by James R Benn
“Do you think he plans to stick with us?” I asked Kaz.
“I sense he may be impatient, and with good reason,” Kaz said. “If Captain Ritchie has done nothing so far, the trail has certainly gone cold.”
“We need to talk to Jack and check out the scene of the crime,” I said. “Then find out who may have had a beef with Daniel. The sergeant should be able to help with that, at least among the natives.”
“Yes, and the Coastwatchers as well,” Kaz said. “We need to find someone among the navy personnel who isn’t worried about offending Captain Ritchie. We should talk to Commander Cluster before he leaves.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t seem the type to worry about a pencil pusher like Ritchie,” I said.
“Have you spoken with Captain Ritchie?” Kaz asked Vouza, who had made a sour look at the mention of the name.
“Nomata yu talem hem, baebae hem i no lisen. Hem i nating savvy,” Vouza said as Kao came out with the breakfast plates.
“No matter what you tell him,” Kaz said slowly, replaying the Pijin words in his mind, “he will not listen. But I do not understand ‘nating savvy.’”
“He understands nothing,” Vouza said, in British-accented English, tucking into his Spam, which disappeared as quickly as his Pijin. I heard Kao chuckling as he brought out more coffee.
“I did not know your purpose,” Vouza said as we drove to the hospital. He was going to a nearby villa where his Coastwatcher boss was headquartered. “I wanted to hear you speak when you thought I would not understand.” He spoke slowly, his voice not quite right, the words slurred and thick. I wondered if the scar on his neck had anything to do with that.
“You speak English very well,” I said.
“They taught me well at the Evangelical Mission on Guadalcanal,” he said. “But Pijin comes easier. You learn kwiktaem, Kaz.” I guess I’d be the slow-time one.
“You’re worried we’re here to cover things up?” I said.
“No mi wari,” Vouza said. “Hem kill Daniel wari.” That was easy enough to figure out.
“Do you know Lieutenant Jack Kennedy?” I asked, wondering if Vouza had him on his list of suspects.
“Sure. Hem loosim boat. Two fella dead. Hem wari all day. Hem hate Japan man. Kennedy barava.” Brave. It wasn’t the first word that sprang to mind about Jack, but it had been a while.
“Did he know Daniel?” I asked.
“Ya. Daniel friend with Biuku and Eroni. They brought message to navy to send boat. Save sailors. They all visit Kennedy. Next day, Daniel dead. You think Kennedy kill Daniel?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“I think no,” Vouza said. “Hem good man. Also weak from loosim PT boat, no helti. Daniel strong. Hem faetem Kennedy easy.”
“That fits what we know about his condition after the rescue. We need to talk to Jack,” I said. “You know his father is a very important man?”
“I do not know his father. Big man?”
“Yes,” I said, figuring Vouza deserved the truth. “Very big in America. He had us sent here. But he doesn’t own us.”
Vouza looked at me from the passenger seat, then turned his gaze to Kaz. He pursed his lips, nodding to himself.
“No wari,” Vouza said. “You tell me Kennedy no kill Daniel, I believe you. You tell me Kennedy kill Daniel, then I kill Kennedy. Kwiktaem.”
There wasn’t much to say after that.
Chapter Ten
I saw Jack before he spotted me. He had always been skinny, but I wasn’t prepared for how frail and bone-thin he looked. But the smile was there, the same one I remembered. The kind of grin that took you in and swallowed you whole. There was no denying a smiling Jack.
“Billy Boyle!” Jack exclaimed from his hospital bed, where he’d been reclining while a striking brown-haired female nurse changed bandages on his feet. He swung his legs off the bed, trailing a swath of gauze and nearly knocking the girl off her chair. “Sorry I can’t get up; we’re in the middle of something. How are you, Billy?”
His Cambridge accent was as strong as ever. They tell me folks from Southie have a bit of an accent, but we all sound normal to my ears. Jack’s accent was pure Harvard, with that British upper-class drawl and those leisurely rrr’s. I took his proffered hand and shook. His skin was deeply tanned, but that was the only part of him that looked healthy. Or helti, as Jacob said. He had dark bags under his eyes and a weariness that his jovial greeting couldn’t hide.
