To Ride the Wind (38 page)

‘My time is valuable,’ George snapped, fiddling with a pile of papers on his desk. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I came to see my son, among other things,’ Louise said, preferring to stand in the dark room that smelled of old timber and cigar smoke.

‘You gave up the right to see my son when you left this house,’ George snarled.

‘I have simply been staying with my sister-in-law on a family visit,’ Louise answered mildly. ‘And now I am back.’

‘My son is in good hands with his new nanny,’ George replied.

‘You don’t mean that young girl who met me at the door?’ Louise scoffed.

‘No, Jenny is the sister of the new nanny, a very capable young woman who came with good references,’ George said, pushing the sheets of papers aside and glaring at his estranged wife. ‘I know that you must be here to discuss the eviction of my sister-in-law from the house.’

Louise took a step towards his desk. ‘How could you do it?’ she asked, still desperately attempting to keep her calm, despite seeing her husband through a red haze of hate. ‘Your own brother is killed fighting the King’s enemies, and you sit back here in your comfortable world of dinners and parties with shirker friends as equally as despicable as you, and decide to make the wife of a hero homeless and destitute.’

‘I hear in your words an echo of your crippled lover,’ he said, smirking, feeling that he had the upper hand in what was about to unfold. After all, the real issue in the world was money and how it could be used to obtain power. War was simply an irritating digression in the world of international finance, and those who went off to fight like his father and brother merely idealistic fools.

‘Major Duffy is not a cripple in bed,’ Louise countered. Her words had a stinging effect which registered on her husband’s face as he shifted uncomfortably in his leather chair. But she knew that she must not provoke him in this meeting. Far too much was at stake. ‘But that is not why I am here,’ she continued, attempting to defuse the anger she could see in her husband’s eyes. ‘I have come here to ask you to reconsider evicting Giselle.’

George shook his head. ‘I am sorry, but that is not negotiable. She has a week to get herself, her brat and any of her staff out of the house, or I will have the law do the job for me and that could prove embarrassing for her. I would not be the only landlord in these times to evict the wives and families of dead servicemen from their residences, because they are no longer able to meet the rent.’

‘If I return as your wife would you consider allowing Giselle and her son to remain in their home?’ Louise asked in a quiet voice.

‘No,’ George answered with the trace of a smile. ‘But I would provide Giselle somewhere to live and a small stipend.’ Louise frowned at his answer as George leaned forward to continue. ‘The family has a cattle station in central Queensland called Glen View, currently under the management of a man appointed by my father. He is in need of a housekeeper and I am sure my sister-in law could learn to do what is required if she wishes to have enough money to raise her son. But to return home you would also have to give up your crippled lover – only then will I allow you unlimited access to my son.’

Louise took in all her husband had proposed. If she was living under the same roof as her hated husband she could at least monitor matters concerning Giselle and her son’s welfare. But giving up Sean was something else. ‘That offer of financial security is to also extend to Mr Angus MacDonald,’ she responded. ‘He is to be given employment at Glen View as well.’

For a moment George mused on the possibility of the valet living in the semi-arid lands of central Queensland and remembered the stories he had heard of his father and the old Scot soldiering together in the deserts of the North Africa and the Sudan. Maybe it would be like going home for him to be surrounded by miles of empty land. ‘If he wishes, he may travel with Giselle and I will ensure that he has a home on Glen View. You see, I am not as hard as you may think. But there is nothing to negotiate about that lawyer lover of yours. You return home and desist in ever seeing him again. If you attempt to meet with him I will know, and promise that I will take steps to prevent you ever seeing my son again. You know that I have enough influence to do that.’

Louise knew that her husband was not bluffing and realised, as she stood in the library staring at the collection of Aboriginal spears on the wall behind him, how much she would dearly love to remove one and thrust it through his body. Her gaze returned to him as he sat smugly watching her, waiting for an answer.

‘I will do as you wish,’ she said in a flat voice. ‘You are to provide travel for Giselle, David and Angus to Glen View and ensure that they receive a fair – and even generous – allowance from the Macintosh company funds. In return, I will promise not to see Major Duffy and you will allow me unlimited access to my son.’

