To Ride the Wind (26 page)

George slumped into the big leather chair behind his desk. His immediate reaction was the impact such a matter might have on his being awarded an honour by the King. ‘Is Karolina currently in a prison?’ he asked.

‘Not exactly,’ Jack said, walking to the window overlooking the harbour. ‘I have placed her under unofficial house arrest at your brother’s house until something can be worked out.’

‘Why would you do that?’ George asked, feigning innocence but knowing full well the shrewd police inspector was most probably jockeying for a bribe.

‘To prevent you and your family suffering the public disgrace of having a traitor in the family,’ Jack said with just the slightest of satisfied smiles. ‘Right now, I am the only one with Frau Schumann’s file. I ensured all other copies were destroyed – except the army one, which I need you to make go away. Now, I know you fully appreciate what her arrest might mean so you must also appreciate that I need compensation for risking my pension.’

‘How much?’ George cut across the policeman’s explanation.

Jack pushed a scrap of paper across the desk. George glanced at the figure, raising his eyebrows at the large sum.

‘You realise that I will need something more in return for paying you the figure you ask,’ George said, already scheming to recover the amount. ‘I would need the file you have. I am sure it could be easily lost in your busy department.’

‘When I get the money you get the file,’ Jack said, pleased to see that the wealthy businessman had not queried what he had asked for. ‘But I will have to take steps over the next week or so to have Frau Schumann returned to internment at Holdsworthy – just to cover my arse. That way I can be sure she will not continue her spying and cause us any future embarrassment. There would be a good chance that your sister-in-law’s mother might meet with an unfortunate accident in the camp if it was circulated that she had betrayed her fellow agents to our intelligence people. In the meantime, you have to ensure that the file the army keeps on Schumann is lost.’

‘That sounds like a very good arrangement,’ George concurred, knowing it probably meant he would not have to pass on the coded papers she brought him. ‘I will arrange to drop off the money to you at our usual meeting spot,’ he continued. ‘I just need a day to arrange withdrawals. As for the other file, I am sure that a well-placed friend of mine in government can take care of that for me in return for a party contribution.’

‘Keep to the plan and all will work out for us both,’ Jack said. ‘If there is nothing else, I will bid you a good day, Mr Macintosh.’

When Jack had left the office, George leaned back in his chair. His success in business was largely the result of having the mind to recognise an opportunity. And right now he was about to be played a hand that would help him realise yet another dream. He would be able to rid himself at last of the woman who had been the only link he had with the German agent in the internment camp. Finally he had an excuse to cease acting as the courier for the coded letters.

George rose from his desk, walked over to the window and gazed out at the view. His kingdom. One day, the Macintosh family would be the most influential in Australia, he mused. He returned to his desk and lifted the telephone receiver. His public service contact, Sir Hubert, would make the army file disappear. As for Karolina Schumann, he trusted the corrupt policeman to make her also vanish.

Matthew did not require anyone to wake him for his mission. Years of early rises had equipped his internal clock to bring him out of his sleep. The first thing he noticed as he heard the settlement stirring was that Joanne was no longer beside him.

He dressed in his flying kit and left the house under the last veil of night to go to the improvised airfield. Here he met the Russian who had first greeted him.

‘I have checked guns and bomb,’ the Russian said in the dawn’s half-light, shaking Matthew’s hand with his own grease-plastered one. ‘We paint out your identification.’

Matthew turned his head. All AFC roundels had been painted out. His aircraft was now one that seemingly did not belong to any nation, which made the Australian flyer apprehensive. He was helped into the cockpit by the Russian, who made his way around the nose to spin the propeller into action. With a choking roar, the engine spluttered alive. Matthew checked his instruments – especially his compass – and waved to the small crowd of curious men and women who had gathered to see him take off. The operation was well sketched in his mind and he pulled out his fob watch to check the time. According to Saul’s plan he should have just about put his raiding party in place for the surprise attack.

The Russian stood back, throwing a salute which Matthew returned with a wave of his hand. He could barely make out the end of the strip and prayed nothing had changed since the evening before. When he was satisfied his revs were up he let the heavy bomber lurch forward, picking up speed until he was confident there was enough wind on his wings to lift her skyward. With a final bump she was in the air and Matthew was pleased to see the dawning day was proving to be clear of clouds.

He pulled on the stick to get altitude before swinging around and checking his compass for the bearing he had calculated the night before. Soon, he had levelled off and was flying in the direction of the unsuspecting Arab village. He would have the sun at his back when he made his approach, thus blinding any observer on the ground as he swept in.

