The Frozen Circle

by Peter Watt

  Joshua had travelled on a false passport and Maria was listed as a French national as marriages between returning Australian soldiers and French girls were not uncommon. Upon reaching the shores of his home country, Joshua reverted to his real name as he had faith in the protection his government would provide against any British attempt to bring him to their military justice. There had been precedents from the Boer War when the British had failed in their attempts to extradite alleged traitors to the Empire’s cause of subduing the Dutch farmers of South Africa. Despite Australian loyalty to the ideals of the British Empire, the Australian people would not abide British interference in their own proclaimed laws.

  In Sydney Joshua looked up the former members of his battalion who were very pleased to see their old colleague return safe and sound from the Russian Front. He avoided questions about his service in Russia and even if friends he had soldiered with were curious about the gaps in his experiences they did not ask questions. After all, the popular officer had saved many lives with his leadership. They raised beer glasses to toast his return and his marriage to the very pretty French girl.

  Joshua spent some money to purchase a new car and he and his bride set out across the Great Dividing Range, travelling along the rough, hard-packed earthen roads to reach their promised land. They arrived in Valley View, a bustling little village well away from the major centres of Australian civilisation but with every service one would want. The town boasted a butcher’s shop, bakery, barber, resident doctor, four hotels, two boarding houses and a regular visit of the travelling movie picture show man who screened the latest silent films in the town hall to an appreciative audience. Wool was the mainstay of the prosperous district so when Joshua made a bid for the large sandstone house outside town with its thousand acres of fertile land used for running sheep it cost them a substantial bite out of Maria’s fortune. However, they still had money over to purchase breeding stock and enough in the bank to live comfortably.

  Maria had begun learning English and was relatively fluent after a year living with Joshua, enabling her to converse with the curious women of the town’s small social elite. At first it had been hard for the former Russian princess but she soon took delight in working alongside Joshua and her love for him grew with each day they were together, as did his for her. The fear of being hunted by the British quickly evaporated under the hot sun of 1920.

  Maria had accepted that she would never return to Russia as pessimistic news from the front there only reinforced that the Bolsheviks were winning the civil war. But there were times at night when Joshua would find her weeping by the stove in the kitchen when something had reminded her of her life with her family. He would hold her until the melancholy passed and knew that he would die rather than ever see her hurt again.

  In the town Joshua met up with one of his former soldiers from when he had commanded a company in his old battalion. Bill Crawford had returned to Australia in 1919 and made his way home to Valley View where his wife and children lived. He had been a blacksmith before enlisting in 1915 but the new-fangled development of the automobile was threatening his past occupation. Over a few beers in the bottom hotel, Joshua had suggested that he open a garage to service the cars and trucks now churning up the dust of the main street. Bill Crawford accepted the offer and Joshua became a silent partner in his newly opened garage, supplying fuel and servicing the vehicles in the town. Bill had been at the point of despair until Joshua stepped in to assist as he had a growing family to feed and clothe. But Joshua’s advice and money had put him back on his feet and he prospered in the new business.

  Bill Crawford had strong memories of how Captain Larkin’s courage had kept most of his men alive on the battlefield. His decisions had been wise and he had the ability to stand up to some less than impressive senior officers. It was known to all from the company cook to the company sergeant major that Captain Larkin would have lain down his life for any one of them and Bill was quick to tell anyone of influence in the town of the decorated soldier’s impressive record.

  In the short time they had been in Valley View Joshua and Maria were made feel that they had been living among the townspeople forever.

  Life in the isolated village proved to be secure and comfortable for Captain Larkin – as the local people liked to call their resident war hero – and his wife. That was until the first week in November. Joshua was having a drink with Bill Crawford in one of the town’s hotels on a Friday afternoon when the barmaid casually mentioned to Joshua that a gentleman with a posh voice had been asking around about him. Joshua took his glass of beer from the barmaid and glanced around the crowded bar filled with farm workers – fresh out of the paddocks – seemingly intent on spending a part or all of their wages for the week.

