Blood Is a Stranger (38 page)

‘Probably right, and you were used by Perdonny to destabilise Utun's regime. If you had been caught, it would have upset Utun's relations with the Americans.'

‘Maybe. But I wanted to go after Chan. Perdonny backed me all the way and followed through.'

There was an uneasy silence. Cardinal asked Webb if he was thinking of going into Kampuchea.

‘Yeah, I am giving it thought.'

‘Why?'

‘I used to be in the SAS,' he said. ‘I went on innumerable two, sometimes, one-man patrols in Vietnam and
Kampuchea. I know the terrain. I reckon a good reccy could be done to see if we could get Van der Holland, and your son — if he's there – out.'

‘I'll come with you,' Cardinal said, his eyes rivetted on Webb.

‘Look, mate,' he said, with a fatherly smile, ‘I admire your guts. But you've been through a lot. Hell, it's only a week since you were half-dead.'

‘It's two weeks since the torture,' Cardinal said. ‘Sure I'm still a bit sore here and there, but I'm running and swimming and exercising daily. Within a week, I'll be good as new.'

Webb's smile faded. ‘No, it would be too dangerous,' he said. ‘Besides, I'd never be given time off.'

‘I thought you were your own man,' Cardinal goaded him. ‘Why can't you just take leave? You said yourself you wanted to go in.'

‘It's not on, mate,' Webb said as if to terminate the subject: just as their main fish courses were served. ‘You would be better off returning to your art gallery.'

Cardinal thought his tone snide. But he was used to Webb's nature.

‘I'll send you a dirty postcard,' Webb said, ‘if we learn anything about Harry.'

‘Well, God bugger me dead!' The stooped and wiry Willow Wilson muttered as he ushered Rhonda into his terrace home in Preston near Melbourne, a single-fronted red brick, with a tiny, neat garden on busy Kramer Street. His skin was leathery from years exposed to the scorching sun. A cigarette hung from one corner of his mouth.

‘You're doin' a story on Ken Cardinal?' he said. He introduced Rhonda to his jut-jawed wife Raelene.

‘We would like you to talk about him,' Rhonda said, settling on a floral sofa. ‘What he was like in the Korean war:

Rhonda accepted an offer of tea from Raelene. Wilson lifted the top off a Fosters bottle.

‘You going to put this on the telly?' the man asked. ‘Jeez, I better be careful what I say.'

‘He'll blather his mouth off for you,' his wife assured Rhonda, ‘no worries.'

‘I got some pictures out for you,' he said. ‘Want to see them?'

‘Great!' Rhonda said. While Wilson fossicked in a drawer, she looked around the room. There were framed shots of Australian sports heroes.

‘That's Cardinal,' he said. He stood over her, smelling of sweat and tobacco. ‘He had more guts than a tennis racket factory. We were mates.' He pointed to others. ‘That's me, and that's me other mate, Ernie Stone.'

‘Can we use these in the story?'

‘Yeah, no worries, as long as I get ‘em back.'

‘Of course.'

‘What do you want to know?' Wilson said. He sat on a rocking chair. His eyes flicked to the cricket on the television.

‘First of all,' Rhonda asked, ‘what was he like? What were your impressions of Cardinal?'

‘A really good bloke. The best. The sort of guy you would trust with your life. And 1 bloody did a couple of times. He saved my life, twice.'

‘Really?'

‘Cardinal and I were captured when our platoon crossed the Taedong River into Pyongyang – North Korea's capital.'

‘What were you doing in an American platoon?'

‘I was a deserter from the Aussie army,' he guffawed. He poured himself more beer. ‘We all rushed to the frontline. Anyway, we were captured, sec. We were ambushed. Couple of days later two Koreans marched us up a hill to shoot us, right? Shoot us so that we fell into a mass grave.'

Rhonda kept thinking how this would look on camera.
Her eye told her that Willow Wilson would be a winner. He sipped his beer and coughed hard.

‘Ken said something like, “They're going to bump us off up there,” see, and this Korean prods him with his bayonet, and Ken says,“I'll take the bigger one on my right.” See, the Koreans didn't know what we were saying, but they didn't want us talking.'

‘How did you feel?'

‘How did I feel? Jesus! I was petrified. My brain was going numb, and I kept saying to myself, This is it, mate! Your number's come up in the frame. Willow Wilson, retired hurt, one bullet in the head!'

Rhonda couldn't help smiling.

‘I remember my knees knocking when we reached that grave. A lot of bodies, well, the flesh was gone. They were bones. I wanted to turn and run, but my legs wouldn't have carried me.'

‘What was Cardinal doing?'

‘He was dragging his feet, see. He was pretending to be, well, lethargic, like he was resigned to what was about to happen. Then he struck like a bloody lightning bolt. He kicked one of the Koreans in the nuts and went for his throat. This distracted the other one long enough for me to jump him. I ran him through with his own bayonet. Cardinal throttled this guy, strangled him.' He sipped his beer in silence.

‘Then we threw their bodies into the grave,' he said, ‘where we should have been.'

‘And then?'

