To Touch the Clouds : The Frontier Series 5 (10 page)

‘I think it is time that we retired to open that bottle of Scotch I have brought to celebrate the first stage of our operation,’ Patrick said. ‘But keep in mind, tomorrow you are going to commence lessons on how to strip and assemble a BE.2, so you will need to keep a clear head.’

Randolph watched Patrick turn on his heel and stride towards the farmhouse that had been converted into a secret base for training operations. Good food and other supplies had been transported from Sydney and it was obvious that the Australian army officer was a thorough man. That gave the American some faith in the success of whatever had been planned for him and Matthew.

‘It will help you relax,’ Guy said soothingly to Fenella, who eyed the white powder piled on the brown paper with suspicion. ‘It has strong medicinal properties and it cannot harm you.’

They were alone in the bedroom of Fenella’s cottage. The tension between them was causing a rift that widened with each waking moment.

‘Is it heroin?’ Fenella asked.

‘Yes, but it is no more than a strong pain reliever,’ Guy said, leaning forward to snort a puff of the powder up his
nose. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, allowing the chemical to enter his system.

‘I know that your father frowns on the stuff but it has done me no harm and I can name many respected people who avail themselves of the powder. People your father holds in high esteem.’

Fenella stared at Guy. His face reflected a dreamy serenity. In the past she had wondered at his mood shifts and felt for some time that the drug may have had something to do with his unpredictable behaviour. She had fallen head over heels in love with this handsome, charming son of a country draper, despite her father’s disapproval. He had instinctively disliked the young man with the oily manners and little demonstration of the manly attributes of hard work, ambition and a sense of being true to others. Patrick did not consider that a man should live off his good looks or make a living pretending to be something he was not – although he did not think acting was beneath his daughter’s ambitions. After all, what other choices did a woman have in life before she assumed her role as a wife and mother? Acting was a way for a woman to fill in time before assuming her intended vocation.

‘You swear on our love that heroin is not like opium?’ Fenella asked. Guy nodded his head. Fenella leaned forward and snorted the powder up her nose, forcing herself not to sneeze. As she sat on the bed the chemicals began to control her feelings. Now she understood why her lover had advocated the drug’s use. The eventual euphoria made her feel so good; worries simply melted away.

Guy watched the tense expression on Fenella’s face slowly wilt to be replaced with a look of wonder and peace. Why her brother had asked him to introduce the young woman to the world of heroin was a mystery to Guy. Once it hooked
a person there was no going back. But the money he was being paid to carry out the service to George Macintosh was huge. Guy Wilkes had decided that he no longer had need for the beautiful young woman in his life and the deal he had made with George not only released any lingering feelings he might have toward Fenella but also paid handsomely. So why was it that he experienced feelings of jealousy whenever he thought of Fenella showing interest in other men?

Guy rose from the chair. Fenella was now lying back on the bed. With practised smoothness he began removing her clothes. In her euphoric state, Fenella did not resist his advances. She was in a world of sheer pleasure and nothing else mattered.

In the week that Randolph and Matthew spent on the farm they had learned the mechanics of the BE.2 biplane under the watchful eye of two aircraft mechanics detached from the army at Point Cook. They were instructed not only on its maintenance but also spent a couple of days learning how to strip the aircraft down into transportable parts and then re-assemble it. When the biplane was ready to fly Matthew and Randolph conducted exercises in low level flight and at times Randolph had taken the controls. Even Patrick had gone aloft with Matthew for a flight around the countryside and remarked when they had landed that he could see the young aviator’s vision of the aeroplane being deployed as a future weapon of war.

Satisfied that this stage of the operation had achieved its aim of familiarisation with the aircraft, Patrick declared that the biplane would be stripped down and packed in wooden crates for transport back to Sydney where it would be placed in secret storage until next required.

The five men then cleaned up around the farmhouse and departed in a couple of trucks to the nearest village for lunch and beers at a pub. They did not speak of their time at the farm but shook hands with the two men from Point Cook who would now take a train from Sydney to Melbourne and rejoin the aviation school at Point Cook. Both these men had also been sworn to secrecy – knowing only that they were to assist in the exercise at the farm.

