistol, but had little chance as Lukas pulled the trigger, the high velocity round blasting through the Irishman’s head.
Paul leapt forward to grab hold of his wife, who had stumbled in the dark. It was over.
FORTY-ONE
Fuji did not wait any longer for O’Leary to return. The sporadic gunfire told him that the Irishman’s luck had finally run out. He hauled up the anchors and under the power of her engine the schooner slid through the placid waters to the Gulf of Papua. He knew where he could find a buyer for the boat in the Torres Islands and expected to soon find a berth on a cargo ship steaming to Japan. There he could realise his dream and enlist in the Imperial Japanese Navy.
