The White Pearl (57 page)

She hadn’t thought of that. She looked around her at the telltale scarlet smears. ‘Let’s move.’

‘You are brave,’ he said simply.

She saw in his face that he understood how much she had left behind for him, how desperate she was to return to Teddy. Together
they started to move cautiously through the grass that waved above their heads in the humid breeze from the river, his arm
heavy on her shoulders, her hand gripping his naked back. She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t brave, that she had left
a man dead on a riverbank once before and she wasn’t going to do it again. She wanted to tell him that this time it was different,
that this time she had refused to let him die.

But she didn’t mention any of these things. She let them lie like stones in her stomach, and told him instead that if he didn’t
hobble a damn sight faster they would be fishfood long before nightfall.

Fitz knew his jungle. It was his domain. He guided Connie down hidden gulleys and through solid green walls of vegetation
to find the faintest animal trails that made the going easier. The flies and leeches thickened as they pushed further inland
and the air grew more humid, until it had a body and weight that Connie felt she could cut into slices with Fitz’s knife.

‘You must rest now,’ she told him.

He glared at her from under his dark eyebrows each time she said those words, but she insisted.

‘I don’t want you to bleed to death on me,’ she said.

‘I don’t intend to die,’ he said. ‘Not yet, anyway.’

Though he spoke quietly, there was something savage in his eyes. She knelt at his side. ‘What is it?’

He looked utterly weary, his eyes half closed as though he would shut out the world. She was aware of how many friends he
had seen die that day.

‘The Japanese did not invade this island by chance,’ he said. ‘They must have had a good reason to come here.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Something … or someone … led them to us.’

‘Who?’

‘My guess is that it was that wastrel, Madoc.’

‘What? No, he would never do such a …’

‘Hush.’ He placed a finger over her lips and smiled faintly. ‘You have too much faith in people, Connie.’ He stroked her chin
with his thumb. ‘Not everyone is like you.’

‘Why would Madoc do such a thing?’

‘You know I told you that your Japanese pilot was killed in the hold of the
Burung Camar
last night?’

She nodded.

‘I think Madoc slit his throat.’

Her mouth fell open. ‘No.’

I suspect he went out there under cover of darkness for the radio. And had to silence the Jap to keep him quiet.’

‘What radio?’

‘Behind a panel in the boat’s hold, I keep a short-wave radio. Madoc must have found out about it from one of the crew – I
could tell this morning that it had been disturbed – and for some reason he decided to send out a message to someone.’

‘No, I can’t believe it was Madoc. He would never betray us to the Japs. You know how he hates them. Maybe it was Nurul himself,
and maybe he killed the pilot.’

Fitz gave a short laugh. ‘No, not Nurul. Connie, it is the look in a man’s eye that tells you what is in his soul, not his
slippery words. I don’t mean that Madoc would betray us to the Japs intentionally, but they monitor all radio traffic and
their direction-finders trace transmissions. He could have radioed someone in Singapore and told them about this place.’

Connie put her hand over her mouth. ‘You really think it was him?’

He leaned forward and placed his lips on the back of her hand. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘Poor old Henry Court bought it when
The White Pearl
went up,’ Johnnie Blake said with a sombre tug of his earlobe. ‘God rest his soul.’ His eyes looked sick.

Bought it? Went up?

Madoc groaned. What the hell was the matter with people like Blake? Why the need to speak in code? What was wrong with saying
it straight?

‘A Jap bomb blew Court to pieces,’ Madoc spelled it out clearly for them. He saw the lad, Teddy, wince and his eyes fill with
dismay. ‘Don’t worry, kid, your mother will be OK. Fitzpayne will get her to safety, you can bet on that.’

Like hell he will. They are most likely both already lying dead in the jungle with bullets in their backs and ants in their
eyes.

‘Please,’ Teddy begged, ‘we must sail back to the island.’

‘Too late for that,’ Madoc answered. ‘Look around you.’

The
Burung Camar
was carrying full sail and, with an empty hull, was flying away from the island like a cat with its tail on fire. Nurul was
squeezing every scrap of speed out of his boat to find somewhere safe to tuck her under cover before more Jap planes came
screaming out of the sun. An unpleasant swell was running across their bow, but the fresh north-westerly filling the
pinisiq
’s eight sails drove them beyond reach of any binoculars on the island’s shores, so that Madoc felt the hairs on the back
of his neck settle down at last.

