To Touch the Clouds : The Frontier Series 5 (6 page)

Fenella blushed at the compliment and chided herself for doing so. She could not remember the last time a man had been able to make her feel more like a young, naive
girl rather than a worldly woman of the world. ‘I have been informed by Uncle Arthur that you Americans are renowned for your flattery.’

‘There is a difference between a statement of fact and idle chatter,’ Randolph replied.

Fenella found herself appraising the tall American with an uneasy interest. He had an aura about him of strength, courage and gentleness which was very appealing. ‘I hope that we get the opportunity to meet again,’ she found herself saying, noticing Guy returning to the room and immediately making a line towards Randolph and Fenella.

‘I hope so, too,’ Randolph said, seeing Guy approach. ‘I think that I should excuse myself. Your beau has returned.’

As Randolph walked away to join the men standing in the room Fenella could not help comparing the man at her elbow with the one now with his back to her. Maybe it was a good thing that she had met Guy before Randolph, she thought with a touch of guilt, and quickly dismissed the thought.

As the evening came to an end and each of the guests departed Guy Wilkes shook George’s hand. ‘You have a deal,’ he said quietly.

4

P
atrick’s family and guests had departed leaving only the servants and his friend John Hughes, who was with him in the library to share a bottle of good port wine. Cigar smoke filled the room with its pungent but not unpleasant odour.

‘Do you think that your choice of men for this important operation has been wise?’ Hughes asked, rolling the ruby red liquid in his goblet. ‘I can understand why you have assigned Alexander to the mission as he is a commissioned officer in your regiment, but Matthew Duffy is a civilian.’

‘Matthew may be a relative of mine and a civilian,’ Patrick replied, ‘but his background and grasp of military technology has equipped him to carry out the task probably better than my own son Alex.’

‘I am not sure if it is proper to have the American tag along,’ Hughes said.

Patrick shrugged. ‘I doubt that we could have asked Matthew without asking Mr Gates,’ he replied. ‘I suspect that the Yanks are already keeping a close eye on developments in this part of the world. They don’t trust the Japanese. After all, the visit of their Pacific fleet here a couple of years ago was to impress the Japanese as much as to show us who is master of the Pacific. The Japanese victory over the Russians back in ’05 has made everyone a little nervous and from reports we have received it appears the military is assuming a greater role in Japan. They are shaping up to be the Prussians of the East.’

Hughes nodded his head in agreement. As the principal intelligence officer in the Pacific region for the British government he was very much aware of the rapid Japanese armaments progress, but so far the Japanese government had remained cordial to His Majesty’s government. The Japanese had based their navy on the British model but they had also used the German model to build a formidable army. Hughes also knew that the Japanese reaction to any war in Europe would be critical to the future of Australia and, in turn, critical to Britain’s strategic interests. The Japanese naval ports were in close proximity to those of the German cruiser squadron in the Chinese harbour of Tsing-tan. ‘My people in London do not feel that we should get ourselves entangled in any war that might break out on the European mainland,’ Hughes said. ‘The PM has intimated that we will only be drawn into a war there if the Germans violate Belgian territory. Otherwise, the Froggies and the Prussians are welcome to maul each other like they did back in ’73.’

‘We can’t take the chance that England will stay out of any war in Europe,’ Patrick said, gazing at a curling wisp of cigar smoke that rose around his head. ‘We have very little in the way of land or naval forces to resist an attack on our
coastal cities. That operational order for the Australian station gives clear intentions of what the Germans will do to us in the event of war with England. It will not just be a matter of rallying to the Mother Country but a matter of survival. Matthew’s mission is vital to sabotaging any first strike by the Imperial German Navy. We will have to move first and very fast if we are to prevent the German cruisers currently stationed in China steaming south from their base to bombard our main centres of population.’