When Matthew and Randolph returned to their hotel in Sydney Matthew picked up the mail from the front desk. Among the letters was a gilt-edged invitation.

‘It appears that the colonel is rewarding us for our contribution to his mission,’ Matthew said, scanning the stiff card. ‘You and I have been invited to attend his regiment’s annual ball for officers at one of Sydney’s finest hotels.’

Randolph dropped his swag on the floor of the hotel foyer and took a seat in one of the comfortable leather chairs. ‘Do you think that Miss Macintosh will be attending?’ he asked, attempting to sound casual.

‘I am fairly sure she will,’ Matthew said, glancing at his friend. ‘But she will probably be escorted by her beau.’

‘Probably,’ Randolph answered, attempting to keep the disappointment from his voice.

‘But as we are to report to Arthur’s studio tomorrow I am sure that you might have the opportunity to speak with Nellie and ask if she has been invited to the ball. You never know . . .’ Matthew could read his American friend like a book and saw the hope glimmer in his demeanour at the suggestion. Matthew had never seen Texas Slim as taken by any woman like this before. He was more like a little school boy than the tough adventurer Matthew had
come to know. Matthew hoped that Randolph would be successful in his bid to woo Nellie. He had disliked Guy from the moment he had felt his limp handshake upon their meeting.

‘Well, old chap,’ Matthew said, ‘I think that it is time to retire to the bar and catch up on the drinking we were denied at the farm by the colonel.’

The following day, the men shuffled into the studio to be met by Arthur Thorncroft whose lips pursed in annoyance at their dishevelled appearance.

‘You two must have had a good night,’ he said, turning on his heel and indicating that they should follow him.

The celebration in the hotel bar upon their return to Sydney had ended in a brawl with a couple of station hands down from Queensland who happened to hail from a rival property near Kate Tracy’s. Honour and the reputation of her ringers had been insulted and the ensuing fist fight drew in innocent bystanders to the point of men spilling into the city’s streets and gutters and leaving teeth and blood behind in the bar.

By the time six police had been dispatched to deal with the brawl Matthew had settled all damages with the publican and the two rival parties stood side by side discussing the merits and superiority of Queensland horsemen over those in any other state. The police left shaking their heads. Still the short, fierce fight with fists and feet had left Matthew with a split lip and Randolph with a black eye and bruising to the side of his face.

Arthur led them into a room scattered about with bits and pieces of camera parts. They were greeted by a pleasant young man in his late twenties. He had an open, warm
smile on his clean-shaven face and wore a woollen vest with the arms cut away.

‘Bob Houston,’ the cameraman introduced himself, shaking Matthew and Randolph’s hands firmly. ‘I am Mr Thorncroft’s leading cameraman and pleased to meet you both. Mr Thorncroft has informed me that you were once an apprentice to the trade of the camera, Mr Duffy.’

‘I will leave you in Mr Houston’s capable hands,’ Arthur said, preparing to depart. ‘I am sure you will quickly update your knowledge, Matthew, and Mr Gates appears to be an intelligent man despite being born an American. If you need to see me, I will be in my office.’

On a table in the centre of the room was a wooden box with an extendable lens and at the side of the box a brass cranking handle. ‘Mr Thorncroft has briefed me that you gentlemen need to learn how to use this camera we have just purchased,’ the cameraman said, guiding them to the table. ‘Of course there is a lot more to filming than just simply cranking the handle and pointing the camera at the subject. You need to be fairly proficient before the camera is handed over to you. But what exactly do you need to know about the camera’s specific use?’

‘How it can be used from an aircraft flying approximately five thousand feet from the ground – or lower,’ Matthew said quietly between the hammer blows in his head.

‘Interesting,’ Bob Houston uttered. ‘May I ask why you want to film from an aeroplane?’

On instructions from Patrick, Matthew had already prepared his cover story. ‘We have been asked by a wealthy landowner for aerial film of his property. It appears he wants to use the bird’s eye view of the terrain to assist him in planning water storage from natural watercourses on his land.’