“I’m good, Jack,” I said. “How are you?”
“Fine,” he said. “Deanna is taking great care of me. Deanna Pendleton, this is an old pal of mine from Boston, Billy Boyle. A swell guy.” Jack looked up at me while Deanna smiled politely and maneuvered his legs back onto the bed. She smeared ointment on the bottom of his feet. They’d been badly cut up from what I could see. Healing, but it didn’t look like Jack would be running the hundred-yard dash anytime soon. I looked away, feeling Jack’s gaze grow steely. He didn’t like his weaknesses on display.
“Jack, this is Kaz.”
“Lieutenant Piotr Kazimierz,” Kaz said. “A pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant. I met your brother several years ago in England, at a house party given by Lady Astor.” Kaz carefully left out the recent meeting in Morocco.
“My condolences, Lieutenant,” Jack said. “Sounds dreary. Joe can be a bore at times. Always so serious.”
“I assure you, Lady Astor was so offensive I took little note of anyone else.”
“Very diplomatic,” he said. “At least regarding my family. Are you with the Polish Government in Exile?”
“Detached,” Kaz said, avoiding the fact that he now worked for General Eisenhower.
“Kaz is a baron,” I said, steering the conversation in a direction a Boston Brahmin might appreciate, even an upstart Irish Brahmin.
“What clan?” Jack asked. It was the first time I ever heard anyone ask that question. Everyone else was surprised that Poles had barons.
“The Augustus clan,” Kaz answered, pride evident in his voice. “But please call me Kaz. Most Americans do.”
“Then so shall I,” Jack said. “I had no idea there were Polish forces in the South Pacific. Are you two stationed around here?” He sounded genuinely clueless about why we were here. But the Kennedys didn’t get on top by telegraphing their moves, so I thought I’d play along and see what was what.
“For the time being,” I said, which was true enough. “We met Sergeant Vouza this morning, and he came along.” Vouza stepped closer, his hand raised in greeting.
“Hao Nao, Jacob!” Jack said.
“Mi olraet nomoa!” Vouza said. “Jack savvy gud Pijin. Hao Nao, Deanna.” He grinned and gave Deanna a salute, which she returned with a gracious nod, her hands busy wrapping a roll of gauze around Jack’s foot.
“Jacob taught me some,” Jack explained as Deanna tied off the bandage, ignoring her and whatever pain she inflicted on his foot. “It’s not hard to pick up if you pay attention.”
“I go now,” Vouza announced. “Captain Sexton and other Coastwatchers wait for me. Jack, soon we kill many Jap fella. All inna ground. Lukim iu!” With a wave of a hand, he was gone.
“He’s an excellent fellow,” Jack said. “The Coastwatchers organization is having a major confab in a villa down the road. Jacob is a big wheel with them.” I wondered if he’d be as admiring if he knew Vouza was ready to use that machete on him if necessary.
“Lukim iu?” Kaz asked.
“Goodbye,” Jack explained. “See you, to be precise.”
He winced as he moved to a chair and motioned for Kaz to join him. He walked gingerly on the heels of his feet, which obviously were not fully healed. He shifted a few times in his seat, getting his back as straight as he could. His back was always giving him fits, and being run over by a Jap destroyer couldn’t have helped much.
After
a deep breath, Jack began asking Kaz questions about Poland and the Polish Government in Exile. What was their position regarding the Soviets? Post-war borders and the British government? It was like watching a sponge absorb water. Jack had a way of taking all the intelligence you had to offer and giving little in return except his undivided attention. It was charming and callous at the same time.
“So, Miss Pendleton, I didn’t think there were any Australian nurses on staff here,” I said, making conversation while Kaz and Jack talked about the consequences of the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk.
“There aren’t, and I’m from New Zealand,” she said, her accent soft and melodic. She wore army coveralls which were way too large for her. The belt was cinched twice around her tiny waist. “Call me Deanna, please. I am a nurse, but I was with the Methodist mission on Vella Lavella. We stayed behind after the other civilians were evacuated, hoping the Japanese would respect a religious community providing medical care for the Melanesians.”