Patrick’s views were guided by his knowledge of a summarised and translated paper that Colonel Hughes referred to as
document twenty-two
. Its contents had been cabled in code to Sydney early in the new year. Hughes was not authorised to reveal how the sensitive German document was intercepted, such was the importance of protecting the source of the intelligence. It was like a giant game of chess but with both Hughes and Patrick Duffy playing as a team against their unseen if not unknown German adversaries. As the German Pacific empire stretched across Australia’s northern borders the threat was very real to Australia’s very own survival should war break out between Germany and England. Both professional soldiers had witnessed the terrible effects of bombardments on the minds and bodies of men in past conflicts. They had seen the horrifying effects that great shards of red-hot steel could inflict on a man’s body, tearing it to shreds, disembowelling and ripping away limbs. Neither man wanted to see such sights on Australian soil; they did not want Australian men, women and children suffering under a German naval bombardment of their homes and places of work. Now, the two men would embark on a mission that just might tip the balance against the orders contained in the German document. But it would be a dangerous
course of action. It could cost two close relatives and a neutral American their lives.

‘Well, old chap,’ Patrick said, raising his glass, ‘here’s to the success of the operation – and that God might be on our side in this venture.’

Hughes smiled, raising his glass in response. ‘Here is to three brave young men with a sense of duty. May God protect them in the difficult days ahead and furnish us with a victory.’

Both men swigged from their ports, engrossed in their private reflections of what together they had plotted to change the course of history, a plan unauthorised by their respective governments. Colonel John Hughes knew that the chief of intelligence in London would not want to know about it – especially if things went wrong. Both men in the room were acutely aware that their reputations and careers were on the line as much as the security of their beloved countries.

In the back seat of Patrick Duffy’s chauffeured car, Matthew Duffy and Randolph Gates remained silent. Patrick had arranged to pick up the two men from the Emu Hotel in Chippendale where they were staying while in Sydney and then take them back after the dinner. The men’s thoughts were in turmoil; the proposition put forward for their assistance in a scheme to spy on the German military to the north of Australia occupied Matthew’s mind, while the meeting with Fenella Macintosh at the dinner hours earlier filled the American’s thoughts.

The car stopped in the dark city street dimly lit by a gas light in front of the hotel, a two-storey building well known to country visitors. Thanking the driver, Matthew
and Randolph alighted to knock on the door and be ushered inside by an elderly night porter who recognised two of the younger guests of the establishment.

‘I know it’s late but is there any chance of getting a bottle?’ Matthew asked. ‘It will be worth a bob for you.’

The porter was a man experienced in the needs of hotel guests and had a thriving little business on the side, supplying their requests ranging from after-hours liquor to discreet visits from certain shady ladies. He also had contacts with starting price bookies and a good knowledge of social gossip. ‘Would you prefer rum or whisky?’ he asked.

‘Whisky would be fine, Harry,’ Matthew answered. ‘Could you deliver it to my room as soon as possible? I think Mr Gates and I could do with a stiff drink before retiring.’

The porter shuffled away to fill the order, leaving Matthew and Randolph to make their way up the stairs to Matthew’s room. Unlocking the door, they entered the room already lit by a gas light. Now it was time to talk.

‘Are we going to actually go along with the colonel?’ Randolph asked, slumping down in a comfortable chair by the window overlooking the empty city street below. He’d had time to let the ramifications of what they were embarking on truly hit him during the car journey back to their hotel.

Matthew pulled out a chair behind an elegant desk and sat down. ‘I said we would,’ he answered. ‘But I do not expect that you have to stick with me on this one, old friend.’

‘God damn you, Matt – you think I would let you go alone on this one?’ the American growled. ‘Your mother would hunt me down and skin me alive if anything happened to you.’

Matthew grimaced at the mention of his mother. For
years he knew she had accepted her only son’s wanderlust and thirst for the dangerous as something he had inherited from his father, Luke Tracy. Matthew knew that as a young woman his mother had faced danger every day of her life forging her fortune on the wild Queensland frontier. And he guessed she had accepted that exposure to war had changed her son, and had expressed gratitude for the fact that, for a couple of years upon returning from South Africa, he had at least worked one of the family cattle properties in Queensland under the watchful eye of her chief manager, Randolph Gates. Eventually, Matthew had gone to her and begged for a substantial allowance to pursue a life travelling the world. He knew that his mother had agonised over his plea to be set free to wander. At first she had resisted but after a year she relented, setting one proviso: Matthew could only travel in the company of Randolph Gates. Matthew gladly accepted the condition. Over the years he and Randolph had formed a mutual respect for each other. That had been the first step on Matthew’s path to roaming the world and learning how to fly in Egypt, and Randolph had honoured his promise to his employer that he would keep in touch by letter informing her of Matthew’s welfare.

