The White Ghost

by James R Benn

  “Choiseul Bay is that way, due west,” Johnston said, studying his compass as he conferred with Ariel, who nodded his agreement without bothering to look at the device. “That’s where Major Bigger and his men were to attack a Jap base in the harbor.”

  “Could that be the attack?” Kaz asked.

  “No,” Johnston said, checking to see if Ariel agreed. He did, giving the slightest nod. “The harbor is too far away. But they could be fighting their way back to the river. We need to cross here and find them.”

  “Agri,” Ariel said. “Yumi faetem, kill Japan man gut.” With that, he beckoned us forward, to the river. I had to think about what he’d said, and then I agreed, too. You and me, we fight ’em.

  Within minutes Ariel had led us to the riverbank. Johnston sent two men over first, wading in waist-deep water to the other side. They gave the all-clear sign and we forded the river, which was much calmer than it had been downstream. Kaz didn’t even look concerned, until a water snake rippled its way along the line of men. That got everyone moving fast.

  We spread out, moving up a ridge, scrambling over moss-covered rock that dripped water from between rocky seams, making the going as slippery as it was tough. When we reached the top, I was about done in. A grueling march, too little sleep, and heat that wrung out every ounce of strength had left me limp on the ground, gasping for air. Only the volleys of gunfire got me to roll over and scan the ground below. The sounds were closer now, more distinct, with each weapon sending its signature rhythm echoing out into the valley below. The dull crump of mortars mingling with the rapid blam blam blam of M1s and the slower but steady cracks of the bolt-action Arisakas.

  “Up there,” Johnston said as he swept the hills with his binoculars, one arm extended to the next ridgeline. I could see the explosions, small bursts in the thick green cover. Those were the mortars, but it was impossible to tell whose or where the opposing forces were. Directly below us, stretching off to our left, was the plantation we’d glimpsed earlier: rows of coconut trees extending to the river’s edge, undulating with the landscape, cresting over a small hill below us. At the edges, the jungle had already begun encroaching on the cleared land, tall shoots of tiger grass overcoming the palm trees and erasing the precision of the planted rows.

  “Look!” Kaz said. “There, a man running between the palms.”

  I saw him. Darting from tree to tree for cover and looking over his shoulder each time. The Sten gun dangling from his shoulder. The dirty khakis, the slouch hat.

  “That’s Porter,” Johnston said, finding him with his binoculars. I didn’t correct him. He ordered two men to hustle ahead and intercept him before he got to the river. The rest of us followed slowly, fanning out in the brush, alert for any signs of the enemy.

  “Do you think he is running away?” Kaz asked as we pushed aside tiger grass, its sharp edges slicing at our fingers.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Where would he run to? And why wait this long? Seems like he’s coming from a helluva fight.” Choiseul seemed a million miles away from Tulagi. Here, the Japanese were the terrible and immediate threat. I had to remind myself of Daniel Tamana and how his young life was cut short; Sam Chang, and how he survived months hiding in the jungle only to be killed in his hospital bed; and Deanna Pendleton, knifed in a filthy alleyway. The man who called himself Silas Porter was a killer far more dangerous than the enemy. He killed his own kind, and for nothing but lucre.

  We finally broke through the tiger grass, the entire platoon spreading out to advance into the grove of trees. Ahead, I saw that the two runners had caught up with Porter, who was seated on a fallen palm tree, drinking from his canteen. I held Kaz by the arm and we stood back as Johnston, Ariel, and the radioman approached Porter.

  “Where’s the G Company radio team?” I heard Porter ask Johnston. “They’re supposed to be across the river.”

  “Gallaher?” Johnston asked. Porter nodded, a frown forming on his face as he worked it out. “Dead. The Japs got him alive.”

  “Bastards,” Porter spat. “Does your radio work? We had another set with us, but it crapped out.”

  “Sure,” Johnston said. “What’s the situation up there?”

  The radioman took the heavy pack off and he and another marine began fiddling with it. As they knelt, Porter caught sight of Kaz and me.