George rose from behind his desk. ‘There,’ he said, reaching out to touch her face. Louise recoiled from his touch and he dropped his hand. ‘You see how easy it is to get what you want when you are prepared to discuss things in a civilised manner. I will have one of the company employees go over to the old family home and fetch your things tomorrow morning.’

‘And Jenny?’ Louise spat. ‘What of her?’

‘Do you expect me to put the poor girl out on the streets? Where could she go?’

‘You can put the widow of your brother on the street,’ Louise retorted, knowing full well that the girl would remain as her husband’s plaything.

George turned his back and strode to the large French window to gaze down at Angus standing in the driveway with his brawny arms folded across his broad chest. He had always hated the man and was pleased to be able to exile him to the wilderness. When he had received news that his brother had been killed in action, George had trouble pretending to grieve for his loss and had awkwardly accepted condolences, uttering words such as that Alex had such a promising future. Now, only his father stood in the way. George had already taken steps to cut Patrick out of any interests in the family enterprises by suggesting that he was not demonstrating any real management interest, and therefore that he should be retired if the financial future was to be assured. Very few of the directors of the family’s numerous companies disagreed with his arguments, and steps were already in place to remove Patrick on a generous annual allowance. How much kinder could he be?

‘Well, if there is nothing else, you should be on your way back to discuss the matter we have settled,’ George said to his wife. ‘I feel that much has been achieved between us this evening.’

‘How do you think your father will react when he hears what you have done?’ Louise asked, hoping that the veiled threat might unsettle her husband from his smugness.

‘Oh, I suspect that he will be outraged,’ George said casually. ‘But his opinions no longer carry any weight in the running of the family companies. I have already seen to that.’

Louise turned to walk away. Short of murder, nothing could stop this evil man. She had once been smitten by his debonair demeanour. Now all she could see was a creature as loathsome as any that had been spawned by the devil. As she left the library she heard her husband’s parting words. ‘When I conclude a contract it is final.’

Louise knew exactly what he meant. At least now she could be with her son and have some time to scheme for a future free of George’s influences. How she would do that was still a mystery to her but it would not include Sean Duffy. She had agreed to parting with Sean for she knew that as long as she was linked to the former soldier, his life would be in peril.

Nursing David on her lap as they sat in the drawing room, Giselle listened as Louise explained the deal she had made. ‘I have little choice,’ Giselle finally replied. ‘I suppose it will be a little like living on our plantation when I was growing up.’

‘Angus has agreed – if you accepted the offer – to go with you to Glen View,’ Louise added. ‘I will make sure George keeps his word to pay you an allowance to help in the education and raising of David.’

‘You have always been a wonderful friend, more like a sister,’ Giselle said, stroking her son’s curly locks in a distracted way. ‘I don’t know what we could have done without your help. I was expecting to be on the streets and living in one of those slums.’

‘That will never happen so long as I draw breath,’ Louise said forcefully and, leaning forward, resting her gloved hand on Giselle’s knee. ‘You are my sister for life.’

Giselle broke into tears, confusing her son who slipped from her lap to stare at his mother who was now being hugged by Aunt Louise. But among the tears there was laughter for the small victory Louise had won, and the boy heard the laughter knowing all was well with his world, his father but a dim memory.

Stunned, Sean Duffy read the letter delivered to his office. In her fine handwriting Louise explained that she had decided to return to her husband for the sake of her son – and other reasons she did not wish to elaborate on. Sean felt ill as he placed the two pages on his desk. There had not been a hint about the sudden break-up and the last time they had lain together she had spoken softly against his chest, saying that she would love him forever.

Anger replaced his shock and Sean sensed the breath of George Macintosh in the words. Somehow he had been able to manipulate his estranged wife into returning to him, he thought, reaching for the walking cane. He hobbled to the window of his office. He was expecting Harry Griffith to report to him and the knock on his door announced his appointment was on time.

‘Major,’ Harry said when he entered. Sean turned to him and Harry could see the concern in his face. ‘Everything okay, Boss?’ he asked.