‘I promise that I will see Mother before we go on this little job for the colonel,’ Matthew replied.

A knock at the door alerted the two men to the fact that the porter had delivered their bottle. Matthew thanked Harry and slid a note into the grateful man’s hand. When they were alone again, he poured the whisky neat into tumblers, handing one to Randolph. Matthew raised his glass in the manner of a toast. ‘Here’s to beautiful women, a long life and the success of our mission,’ he said.

Randolph responded in silence by raising his glass. He had been thinking about Fenella Macintosh and could
not get her out of his mind. He also felt uncomfortable as he was aware of Matthew’s romance with her some years earlier. Taking a long swig from his glass, Randolph said casually, ‘You must have been pleased to be able to meet again tonight with one whom you must be very fond of.’

Matthew stared blankly at his friend in the flickering light of the room. ‘Who . . . oh, you mean Nellie,’ he replied with a knowing grin. ‘That was a long time ago and I was surprised at my feelings towards her tonight when we were together. I have to confess that all I felt was a very strong affection for my cousin, but nothing more than that. Nellie was merely a school boy crush.’

Inwardly, Randolph felt his spirits soar. So only that effeminate actor, Guy Wilkes, stood in the way of him convincing Miss Macintosh that he would like to see more of her. Randolph’s opinion of the actor was low. As a man of action, he considered all men who could not rope a steer and brand a cow to be pansies. He doubted Guy Wilkes could do those things. ‘I am sorry,’ Randolph said.

Matthew blinked. ‘You old devil,’ he chuckled. ‘I was right when I thought you had a bit of a thing for Nellie tonight. I could see the way you were hanging on to everything she said and the way you were looking at her with cow eyes.’

‘I think that Miss Macintosh is one of the finest ladies I have had the honour to meet, that’s all,’ Randolph answered, dismayed that his interest in Matthew’s cousin was so obvious.

‘Well, you have a bit of competition for Nellie’s affections,’ Matthew continued. ‘Guy Wilkes is very popular with the ladies.’

Randolph did not reply immediately but took a swig of his whisky. ‘What do we do next?’ he asked, changing the subject.

‘We have six weeks to get matters organised before we are due to steam from Sydney in company with my cousin Captain Alex Macintosh,’ Matthew replied. ‘In that time, we can stow away the Bleriot and make a trip to visit my mother.’

‘A good idea,’ Randolph agreed. ‘It has been at least a year since Miss Tracy last saw you. It will kind of prove that you are still alive.’

Matthew winced. It had always been his friend who had sent the letters from different parts of the world to keep Kate Tracy up to date on where they were and some of what they were doing. Randolph knew that he could not tell his boss that her only son was popular with many of the ladies they encountered from Shanghai to Moscow and had indulged himself in the charms they offered. Nor could he tell Kate Tracy of the times that he had been called on to tend to the wounds her only son received as a result of the occasional bar room brawls and small wars they stumbled into in the course of their wanderings. From what Randolph knew of the extended family history, trouble was a constant shadow in their lives. Kate’s brother Michael Duffy had lived as a mercenary soldier from the battlefields of New Zealand through the end of the Civil War in Randolph’s country and Mexico to the veldt of South Africa. Patrick Duffy, Kate’s nephew, had served fighting from Egypt through the Sudan to South Africa as well. And Matthew too had served as a soldier in the war against the Boer farmers. Even now, Randolph could see that the young man’s experiences in South Africa had left an indelible mark on his soul. His fanatical interest in the use of aviation in warfare was only an extension of his past. But one thing stood out about Matthew – he was a patriot to his country and born to soar with the eagles.