  “Boyle! What the hell are you two doing here?” His face revealed nothing but surprise. Either he had a good poker face, or was too exhausted to realize why we were with the marines.

  “Never mind us,” I said with a smile I didn’t feel. “Lieutenant Johnston needs a briefing.”

  “Yes, of course,” Porter said. “Kari and I, along with two scouts, guided Major Bigger and his men to Choiseul Bay. It took us a damn sight longer than we expected. Tough going if you keep off the trails. We attacked a Jap base and surprised them, did a lot of damage. Then we pulled back into the jungle and began to encounter patrols coming in from the eastern shore. That’s when John was wounded along with one of the scouts. The other was killed.”

  “Are there many casualties?” Johnston asked.

  “Three dead, about a dozen wounded,” Porter said. “The biggest problem is the radio. When the Japs hit us a few hours ago, Bigger sent me to try and make contact with our radio team across the river.”

  “To call in the landing craft, I assume,” Johnston said.

  “Yes. We’re being pressed hard right now. The major figured if the Japs occupied the river mouth, the LCs would never be able to get in and pick us up. Did you have any trouble?”

  “No,” Johnston said. “We crossed further upstream after we found Gallaher. No sign of the other men, or the radio, for that matter.”

  “Can you radio for a pickup now? I’ll head back and let the major know,” Porter said, looking anxious to leave our company. Johnston nodded and ordered the radioman to make contact with the landing craft. Then he called for a corpsman.

  “Lieutenant, there’s some urgency here,” Porter said, his eyes darting nervously between Johnston and me. “Major Bigger’s held off the Japs so far, but they’re bringing in more troops and nearly have him surrounded. He didn’t want to make a break for the river until he knew the landing craft would be there. Otherwise they’d be cut to pieces with their backs to the water.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of everything,” Johnston said. “Give our Coastwatcher friend some Atrabine and salt tablets, Corpsman. Can’t take chances with malaria and dehydration out here. How’s G Company fixed for medical supplies?”

  “Running short on these things,” Porter said, accepting the pills and the proffered canteen. I figured Johnston was deliberately giving me an opening, so I stepped in while he had the canteen raised to his lips and relieved him of the Sten gun hanging loosely off his shoulder.

  “What the bloody hell!” Porter roared. “Give that back. Are you mad?”

  “Not me,” I said, holding the Sten on Porter. Kaz darted in and took the .38 revolver out of Porter’s holster. Even though I knew his real name now, Porter stuck with me.

  “Lieutenant Johnston, are you going to let this idiot get away with this?” Porter’s face turned red and his eyes widened, rage building up inside him. “There’s a company of marines that needs help up in those hills.”

  “The knife,” I said. “Drop it on the ground.”

  “I will not, not until you explain yourself, damn you.” Veins bulged on his neck, his hands balled into trembling fists.

  “Josh Coburn is alive and well,” I said, stepping closer, the short barrel of the Sten gun aimed at his belly. “It’s all over.”

  The fight went out of him. His face collapsed, the rage dissipating in the heat of the sun and the burning truth. There was still a witness alive. His deception and his crimes were out in the open. He fumbled weakly for the knife, not even realizing that Ariel had stepped in silentl
y and slipped it out of its sheath.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Dig in!” Johnston commanded. “Set up the thirty-caliber over here.” The machine-gun team hurried forward with their gear and began digging out a firing pit with their entrenching tools. We were on the crest of the hillock we’d spotted from the ridgeline. It had a good field of fire covering the coconut grove, with a commanding view of the route to the river. The slope was a tangle of fallen trees, and Kaz and I helped to drag several of the trunks to the crest to help shield the machine-gun nest.

  “What’s the plan, Lieutenant?” I asked Johnston as I took a gulp from my canteen, careful not to spill a drop. The late-day sun was still withering on the exposed hilltop.

  “Anything more from Porter?” Johnston said, sitting on the edge of the foxhole he’d excavated.

  “Nope,” I said. “Just the general direction of G Company, and that he ought to be the one to contact them.” Porter was slumped glumly against a log, his legs stretched out in front of him, oblivious to the work going on around him.