‘Nothing that can’t wait,’ Sean replied, making his way back to his desk. ‘Do you have anything for me?’

Harry beamed at the question. ‘My cobber at Jack’s office gave me some good information on that Mrs Karolina Schumann,’ he said. ‘He was able to have a look at the files old Jack keeps locked away – except that my cobber knows where he hides the key. He read through them and it seems that the sheila you mentioned is on the list of German spies who was supposed to be arrested, and although Jack makes no notes, it seems she is still in the Holdsworthy camp out Liverpool way.’

‘She was temporarily allowed to live with her daughter,’ Sean said.

‘That has to be crook if she is a Hun spy,’ Harry said, frowning. ‘Inspector Firth is in serious dereliction of his duty if he did not arrest her as he was instructed.’

‘But how could he cover it up? Surely his superiors would know about Frau Schumann’s status as a confirmed spy and be questioning why she is still at Holdsworthy and not in a prison cell?’

‘In these times the left hand don’t know what the right hand is doing,’ Harry surmised. ‘He has the file under lock and key and I wouldn’t put it past old Jack to do away with her, solving the problem of not bringing her before a court.’

Sean did not question his investigator’s conclusion that the corrupt policeman was capable of killing anyone. Sean also was aware from the threatening note that on behalf of George he was under the policeman’s scrutiny. And despite displaying confidence that he could not hurt him in any way, privately Sean was not so sure. Accidents did happen – and he might just end up as another one on the city streets.

‘I think that I should travel to the camp and speak with Mrs Schumann,’ he said. ‘It is possible that she may be able to throw some light on matters I am now dealing with concerning her daughter.’

Sean’s mind was racing as he attempted to put the pieces together. He looked up at the big man standing over him and, with a mumbled thanks, reached into his desk, passing the brown envelope to Harry who thanked him and bid him a good afternoon.

When Harry stepped onto the street he was startled to see Detective Inspector Jack Firth walking straight towards him.

‘Hello, old son,’ Jack said, without offering his hand. ‘I’ve heard talk around the traps that you have been asking a lot of questions about me.’

Harry stood nose to nose with his former police superior but, strangely, did not feel intimidated. ‘Good to see that you made inspector,’ he replied. ‘Lucky for you there is a war on, and the department is scraping the bottom of the barrel.’

The insult caused Jack Firth’s smile to turn into grimace. Harry instinctively balanced on his feet as if ready to receive a bayonet attack from a German soldier and the policeman sensed his defensive stance. He could see that war had changed the former policeman.

‘I heard that you are working for that slimy cripple, Duffy,’ Jack responded, taking a step back. The street was crowded with workers and shoppers and neither man could afford a brawl. It was a standoff where words were the weapons. ‘Just a word of advice. If you don’t want to end up on the wrong side of the dock, keep away from Duffy.’

‘Don’t know what you mean, Jack.’ Harry smiled. ‘Major Duffy is my legal representative.’

Jack Firth was frustrated that he could not intimidate his former junior police officer and glowered at him. ‘You think the army made something of you,’ he snarled. ‘Think again, boyo. You are back in my world now – and so is your family.’

A cold fury swept over Harry and he braced himself to launch an attack on the smirking police detective.

‘Inspector Firth, is there anything I can do for you?’

Both men turned their attention to Sean Duffy, who stood leaning on his walking stick a few paces away.

‘Nothing I know of,’ Jack replied before turning to walk away.

‘I just happened to be looking out my window and I noticed you and Inspector Firth getting reacquainted,’ Sean said mildly to Harry, who was still bristling with fury. ‘I would hate to have to defend you again for an assault on one of the city’s most well-known policemen.’

Harry felt the adrenaline easing, realising that the police inspector had been baiting him. He was suddenly grateful for Sean’s timely intervention.

‘So help me,’ he said softly, ‘I am going to kill that bastard one day. I killed men in the trenches whom I didn’t even know, and I can bet they were blokes who I could have sat down and had a cold beer with as cobbers. The government gave me a medal for killing those men, who were not much different to me – but Firth is a born bastard, deserving of being killed.’