“I’m guessing they didn’t,” I said.
“No,” Deanna said, shaking her head as she absently twisted the white bandages around her hand. “We heard rumors of Catholic nuns on Bougainville being bayoneted. As word of Japanese atrocities against the natives filtered out, I decided to get out. A Coastwatcher on Segi sent a canoe, and I ended up working as his radio operator until they brought me here.”
“That’s the short version, Billy,” Jack said. “Deanna helped rescue two B-17 crews and came back here with fourteen Jap prisoners.” He turned back to Kaz and talked of Stalin’s plans for Poland without missing a beat.
“That’s impressive,” I said, meaning it.
“It isn’t,” she said. “I wasn’t alone, and the Japanese were fairly meek. They have no concept of surrender, so when they are taken prisoner—which isn’t often—they have no behavior to fall back upon. They feel cut off from Japan and believe they can never go home, having shamed themselves. Pathetic wretches, really.”
“Why did you stay on with the Coastwatchers? Couldn’t they have gotten you out?”
“My sister was a nurse with the army. Stationed at Singapore,” she said, her voice low and halting. “They brought the nurses out on the last ship before the garrison surrendered, but it was torpedoed off Sumatra. They all made it ashore in a lifeboat, where unfortunately the Japanese were waiting. They shot the wounded men and then forced all twenty nurses to walk into the water.”
“Back into the ocean?”
“Yes. Then they machine-gunned them. One of the women was only grazed by a bullet and simply floated until the Japanese left the beach. Natives gave her shelter and she worked her way to Australia. That’s when I found out my kid sister was dead.”
“You wanted to avenge your sister,” I said.
“I never thought of it that way,” she said. “I simply didn’t want anyone else to suffer like that because they’d been captured. And I wanted those prisoners we had to know what their people did.”
“You told them?”
“Yes, one of the officers spoke English. He told the others and they wept. What a strange people they are. Chopping off heads, shooting and bayoneting women, and then squatting in their loincloths and crying a river of tears for my dead sister.”
“Perhaps they were ashamed,” I said.
“I think they were, Lieutenant,” Deanna said. “But that may have had more to do with the carbine I had pointed at them. Not only did they fail to die for their emperor, they were prisoners of a mere woman.” She laughed, softly, to show it was a bit of a joke. But the laughter ended on a sharp note, and I knew there was a measure of vengeance in it.
“Enough of me, Billy,” she said, brushing the dark hair away from her face. “What brings you to Tulagi?”
“Looking up an old friend,” I said. “We heard about Jack’s boat and decided to see how he was doing. We missed him last night.”
“We were at a party. Hugh Sexton is in charge of the Coastwatchers in the Solomons. He’s got a bunch of his chaps in for a confab and we got together for drinks. They don’t see each other too often, so it was an occasion for celebration.”
“What was it like being a Coastwatcher? Lonely?”
“Hardly,” Deanna laughed. “You’re much too busy to get lonely. Lugging a heavy radio set, working with the natives, always looking for a better observation post, and evading Japanese patrols tends to focus your attention.”
“Are the natives on our side?”
“Oh yes,” Deanna said. “Even the ones who didn’t appreciate the British administration long for those days. The Japanese abuse them terribly. The Japanese might have done better if they’d befriended them, but word spread quickly about their brutalities.”
“The Japs did us a favor,” Jack said, his interrogation of Kaz complete. “Otherwise the natives might not have been so helpful.” Cynical, but true.
“I’ll let you fellows get on with your visit,” Deanna said, gathering up her medical supplies. “Jack, I’ll be back after lunch and we’ll take a walk, alright?”
Jack nodded as Deanna gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek and patted his shoulder on her way out. Even in army coveralls, she cut a great figure, which Jack viewed with proprietary interest.
“Are you up to walking, Jack?” I said, bringing us back to the present.
“Yeah, I get around okay,” he said. “I have deck shoes I wear loose, and a pal of mine gave me this cane.” He hoisted a long wooden cane with a heavy knobbed head and intricate carvings. “He said he got it from a native chief, but who knows? Sometimes friends keep the truth to themselves.”