  “He is playing his last card,” Kaz said, wiping the sweat that dripped into his eyes. “There is a chance he is sincere about getting back to Major Bigger, but if so, I wouldn’t trust him one second after he does so.”

  “Agreed,” Johnston said. “Making contact with Bigger is too important to leave to the likes of him. I’ll take Ariel and another man and go myself.”

  “You won’t make it,” Porter said, his voice dull and low, his eyes on Johnston. “Send me.”

  “Not happening,” Johnston said.

  “When are the landing craft coming?” I asked.

  “Oh-seven-hundred,” he said. “It’s too late to bring them in today; we’d never get G Company here in time. So the plan is I make contact now, then we come back through here at first light, and head for the landing area. My platoon will provide covering fire and be the rear guard if we’re pursued. Then everyone goes home.”

  “You’ll be pursued,” Porter said. “We should bring them back tonight, quietly, in small groups.”

  “Negative,” Johnston said, without looking at Porter. He handed his binoculars to Sergeant Trent. “Trent is in charge while I’m gone. I’ll see you fellas bright and early.”

  We wished him luck, and waved to Ariel as he jogged off with Johnston and the sergeant who’d wielded the Aussie commando knife. Kaz and I finished scraping out a trench behind one of the coconut logs, and pulled Porter in with us.

  “They’ll kill him in no time,” Porter said. “Why don’t you send me? I’m a dead man anyway.”

  “Shut up,” I said.

  Kaz rummaged in his musette bag and came up with three cans of chopped ham and eggs, and a supply of crackers. Porter looked surprised when Kaz handed him his share, but took it eagerly.

  “I’m not an evil man, you know,” he said, running his finger around the edges of the can to get the last of the egg mix. “Just a bloke from Sydney who started down a road without thinking about where it might end.”

  “You murdered three people on Tulagi,” I said. “Not to mention the deaths you caused on Pavau.”

  “That wasn’t my fault,” he said. “At least not directly.”

  “What really happened?” Kaz asked, using a few drops of precious water to rinse his fingers. Ever fastidious.

  “What I told you before was true enough,” he said, licking his fingers. “Except it was me who went to hide the boat and Silas Porter who gathered the workers together. They were scared, having heard stories about the Japs on Bougainville. No one wanted to stay.”

  “You took Porter’s Ross rifle,” I said.

  “Right. He gave it to me to take away so the Japs wouldn’t find any weapons in his house. On my way back, I saw Japs coming up the road from the dock. They had two natives in tow, and it looked to me like they were being forced to carry supplies. They were stooped over with heavy packs on their backs. One of them tripped, and this Jap officer took out his sword and chopped his head off. For tripping.”

  “So you shot him,” Kaz said.

  “I did. Without thinking. I was ahead of them, in the bush along the roadside. Good concealment, only a hundred yards or so. Put the bastard down with one shot. But then I realized what I’d done, and tried to get back to warn the others.”

  “Doesn’t seem like you did,” I said.

  “No, I couldn’t get there, even though I tried my best. If I’d taken the road, they would have spotted me. I hoped the shot would have alerted the others, but even so, I tried to make it through the bush. About a quarter mile out, I checked the road and saw the Japs coming at a trot. I figured I’d riled them up plenty, and they were looking for anyone to take it out on. I fired one shot wild, to slow them down, but that only got them screaming and running faster.”

  “So you ran off,” Kaz said.

  “Yes! I ran, and no man can say he’d have done different, unless he was there. I didn’t mean for it to happen like that, but it did. I ran into the nearest grove and climbed a coconut tree. I watched Silas stand in front of his workers, trying to protect them. The Japs killed them all, shooting and bayoneting everyone. They set fire to the main house after that. Their blood was up, and it was likely my fault.”

  “Likely?” I said.

  “Well it was, I guess, but you never know with the Japs. I heard in some places they were almost polite to the plantation owners. In other places, they burned them out. So the same thing might have happened even if I’d never pulled the trigger.”

  “Either way, you decided to take advantage of the situation,” I said.