‘Not a bad idea,’ Bob commented, already opening the wooden case to expose the mechanical workings of the camera. ‘I have never heard of that being done before. I heard that you are an aviator. It might have been handy when I was in South Africa chasing those Dutch farmers during the war when I was with the New Zealand Mounted Rifles.’

Despite his hangover, Matthew was amused at his own ingenuity. Maybe there was a future in aerial photography for mapping terrain and assisting the future of Australia’s vital agricultural industry although his passion for the potential use of aircraft in combat was still his priority. But he was also interested to learn that the cameraman was a New Zealander and had served in the same war as he.

‘I served with our army in South Africa,’ Matthew replied. ‘What rank did you hold?’

‘Sergeant,’ Bob replied. ‘Unlike you Australians we had to prove that we could supply our own horse, rifle and equipment before they would recruit us. Every young bloke in New Zealand wanted to join up but originally they only took those who could prove they could afford to fight and die for the good old British Empire. You look like you might have been pretty young to have served.’

‘I was,’ Matthew replied with a grin. ‘When we get the chance you and I should swap a few stories. One of them is how I got sent home.’

For the next couple of hours the cameraman took both Matthew and Randolph through the mechanics of the camera and how it operated. He cautioned them about the flammability of the cellulose film and said that developing the film was a lesson for a later date even though Matthew was already experienced in such matters from his time with Arthur many years earlier.

When both his students demonstrated to his satisfaction that they could load and unload the film from the camera, Bob called a break for lunch. He suggested a counter meal at a hotel nearby and Matthew and Randolph readily accepted his invitation to join him.

To Randolph’s delight, Fenella appeared on the set outside the camera room just as they were departing. She was in discussion with Miss Myrtle Birney, the scriptwriter, over changes to the script. She glanced up at the three men and an expression of concern shadowed her face when she noticed the two in company with the New Zealand cameraman. Randolph suddenly felt embarrassed. His battered appearance was not presenting a good image for the woman he hoped to impress.

‘Cousin Matthew and Mr Gates,’ Fenella said mischievously. ‘Have you both been involved in the same accident?’

Matthew grinned. ‘You might say that,’ he replied. ‘But, as they say, you should see the other blokes.’

Fenella smiled sadly at her cousin. ‘I can see that you have changed little since I knew you as a young soldier. Fisticuffs prowess seems to be a trait of Macintosh and Duffy men. And I can see that you have drawn poor Mr Gates into your wayward life. I had the impression that Mr Gates might be a gentleman,’ she sighed.

‘Oh, Texas can mix it with the best of them,’ Matthew said with some pride. ‘Don’t let his Yankee charm and ugly looks fool you. I could tell you some stories about our adventures but think I will not, lest you blush.’

‘Mr Gates,’ Fenella said, turning her attention to the American standing quietly to one side, ‘I am sure that we have something in make-up that will conceal the bruises to your face.’

Randolph stepped forward, sweeping his Stetson hat into his hands. ‘I truly appreciate your offer, Miss Macintosh,’ he said. ‘But I have come to learn how to live with cuts and bruises in the company of your cousin.’

‘Come, Mr Gates,’ Fenella persisted, reaching out to lead him by the hand. ‘We have a dressing room near Uncle Arthur’s office and I am sure that he would not begrudge me repairing the damage that your friendship with my wayward cousin has caused your fine looks.’

Randolph glanced at Matthew, who shrugged. ‘Sounds like Nellie might be able to finally do something to make you look handsome,’ he said. ‘I will go to the pub with Bob while Nellie patches you up.’

As Fenella led Randolph away. Matthew grinned. The unexpected silver lining to the brawl was that it created an opportunity for the American to make conversation with Nellie. Who knows where that could lead, Matthew thought as he followed the cameraman off the set.

Fenella sat Randolph down in a chair. A large mirror covered the wall and the room had a strong smell of grease paint.

Fenella found a jar of pale-coloured grease, applying it delicately with her fingers to the bruised areas of his face. Randolph could smell the scent of her perfume as she leaned over him.

Fenella stood back to admire her work. ‘There, Mr Gates, you can hardly see the bruising anymore.’

‘Thank you, Miss Macintosh,’ he said. ‘It has been a long time since I can remember such a soft and gentle touch from a woman.’