‘Then we pissed off, but we were captured again by the Chinese, on 26 November 1950. I remember it well because all the Americans were celebrating Thanksgiving when the Chinese hit us. And I mean hit. That was the battle of Kuni-Ri. A few days later we were smashed again at Changchon River. The Chinese took thousands of prisoners. Cardinal collected two or three bullets, as I recall. At least one in each leg, anyhow.'

Wilson stared blankly at the television. ‘We were driven like cattle in sub-zero temperatures across mountains into Manchuria.'

The Death March.'

‘That's the one. About half of us survived. A lot died in the camp we ended up in. That was where Cardinal
really
saved me. A lot of prisoners cracked and confessed to war crimes. But Cardinal taught me bloody calculus! He burnt it into my brain forever. Me, a dummy that left school at thirteen! It kept our minds on other things. He was a terrific inspiration. Psyched some of us to resist our interrogators. And it worked. We never lost morale.' His voice trailed off as if he had dried up. Wilson looked straight at Rhonda. ‘Do you want me to go on?'

‘Please.'

‘I was wondering how you found me?'

‘Cardinal had your address. He is in Sydney.'

‘Love to see him.'

‘When this story is put together.'

‘That's great. How is he?'

‘Alive, thanks to your nephew. Ken wanted to let you know that Spider Webb saved his life.' Rhonda stopped.

‘Nephew? I haven't got a nephew.'

Rhonda looked at Raelene. ‘Your wife's brother's son . . .”

Wilson's wife shook her head. ‘Raelene hasn't got a brother. What was this guy's name again?'

After sprinting along the beach, Cardinal raced Webb into the choppy surf. A handful of board-riders were braving the waters further out. The two men struggled to beat the vicious under-tow that had closed the beach for the morning.

Cardinal quit first. He lay heaving on the sand: Webb battled on.

‘You're no iron man,' Webb said to Cardinal when he
came out, ‘but considering your age and what you've been through, I'm surprised.'

‘Thanks, Hercules,' said Cardinal, saluting. He unwrapped a cigar.

‘They won't help,' Webb said.

‘I only smoke five or six a week,' Webb said.

‘How virtuous.'

‘Why did you get out so quickly?' Webb asked, with a nod at the surf.

‘Being bumped against the sand dampened my enthusiasm.'

Webb eyed him from behind sunglasses.

‘What did you want to see me about?' Cardinal asked.

‘Kampuchea.'

‘What about it?'

Webb pointed. ‘Well look there. One of nature's most perfect life forms.'

Cardinal shielded his eyes. He could make out a fin carving through the water beyond the surfers. ‘Jesus! We had better warn them!' He looked up the beach. There was no one on duty.

‘Calm down, Kenny boy,' Webb said. He leant back on his elbows. ‘They can probably see it. Besides, it's too late now if it wants breakfast.'

Cardinal dashed to the water's edge. He waved his arms, shouted and watched in horror as the shark skimmed closer to the three surfers, who were oblivious to any danger.

‘No need getting in a panic,' Webb said with a big laugh. ‘I told you they couldn't hear!'

The shark was moving ever closer and seemed to be out of the surfers' line of vision. Because of the turbulent water, they appeared to be preoccupied with staying on their boards and watching for a decent wave.

Cardinal sprinted along the water's edge, waving and yelling. He ran up a path and scrambled up a rock face to a vantage point. Cardinal hurled stones and yelled. He
moved higher, into the surfers' line of vision. One of them looked up and saw him. He struggled his way towards another board. Soon all three had spotted the shark, which was weaving among them. They caught whatever surf escalator they could into shore and away from the shark.

Cardinal walked down to the water's edge to meet the surfers. They hurled their boards on the sand. All of them thank Cardinal laconically but there was no mistaking their gratitude.

‘Well, well,' Webb said. ‘Done our good deed for the day, have we?'

Cardinal sat down and lit another cigar.

‘You bastard! You couldn't have cared a damn!'

‘Those creeps know the dangers,' Webb said dismissively. ‘You can't play mother to everyone. If they want to go out that far on a no-surf day, then fuck ‘em!'

The surfers took off their wet suits and laid them on their boards to dry in the wind. They pointed out to sea. The shark had disappeared.

‘You watch those pricks,' Webb said. ‘They'll be out there again soon.'

Cardinal rolled over on to his elbows to face him. ‘You mentioned Kampuchea.'

‘Yeah,' said Webb. ‘I'm going.'

Cardinal puffed on the cigar.

‘When?'

‘Two days, maybe three. We've heard that a couple of likely Froggies have booked a trip to Bangkok. Air France, first class.' He added wistfully,'The Frogs always do it in style. The French hosties are the best after Gulf Air.' He grinned at Cardinal. ‘I'm going to have a little gander. They tell me the fun places are the refugee camps along the Thai – Kampuchea border. Best whores in South-East Asia.'

‘What do you plan to do there?'

‘If the weather's good, I might go Frog-hunting. Wonderful
sport. Oddly enough, the last time I did that I went via Gulf Air to Oman. Picked up the best bloody hostess you've ever seen. A tremendous bird.'

Cardinal watched the surfers donning their wet-suits. They were returning to the water.

‘I was wondering,' Webb said, ‘if you would like to come along?'