  ‘Is he still here?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ the barmaid replied, already moving on to pour more beers from the tap for the thirsty clientele. ‘The bugger is staying at the boarding house owned by Mrs Leonard. A real toff, if you ask me.’

  ‘Did he leave a name?’

  ‘Come to think of it,’ the girl frowned, ‘he didn’t. You owe him some money or something, Captain Larkin?’ she asked tactlessly.

  Joshua shook his head with a weak smile. ‘No, nothing like that,’ he said, feeling a chill through his body not caused by the cold beer he swigged.

  Beside him, Bill Crawford hardly noticed the change in Joshua’s mood.

  ‘Here’s cheers,’ Bill said, raising his glass. ‘To our mates in the battalion – and to those who can’t be with us now to have a cold one.’

  Joshua raised his glass but his mind was racing. Could it be possible that Locksley had tracked him to Valley View? He hardly tasted the beer he was drinking. It did not seem possible considering the vast distance between Britain and Australia.

  There was only one way to deal with the situation: Joshua knew that he would have to pre-empt any move by the British officer – if he was in town. Excusing himself from the shout, Joshua left the hotel and made his way to the boarding house. He had hardly reached the place when the dread of anticipation turned to outright shock. Frozen by the sight of the man opening the iron gate to the boarding house, Joshua could only stand in the street staring. The man closed the gate behind him and when he turned in Joshua’s direction his also was a look of shock.

  ‘George!’ Joshua finally gasped and walked towards his old friend. But as he approached he could not see the expression of happiness he expected at the reunion. Joshua grasped George’s shoulders but George did not react. The stony expression remained.

  ‘Cobber, I thought you were dead,’ Joshua said. ‘It is so good to see you again.’

  George removed Joshua’s hands from his shoulders and stood back. ‘I heard from some of your old mates in the battalion that you had returned to Australia,’ George replied icily. ‘I didn’t hear any questions as to my welfare.’

  ‘I’m sorry if you think that I forgot you but the last I saw of you over there was when you went off with half the Bolshie militia in pursuit. I didn’t think you would have made it but was forever grateful for what I considered your courageous sacrifice on behalf of the mission.’

  ‘You left the major for dead and failed to carry out the mission we were tasked to do,’ George said bitterly. ‘My sacrifice might have been for nothing because you got caught up with a bit of Russian fluff – thanks for nothing, cobber.’

  At his former friend’s slur against Maria, Joshua felt a seething rush of anger begin to overtake him and had to force himself not to strike the man standing before him. ‘How is it that you got to see the mad major?’ Joshua asked coldly.

  ‘I was with a Czech cavalry recon unit that saved me,’ George said. ‘We came upon the cabin and found Major Locksley barely alive. He told me how you just left him to die and escaped with a Russian Bolshevik agent. The rest is history.’

  ‘You believed him?’ Joshua asked.

  ‘Have you got a better explanation?’ George countered.
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br />   ‘I have, but am loath to tell you when you seem to have accepted his story without considering who and what I am,’ Joshua said. ‘You took the word of an English officer over that of a fellow digger. I doubt that we have anything else to say to each other so I will return to the pub and finish a round of beers with a friend.’

  Joshua turned on his heel and walked away, leaving his former friend standing alone in the street staring at his back. As Joshua strode towards the hotel he barely took notice of the ominous clouds rolling in from the west.

  George Littleton returned to his room and slumped down on the single bed that occupied most of the space in the tiny area. His mind was in turmoil. He had come to ascertain if the same Captain Joshua Larkin he had overheard the former men of his battalion speak of in a Sydney hotel bar was one and the same as the Sergeant Joshua Larkin he soldiered with in the coldest regions of northern Russia. But seeing his old friend once again had shaken him. George had been able to maintain his rage against a man who had callously deserted a fellow soldier to his fate for the sake of a pretty Russian girl.