  “Yeah, I did. Silas didn’t have any family I knew of, and no friends, really. The only visitors had been Josh Coburn and Sam Chang. Josh had set off for Bougainville the day before the Japs invaded, so I figured him for a goner. I’m kind of glad to hear he’s alive, even if it did bugger me. He’s a good old bloke. As for Chang, I heard the Japs were murdering Chinese everywhere they found them. So why not take a chance? Folks aren’t big on paperwork in the Solomons, so I decided I’d take over as Silas Porter and work the plantation after the war. A fresh start, after I’d done my bit.”

  “So far, you have only committed the crime of fraud,” Kaz said. “What made you decide to become a murderer?”

  “Take a look at that sky,” he said, arching his head back and sighing. The sun was edging low, tinging the thin clouds with streaks of orange, the sea sparkling in the distance. “I wanted a peaceful life, with money and the beauty of these islands around me. I couldn’t face going back to Sydney after the war. I didn’t want to die a broken man, like my father, his health ruined after a lifetime of factory labor, his legs crippled.”

  “Luckman told us your father had been in an accident,” I said.

  “Yeah, a lorry backed into him, crushed his legs. It was a contractor’s vehicle leaving after a delivery, and Luckman claimed my dad had been negligent in stepping behind it, so it wasn’t the company’s responsibility. Best he would do was to give me dad’s job, so I could earn enough to provide some care for him. I took it, of course, hating every minute of working in that damned, sweltering factory.”

  “And you left after your father died,” I said, trying to feel some pity for him.

  “Yes, I wanted to start over. When the Japs came along, it was like everything fell into my lap. I knew that after the war I could rebuild and work hard, hard enough to turn a profit and sell the plantation.”

  “But any buyer would want a deed, some proof that they owned the property,” Kaz said.

  “I knew that,” he said. “Before I left I’d helped Silas bury his strongbox. It held cash, the deed to the property, a few gold coins, some other papers. All I had to do was come back after the war and dig it up. I thought I had everything worked out. When Daniel Tamana came along and threatened to ruin everything, I snapped. I surprised myself, r
eally.” He shrugged, as if admitting to a minor character flaw.

  “He recognized you,” Kaz said.

  “Yes, but he wasn’t about to go running to the authorities. He wanted my old job when the war ended. Said he knew what it took for a man to succeed out here, and he wanted his share.”

  “You went along with it,” I said. “Lured him to the beach.”

  “Yeah, and I might have made that deal with him. There’s enough work to go around, and he seemed eager enough. We went to the beach separately, so no one would suspect we had any connection. But then he told me about Sam Chang, and how if I double-crossed him, he’d get Sam to confirm his story and take it to the authorities. Well, that was that. I couldn’t trust him if he was going to blackmail me. Who knows what he would have demanded next?”

  “So you hit him on the head with your Australian commando knife and then threw it into the water,” I said.

  “Damn, Boyle, you are a detective. That’s right. I didn’t plan it, really. It was like my anger took over, and suddenly the knife was in my hand, Daniel gazing out to sea, and then he was dead on the ground. It sickened me, to tell the truth. But after that, I couldn’t leave Chang as a loose end. I had to eliminate that threat as well. Very distasteful, but it left me safe and secure.”

  “Why did you kill Deanna?” I asked, my voice soft and soothing, wanting the details to keep coming.

  “Oh God, that was awful. I called the signals section from Sesapi, the day you showed up there. I got Gordie on the telephone. He mentioned that Deanna was on the prowl, looking for some Chinese woman. I knew exactly what that meant; she was looking for the Chang sisters. She and Daniel had been friendly, and I figured he’d blabbed the story to her. So when Gordie told me he was dropping her off in Chinatown, I took my chance.”

  “You met her there, and killed her in that alley,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “I’d sent Kari off on an errand, and I knew if I acted quickly, I could be back at the dock before he returned.” His face clouded over, the pain and guilt overcoming his desire to tell us how clever he was. I’d seen this before, the criminal’s need of an audience to appreciate his audacity and skill, to share his belief in his own superior intelligence.