Nurul was a skipper of few words, which suited Madoc just fine. He told his passengers nothing. His crew of three consisted
of Madoc’s two gambling companions from his days with Kitty on
The White Pearl
, while waiting for repairs, and also a new Javanese with a woman’s golden skin and a huge belly that shook when he laughed.
And he laughed whenever one of the white people spoke to him. Razak was the only one Big Belly deigned to talk to, so it was
Razak who came to them with the information that they would be returning to the island at nightfall.

‘No,’ Madoc stated flatly. ‘I’m not going back there. It’s crawling with Japs.’

A desperate ‘Yes!’ burst out of Teddy.

Johnnie Blake came over to Madoc and drew him out of earshot. Madoc knew exactly what was coming.

‘Look, Morgan, it’s not just for the boy. Mrs Hadley and Mr Fitzpayne are part of our …’ for one hideous moment Madoc
thought he was going to say
our squadron
, ‘… part of our team, and we don’t ditch members of our team. It’s not honourable.’

‘For Christ’s sake, Blake, you and I know they are as good as dead by now.’

‘It’s possible, yes. But I hope that’s not true. They are both,’ he struggled for the right word, ‘resourceful people.’

Resourceful.
Madoc could think of other words for Fitzpayne, and
bloody-minded
was one of them. The Japs were welcome to him.

‘I suggest,’ Blake continued, ‘that we discuss it with Nurul. You speak Malay, so you …’

‘Nurul is not the kind of man open to suggestions, Flight Lieutenant. If we want to change his mind, we have to kill him.’

‘Good God, Madoc. You are barbaric.’

‘I’m alive. That’s what counts. And I intend to stay that way.’

‘You and your wife could always leave us. I’m sure Nurul would be more than happy for you to disembark on whatever island
he seeks shelter in.’

Madoc heard in the man’s voice the desire concealed scrupulously behind the veneer of politeness – the desire to be rid of
him for good.
Not the right class, old chap. A bit off-stump when it comes to values.
Bitterness burrowed into Madoc’s flesh like the black head of a leech, and he looked around the deck for Kitty. She was further
aft, talking quietly with Nurul, their heads close together. She was taller than the pirate and twice as wide, but the wrinkles
of his face were screwed up in an expression of pure delight. He kept casting sideways glances at Kitty’s luscious breasts
and darting his tongue across his lips, while Kitty rubbed her backside against the mizzen like a bitch on heat.

Madoc let his hand slide to the Russian gun hidden in his waistband – it felt good to his fingers, hard, brutal and unforgiving.
Like himself. He smiled with satisfaction, and knew that today was the day he would use it. So why, when he looked across
again at Kitty and saw her jut her breasts almost into Nurul’s gold teeth, did he feel sick in his gut?

‘Shall I tell you why Nurul helps the God Almighty Fitzpayne?’ Kitty asked. She was biting into a peach.

Madoc shook his head. He didn’t want to know. And he didn’t like the way Nurul was sharing not just his peaches with Kitty,
but his secrets as well. How many secrets was she sharing with him in return?

‘Don’t sulk, Madoc. You look like a five-year-old.’

She laughed easily, tipping back her throat, making Nurul lift his head at the far end of the boat as though his ears were
fine-tuned to her voice. But Kitty’s eyes didn’t laugh. They were moody and withdrawn, and they frightened the hell out of
Madoc.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to know.’

‘Well, I’m going to tell you anyway.’

The sky was vermilion behind her, setting fire to her hair. Nightfall was only minutes away, and Nurul was preparing to set
sail from the river mouth into which he had squeezed the
Burung Camar
for what had remained of the day.

‘He carried Nurul’s wife,’ Kitty said.

‘Who?’

‘Fitzpayne. She was heavily pregnant and in terrible pain, and he carried her on his back for ten miles through the jungle
to a hospital while Nurul was away at sea.’

Madoc definitely didn’t want to know.

‘She survived,’ Kitty continued relentlessly, ‘and bore a healthy son. But five years ago they both died of malaria.’

‘So Nurul has no wife? He’s probably on the lookout for another.’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Madoc, don’t be so piss-brained.’

But he wasn’t being piss-brained. Something dark and chilling was going on behind his wife’s eyes.