  At first, he had trouble accepting the British major’s explanation but the major had shown George nothing but generosity of spirit in recommending him for his Distinguished Conduct Medal. George had returned from the Russian campaign a decorated hero – thanks to Major Locksley – and had stepped back into his privileged life with something to show for his military service. His father had already suggested that his son run for politics. The title, the Honourable George Littleton, DCM had a noble ring to it. George had considered his father’s suggestion but one day Major Locksley unexpectedly turned up on his doorstep in Sydney and when George informed him that Joshua was alive and possibly living in a small Australian town west of the Great Dividing Range reminded his former corporal that they still had a mission to complete.

  The knock at his door cut across George’s reflections.

  ‘Are you there, George?’ the male voice asked.

  ‘Come in, major,’ George replied.

  Major Locksley entered the room carrying a small overnight suitcase. George rose from the edge of the bed and Locksley extended his hand in greeting.

  ‘Good to see you again, Mr Littleton,’ he said, using the term reserved for lieutenants by superior officers in the armies of the British Empire. ‘I saw Larkin on the street speaking to you but I don’t think he saw me. We now have a positive identification of our target. Have you been able to determine where he lives and if the Russian girl is with him still?’

  ‘Both,’ George replied in a flat voice. ‘He is within an easy march of here.’

  ‘Good,’ Locksley answered, glancing around the room. ‘As soon as the mission is completed we will leave for Hume City in your automobile and from there I will take the train to Sydney. I appreciate that the task has a lot of risk involved for you but I can assure you that its necessity overrides any personal feelings you may still harbour for Joshua Larkin.’

  ‘We are speaking of murder, major,’ George cautioned. ‘If my involvement in the killings of Captain Larkin and his Russian bride is revealed I could be hanged.’

  ‘You will only be required to drive to where the man lives and remain outside while I take care of the two of them,’ Locksley answered. ‘You will not be a witness to anything that happens and so not be culpable. All you have to do is carry out your part of the plan and when it is done your assistance will be very favourably recorded by His Majesty’s government in England. It is now more than ever that we must eliminate the Russian girl for the dangerous Bolshevik agent that she is. You know it is not within my powers to explain everything about her.’

  George nodded. He was as loyal a member of the British Empire as the next man and reasoned that the risks involved were outweighed by the needs of the Empire’s security. ‘What time do we cross the start line?’ George asked.

  ‘Nineteen hundred hours,’ Locksley replied, glancing at his watch. ‘I will meet you on the northern edge of town so that we are not be seen together. There is a large tree growing next to a stable, I will be there.’

  Their simple plan had been formulated and now all that was required was the execution of the mission. The former British major had left George alone to resume struggling with his confused feelings. Although he would not be directly involved in the killing of Joshua and his Russian wife he would be just as guilty anyway. He may as well be the one to fire the fatal shots.

  Maria stood in the doorway of the kitchen staring up at the great flashes of lightning tearing the sky apart. The massive rolls of thunder reminded her of the artillery gun barrages she had heard in Russia during the civil war. She flinched and continued to gaze into the premature darkness. Joshua had not yet arrived home from his Friday meeting with his close friend, Bill Crawford.

  She heard the puttering sound of their automobile on the gravel driveway at the front of the house and hurried to greet him at the main entrance. Joshua alighted from the car just as the first downpour roared across the hills and drenched the dry earth beneath.

  ‘I was worried,’ Maria said, clasping Joshua to her in a welcoming embrace. ‘The storm is so terrible.’

  Joshua smiled at his wife’s concern and hugged her to him. ‘A bit of water was not going to cause me any harm,’ he said.

  When she broke from the embrace to gaze into his face, Joshua frowned. There was something in her features he had never seen before; a strange, enigmatic expression. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, reaching out for her hands.

  ‘We are going to have a baby!’ Maria exclaimed, and now Joshua knew why he had never seen that expression before. After all, it was the first time for his wife. For a moment he stood stunned.