Silence filled the hut as the three of us stared at each other.
“Are we friends, Jack?” I tried for an offhanded tone, but the bitterness hung in the air.
“I think we’re about to find out,” Jack said. “Now that we’re alone, why don’t you come clean and tell me why General Eisenhower’s personal cop comes all the way from North Africa to this dump. Are you going to arrest me for the murder of Daniel Tamana?”
“We don’t know who killed him, Jack,” Kaz said. “We only know that you found the body. But his death is why we are here. Or specifically, why Billy is here.”
“Let me guess,” he said. “Father pulled some strings.” He shook his head as if in disbelief that his father’s control extended so far.
“Not only did he pull them,” I said, “he thinks I’m still attached at the other end. As far as I can figure, if I come up with any evidence of your involvement, he’ll claim I’m biased against you.” Which had a ring of truth to it.
“You won’t,” Jack said. “I didn’t kill Daniel. I wish I knew who did.”
“That would save us all a lot of trouble,” I said. “Has anyone asked you any questions?”
“Not really,” Jack said. “Captain Ritchie came around and said he’d have it investigated. Some of Sexton’s Coastwatchers were district commissioners before the war. They would have been the local authority, but it’s the US Navy in charge around here now.”
“Meaning Ritchie,” I said. I outlined the captain’s connection to ONI and Ambassador Kennedy.
“Ritchie’s an idiot,” Jack said. “Headquarters down here is FUBAR.”
“Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition,” I explained to Kaz, not certain if he’d picked up that bit of Yank slang.
“Do you have any ideas who went after Daniel? Did he have enemies?”
“I didn’t know him well enough to say. I’d met him only the day before, when he came to visit with his native pals, Biuku and Eroni. They were the natives who found us on that island. Daniel was a Coastwatcher. Seemed like a smart kid. Spoke English like he went to Oxford with Kaz. I went over to Sexton’s that same day, and Daniel was there for a while, but left soon after I arrived.”
“Deanna and Jacob both mentioned a big Coastwatchers meeting,” I
said.
“Yeah,” Jack said, leaning back in his chair, the trace of a wince crossing his face. “We’ve moved up the island chain recently. We took Rendova, which freed up a number of Coastwatcher teams. Sexton brought in some of the others for resupply and to make plans for the next offensive. There’s about a dozen of them, which is probably the largest gathering of the war so far.”
“Is Deanna going out again?” I asked.
“No,” Jack said. “Sexton wouldn’t go for it. She did her part, but she’s a civilian. All the Coastwatchers, even the ones who were plantation owners before the war, have been made officers in the British Navy. It’s supposed to give them protection under the Geneva Convention, but the Japs don’t care. If a Coastwatcher is caught, it’s the bayonet for him. Or her. And the closest villagers are killed as well, since the Japs figure they helped them.”
“Did any of them hold a grudge against Daniel? Maybe he slipped up and got some villagers killed?”
“Not that I’ve heard,” Jack said. “He comes from Malaita Island. Not too many connections to the tribes in this area. You’re thinking a blood feud?”
“Too soon to tell,” I said. “Can you show us where you found the body?”
“Sure. I’ll take you there. Toss me those shoes, Kaz.” We waited while Jack pulled on the white canvas deck shoes over his gauze-encased feet, the laces tied loosely. I grabbed his cane and handed it to him. It was a handsome dark wood, with artistic carvings at the top.
“What do the carvings mean?” I asked as he limped out of the hut, leading us downhill toward the water.
“Nothing,” he said. “You’ll find all sorts of stuff for sale down by the harbor. Grass skirts, canes, and all sorts of carvings. But it’s meaningless. Literally.”
“What do you mean?” Kaz asked, offering a hand to steady Jack as he took uneven steps on the path. Jack shook it off, an irritated look on his face. A Kennedy didn’t need help. His gait improved as we walked. Maybe he was shaking off the stiffness, or maybe ignoring the pain. Hard to tell with that guy.
