Seven Steps to the Sun (16 page)

'It seems stupid of you to play games, but if that's what you want, call me Uncle Tom.'

'This is ludicrous,' said Mike grinning suddenly.

'Perhaps, Mr Jerome, but that smile of yours will stretch from ear to ear unless you listen to a few words of advice,' came the cold icy voice of Uncle Tom. 'This town has been relatively free from serious crime for a number of years now and I have every intention of keeping it that way. So, if your trip here is to start trouble, forget it, and leave quietly while you're still intact.'

'So you had me followed.'

'Just to see what areas of the town you and your lot might be interested in.'

'You're all bloody mad. I just want papers so that I can get out of this place.'

'What kind of papers?' asked Uncle Tom suspiciously.

'A press pass or anything that will allow me into the Northern Territory.'

'Northern Territory. Try the authorities.'

'I haven't time,' Mike barked back.

'That's what they all say. Why do you want to go north?'

'I'm trying to locate a friend and I believe he's up there playing jazz for the Military.'

'All right, Jerome,' the man said abruptly. 'I'll supply papers. If what you've said is lies either they'll get you or I will.'

'I don't want your bloody patch. I'm not usually around long enough at any one time to enjoy the perks of any patch.'

'When do you want them?'

'Tomorrow morning.'

'Tomorrow morning, fine,' said Uncle Tom, as he left the room.

'Where's he gone?' asked Mike, turning to the tail.

'Work on those papers.'

'But he doesn't know anything about me.'

'He soon will,' said the man showing him the door.

Reaching the street, Mike looked carefully up and down and made his way back to the flat. The winter's evening had chilled his whole being. He stood at the window gazing thoughtfully at the night sky, trying to find reassurance in something he knew was real. The evening had started perfectly reasonably, but as the images and people moved before him, he found l hey dissolved like a mirage at each step forward he made. A great wave of loneliness flooded his mind as he struggled for knowledge of this strange void.

He was woken from a dead sleep, by a sharp ringing. He opened his eyes, and looked round. The ringing stopped and a steady thumping started. At length he realized that it must be the front door.

'Morning,' said Uncle Tom.

Mike was so surprised to see the man he just stood there for a moment collecting his thoughts.

'Hello, I didn't expect you so early,' he said, closing the door.

'I reckoned you'd probably not expect me at all this morning.

'Sorry about last night.'

'You mean you can't get my press pass.'

'No. Accusing you of trespassing on my patch. After you'd gone, they brought another fellow in from America. Looked just like you, but he was the one we wanted,' said Uncle Tom happily.

'I'm glad.'

'Yes, very fortunate.'

'Anyway, here they are. Some forged, some genuine,' said the old man taking a bundle of cards from his pocket.

'Thanks.'

'Sorry again for last night,' Uncle Tom said. 'Been eating into me that man had.'

'How much for...?'

'Don't give it another thought, it's by kind courtesy of the Sydney Syndicate.' Uncle Tom waved goodbye from the half-closed door.

'Thanks,' said Mike again as the door closed. Very well informed man, he thought, taking the cards and looking through them. At first he could see no difference between them, then he noticed that some of them had more holes punched in them than the others. He selected a couple of each kind and shoved them in his clothes.

Mike was in the shower when there was more ringing. This time he went straight to the door to find a well-built man in his early fifties.

'Ed Bolton? Come in. Sorry, I was taking a shower,' said Mike, shaking the outstretched hand.

'That's fine, I just called in to say hello before this evening, and to tell you that you're sitting in "C4" next to me at the concert.'

'That sounds great.'

'Should be, and after that on to a party given by the Governor. What are your plans? Gill said she wouldn't be back for a few days and I was to have looked after you, but I am afraid I have got to travel north to arrange some concerts.'

'That's a coincidence,' said Mike, recovering. 'I want to travel north to see an old friend of mine whose playing for the troops.'

'You could always come with me. I am going up with some public relations people from the government,' said Ed generously.

'That's good of you,' said Mike. 'You know, I feel very much at home in this country.'

'I'm glad,' said Ed, smiling happily at the compliment.

'What time is the concert tonight?'

'Starts at eight, they won't open the doors until about a quarter to, so if you can get at the front, you won't be crushed in the rush.'

'How many people do you expect?'

'Fifteen, twenty thousand. I wouldn't worry too much about getting in, just be ready to leave when I say so. I must dash now, otherwise I'll start running late for the rest of the day. Good to meet you, Jerome, I look forward to this evening,' said Ed going to the door.

'I am looking forward to it immensely,' Mike said, opening the door and watching Ed march off down the hall.

He spent the rest of the day preparing to go north. He had a shave and a haircut, and his clothes cleaned in the big automat.

Feeling neat and tidy, he made his way to the lobby of the music centre for a quarter to eight. The mass of people reminded him of one time when he went to a Beatles concert. At the appointed hour the humanity moved forward into the main auditorium. Mike left his safe position by the wall and followed. On reaching the doors to the main hall he was confronted by a metal bar. Just like a car park, thought Mike, as he looked round for Ed Bolton. A man in a uniform came towards him through the crowd.

'You Mr Jerome?'

'Yes,' Mike shouted.

The man beckoned him. He fought his way against the flow of bodies until he caught up with the man who was now standing by a small doorway.

'This way, Mr Jerome,' said the man leading the way into the auditorium, 'third row from the front, "C4".'

Mike manoeuvred himself through the people to his seat and sat down feeling as though he'd just played a strenuous game of squash.

The thunderous applause woke him with a start. He carefully looked from left to right and observed a multitude of hands banging themselves together. Ed Bolton was sitting on the edge of the next seat.

'Come on,' said Ed, getting up. They went quickly backstage while the applause continued. Ed led him down to a dressing-room, 'I'll be back in a moment.'