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ he said, grabbing Maria and swinging her off her feet in his joy. ‘When is this going to happen?’

  ‘It has happened,’ Maria replied, puzzled at the question. ‘I am with child, the doctor came today and said this was true.’

  ‘I mean, when is the baby due?’ Joshua clarified.

  ‘I think June next year,’ Maria answered. ‘Our baby will be born an Australian.’

  ‘You should not be on your feet,’ Joshua fussed, leading Maria to a couch in the living room. ‘I will hire a girl to help you around the house with the chores.’

  ‘That is not necessary,’ Maria sighed. ‘I am a Russian woman and Russian women have worked in the fields for centuries beside their men when they were carrying a child. I am no different from my peasant sisters.’

  As Maria rested her head on Joshua’s shoulder, she felt at peace knowing that her child would be born in this new country, far from the horrors of Europe and the past.

  Standing under the great gum tree at the edge of town did not prevent James Locksley from getting drenched to the skin. It was a nuisance but little different from past experiences in the snows of Russia or on the Western Front; the former British army officer was used to being wet and cold. He saw the headlights in the pouring rain and sighted the car when lightning flashed on the horizon. When it slowed Locksley edged towards the narrow road to pull himself into the passenger side.

  ‘Go,’ he said.

  They drove for a short time north until the lights of the house they sought marked their destination. George parked on the gravel driveway behind Joshua’s car. Without a word, Locksley alighted and walked stealthily towards the front door. He drew a pistol from the pocket of his coat. Testing the door knob he was satisfied to see that it was not locked. He twisted the knob and pushed the door open to step cautiously inside the house. He could smell bread baking. Moving along the hallway he entered the living room. Joshua was sitting on a sofa reading a newspaper and when he looked up was shocked at the sight of a pistol levelled at him.

  ‘Don’t get up,’ Locksley commanded. ‘Where is your wife?’

  Joshua lowered the paper, glaring at the last face on earth he ever wished to see. ‘You think I would tell you,’ Joshua replied loudly, praying that Maria might over
hear his conversation. He knew that she was in the kitchen and also knew why Locksley had invaded his house. Maria would have little chance to survive and Joshua had only this one forlorn opportunity to warn her of the threat in their house. He coiled himself and sprang from the couch at Locksley, knowing at least when he shot him, Maria might hear and wisely flee the house. With any luck she might be able to run to a neighbour for help.

  The bullet ripped into Joshua’s arm between his elbow and wrist. He spun halfway around towards the British man and instinctively gripped the wound.

  ‘That was meant to kill you,’ Locksley snarled. ‘It appears that I am out of practice at this sort of thing. Call your wife.’

  Joshua was surprised that he was still alive but still hoped the shot might have alerted Maria to the danger. He prayed that she would not enter the room to ascertain what had happened.

  ‘Run, Maria!’ he screamed aloud in French and Locksley fired again. This time the bullet grazed Joshua’s cheek, clipping the lower tip of his earlobe. He fell back over the couch out of sight of Locksley.

  ‘We can’t do this,’ a second voice said.

  Joshua recognised it as George Littleton’s. Raising his head above the couch, he saw him standing unarmed behind the British intelligence man.

  Locksley swung around. ‘I told you to stay out of this,’ he snapped. ‘Now you are a witness.’

  Joshua staggered to his feet, clutching his arm. Blood streamed down the side of his face and he could see the look of concern briefly crease George’s face.

  ‘So you are going to help the English murder an innocent woman,’ Joshua asked.

  ‘What’s Joshua talking about?’ George asked Locksley.

  ‘Our mission was to kill the Princess, Maria Romanov, for whatever obscure political reason the English wanted her dead,’ Joshua said, gritting his teeth against the throbbing pain in his arm. ‘I refused to do so and your Major Locksley has obviously recruited you to his cause. I can’t stop you killing me but at least you may as well know why you are helping him.’