‘What is it, Kitty?’

She looked at him, her eyes like beads of oil in the descending darkness. ‘He says you betrayed us to the Japs.’

‘Kitty, that’s insane. You know I’d never do that.’

‘I know.’ She didn’t look at him.

‘So why the fuck do you believe him and not me?’

For a moment her gaze shifted to the native girl who was standing beside Flight Lieutenant Blake, massaging his bad shoulder
with small, eager hands.

‘I believe him,’ Kitty said quietly, but he wanted her to shout and cuff him the way she’d done a thousand times before in
arguments. ‘I believe him,’ she continued, ‘because he saw you.’

‘What?’

‘He saw you swim out to this boat at night. The Jap pilot’s throat was cut and the radio used, he says.’ At last she looked
him in the eye. ‘Was it you?’

‘Yes, I admit that. The pilot got in the way. I told you that we could get good money for passing on information to the British
authorities in Singapore about what the set-up was on that island. So I …’

‘They traced it. Your transmission was traced. That’s how the Japs knew where to come. It all happened because of you, all
those lives slaughtered, so many children killed. So much death. All that destruction was caused because you would not be
satisfied with just taking a boat to sail. You had to have more. It was just greed. Oh, Madoc, Madoc …’

Never before, not ever, had she spoken like that to him. It wasn’t the words – sometimes they had shouted worse at each other
– it was the desperate sadness in her voice, that look of finality in her eyes. It sent terror darting through his bowels.
He gripped her wrist.

‘Kitty, I didn’t mean to. You know I hate the Japanese as much as you do, especially now.’ He stopped. She was shaking her
head.

‘Madoc, we have to let Nurul go back to try to find Fitzpayne and Mrs Hadley.’

‘No, I won’t allow it. We agreed, Kitty.’

‘I know it’s risky, but enough is enough, Madoc.’ She touched his chest, just over his heart, and gave him an odd smile. ‘Let’s
salvage what we can from this. The kid needs his mother.’

‘I tell you, we’re not going back there.’

She stepped away from him into the velvet darkness that was creeping along the deck. ‘Nurul might have something to say about
that. But,’ she shrugged, ‘he might reconsider if I ask him nicely to …’

‘No,’ Madoc said sharply. ‘I don’t want you near Nurul any more.’

He didn’t mean it to happen this way. He didn’t want to do it without her by his side, watching his back. But without a word
he walked over to where Nurul was busy coiling rope and listening to the Hadley kid who was speaking to him in low, urgent
tones. Madoc drew out the Tokarev pistol and pointed it straight at the pirate’s chest.

‘Nurul, hoist those bloody wings of yours. I want us to set sail.’

Nurul’s sharp eyes shifted from Madoc to the gun and back again. His gold teeth flashed warily. ‘To where?’

‘To India.’

They climbed higher to cross the centre of the island, and deep mist hung over everything like the breath of the earth itself,
deadening the clamour of the jungle. It painted the leaves with a metallic sheen and muted the vibrant colours of the huge
butterflies, turning them into ghosts that wheeled through the air. Connie adapted a branch into a crutch to aid Fitz, but
she saw each step take its toll. It was time to rest again.

‘Will the Japanese come this far?’

‘Yes,’ Fitz said, ‘I’m afraid they will. I’m sorry Connie,’ he turned his head to study her face, ‘but nowhere is going to
be safe on this island now. The Japanese are very thorough. They are experts at jungle warfare.’

Connie could hear the respect in his voice. She had seated them side by side on a rock at the base of a stubby waterfall,
their feet in a pool of green water. She had bathed his wounds again, her fingernails stained pink, and rinsed out the bandages
that were soaked with blood.

‘Your whole world has changed,’ he said softly, and drew her against him.

Her arms slid around his back, holding him safe, feeling the heat of his skin seep into her own, becoming a part of her.

‘Not just my world, Fitz. We all know it’s the end of Western domination of the Far East. The whole Empire is starting to
crumble, so we are all going to have to change, whether we like it or not.’

He kissed the side of her head and she heard him inhale the scent of her, the sweat, the dirt and the fear.

‘And do you like it, the idea of change?’

The question was not asked as if it mattered, just tossed out as though it were no more than a passing curiosity. But Connie
knew just what it meant, and how much it mattered. She entwined her fingers with his.