Mike looked round the room and listened to the terrific noise coming from the hall. It sounded like a stampede. The door burst open and in rushed Ed with the conductor of the orchestra.

'Mike Jerome,' said Ed, 'John Howes.'

'Hello.' The man slid from one set of clothes to another.

'Ready?' asked Ed, breathlessly.

'Right,' said Howes, gathering up his belongings.

The three of them left the room, hurried down a corridor and out onto the river bank. Mike was pushed forward until he saw the water lapping below him. In the dark it took him a moment to realize there was a boat waiting. He stumbled into it, and within seconds they were being driven away. Looking back at the music centre he understood why they had fled, for, as he watched, he caught glimpses of people running along the bank towards the stage door.

'That was a bit close,' observed Mike.

'I'm going to have to do something about it,' mused Ed.

Mike settled down in the stern of the boat while the two men in front of him talked. He shivered as the chill night air started to cool his body. The inside of the hall must have been very hot, and that was why he'd dropped off to sleep. Up in front of them he could just make out a light jutting into the blackness of the river.

'Are you all right?' asked Ed.

'Bloody cold, but apart from that, fine,' said Mike through chattering teeth.

'Won't be long,' came the reply.

The boat made very fast progress to the landing stage and Mike was soon moving quickly up a long lawn towards a palatial house.

'Ed,' came a powerful booming voice as they entered the house.

'Evening, Governor, I see you made it,' Ed said to a big burly man.

'Hello, John, wonderful concert,' said the Governor, shaking hands.

'Governor,' said Ed, 'this is the journalist friend of mine, Mike Jerome.'

'Very welcome,' said the Governor, crushing Mike's hand.

'Thank you,' said Mike, pulling his hand from the vice.

'This way.'

They all went into a vast reception room, where to Mike's immense pleasure he found a large wood fire crackling and smoking to the accompaniment of murmuring voices.

It was an extraordinarily happy and pleasant evening. The whole atmosphere of this Australian party made Mike feel confident that he would find Pete and that everything would be all right from now on.

Mike sat on the plane looking out of the window. A soldier had called for him at the flat and taken him to the military base at Hornsby, where they herded him along with everyone else for the flight. In contrast with his own wonderful spirits, after the very pleasant party and a good night's sleep, Ed had a superb hangover.

Before they took off, the Captain told them that, because of bad weather and high-level turbulence, the aircraft would fly on a slightly longer route. They flew along the coast to Brisbane, then north-west up and out across the wilderness towards the northern territory. The coastline north of Sydney was far more populated than he remembered, but he was amazed by the change in the interior of Queensland. Looking down he saw instead of a barren landscape a beautiful patchwork of colours, large outcrops of yellow and orange sand, intermingled with lush expanses of irrigated green. The pattern of the countryside remained identical until they were two or three hundred miles north of Alice Springs. There, everywhere was green as far as the eye could see.

They arrived at the military base, some three hundred miles east of Darwin, just after lunch. Ed looked a little more alive as he stepped off the plane. The camp commander met them and they were shown to their billets.

'Looks all right,' laughed Mike, as he slewed water over his face.

'One day you'll feel like this, and I shall have great pleasure in ribbing you,' said Ed, still a little high.

'There's a very good cure for hangovers. Next time, before you go to bed, take two anti-cold pills, and I'll bet you wake up feeling reasonably human,' said Mike.

'Isn't that a rather old fashioned remedy?' said Ed, sitting on a cot and looking at him curiously. Mike hastened to cover his mistake.

'What's the programme for the rest of the day?'

'That's what we're going to find out when you're ready.'

'Tell me, were those other fellows journalists?' said Mike, drying his hands.

'Other people,' said Ed in surprise, 'Oh, those men. Yes, they're something to do with the government's publicity campaigns.'

They left Mike's room and walked to another building. Ed opened a door and went into an outer office. A soldier on guard didn't know what to make of Ed, and just let him wander to another door, which he opened and stuck his head round.

'Afternoon, is it all right if I and my friend make an entrance?' Mike heard him say.

'Certainly, Ed, come on in,' came the voice of the Commander.

Mike following him into the office, found all the people from the plane were there, as well as a multitude of top brass. Ed dragged him forward to some seats.

'Gentlemen, we have with us today all the camp Commanders from our outposts up here,' said the Commander, banging a map with his pointer. 'The object of this meeting is to outline your programme. I have suggested to my colleagues that you spend today here and go on to New Guinea tomorrow morning.'

'We'd like to go straight to Pagoria,' someone said from behind Mike.

'Right, tomorrow you'll go to Pagoria, in the afternoon on to Roebourne, spend the night there, and then on to Cairns the following morning. Any questions?' said the Commander, looking into the sea of faces.

'Commander, will we be allowed to go out with the night patrols?' asked a questioner.

'I think I must leave that up to each camp Commander. Here, for instance, I wouldn't want to allow you out, although it might be very instructive.'

'What is the morale of the men like?' asked someone else.

'Not very good, they have had a long frustrating winter. But the politicians are at long last recognizing this fact, and allowing us to arrange concerts and other forms of entertainment. In fact there's a show tonight which I hope you will all attend.'

Mike was just about to stand up and ask who was playing when Ed tugged at his clothes.

'If there are no more questions, I would suggest that you make your way to the information centre, after you've had some refreshments, which will be here in a moment I understand,' said the Commander, turning to a junior officer. 'That's right, sir.'

'What the hell's going on here?' Mike whispered in Ed's ear.

'I told you it's something to do with government publicity.'

'Yes, but I came up here to do a job, not attend a public relations campaign,' said Mike, his voice rising.

'You'll keep your mouth shut until you are asked,' Ed suddenly commanded.