It did not take long to reach the sleeping village below and, as he passed over a ridge, Matthew could make out Saul’s force of around fifty men dismounted and waiting on the reverse slope. They waved to him as he continued his flight towards the village.

With the sun rising behind him, he levelled off at almost roof level to make his approach on the cluster of square mud and stone buildings. According to the map Saul had shown him, his target was a large mud building at the edge of town, bordered by a low, stone wall. He had been assured that if the bomb dropped cleanly there was little chance of killing the women and children of the village. But that was a great trust in his own ability to deliver the deadly iron canister accurately.

As he approached Matthew could see his target and also noticed men spilling from the stone building. The sound of his engine had obviously alerted them and he could see dark faces staring at him as rifles were raised to challenge his approach. When Matthew was satisfied that his height, speed and angle of delivery were right he pulled the stick to release the bomb. It fell away cleanly and the release of weight caused his aircraft to lurch upwards. He was over the village before the bomb hit the building and exploded. But it was the second explosion that almost blew his flimsy aircraft from the sky. He could feel the heat rise up to grasp at him and realised that his bomb must have set off a store of high explosives. Buffeted by the secondary explosions, Matthew fought to keep control of the Martinsyde. He put on more speed and, as he did, pulled up and around to fly back over the target. From his cockpit he could see dust rising on the plain below from Saul’s assault force charging the stunned survivors of the blast. Matthew could not hear the rattle of gunfire as both attackers and attacked engaged in a savage skirmish. The roar of his engine and the air whistling past his ears drowned all sound from below.

He swooped again over the area, now covered in black, boiling smoke, and saw the remains of men mutilated by his bomb. A few more fortunate survivors wandered aimlessly around the area scorched by the explosion, clearly with ear drums blown out and suffering concussion. They were no longer interested in firing on him and ignored his fly over.

From his vantage point, Matthew could see Saul’s men already firing in the narrow, twisting alleys of the village, fighting any armed men who came out to engage them. There was little else he could do but return to the settlement and land to await the final outcome.

‘We could hear the explosion from here,’ the Russian said when Matthew had brought his aircraft to a halt and cut the engine. ‘You do good.’

Matthew climbed out of the cockpit and jumped to the earth, taking off his goggles and leather head cap as he did. The Russian passed him a bottle of vodka.

‘We drink,’ he said. Matthew took a long swig of the fiery liquid and passed the bottle back.

‘How long before Saul returns?’

‘Maybe before noon,’ the Russian replied. ‘If all go well.’

The Australian airman walked over to a stand of olive trees and wearily sat down in the shade. He soon fell asleep but just before midday was awoken by the loud wailing of women coming from the settlement. Blinking away the snatched sleep, he stood up and walked quickly to the township. When he entered the main square he was shocked to see Saul holding his eldest son, Benjamin, in his arms. He was covered in blood. Elsa sobbed, clutching frantically at her son. Matthew spotted Joanne, alarmed to see that she, too, was covered in blood. He rushed to her.

‘It did not go well,’ she said in a tired voice. ‘I was left on the ridge to observe until the signal was given for me to identify the body of the man we were supposed to kill. When I went in I saw that Benjamin had been severely wounded. Saul allowed his men to run amok and they killed every male they found, sparing only the very elderly, women and children. Saul forced them out of the village and set it alight. We only had one casualty – Saul’s son.’

‘Have you been wounded?’ Matthew asked, ignoring for the moment the brutal tactics of his old army friend.

‘No, this is Benjamin’s blood. I tried to bandage his wound after we ensured the Arab agitator was among the dead. Benjamin appears to have been hit in the upper chest with a dum dum bullet and if he does not get first class medical treatment he will surely die. There’s a medical clinic here but it is not equipped for major surgery.’

‘Thank God you have not been injured,’ Matthew said. ‘I don’t know what I would have done.’

‘Well, we are both alive,’ she said softly, touching his cheek with the tips of her fingers.

‘What do we do now?’ Matthew asked as the men who had accompanied Saul on his raid mixed with wives and children joyous to have their men back safely.

‘I have to help save Benjamin’s life,’ Joanne said. ‘I know a Syrian surgeon from Damascus who has a practice in Jerusalem. He is reputed to be one of the best in the Holy Land.’

‘Jerusalem is still held by the Turks,’ Matthew cautioned. ‘It would be too dangerous.’

‘We don’t have much choice,’ Joanne answered. ‘I have the Packard and will be able to transport him. As a US citizen I am still classified as a neutral, and the Ottomans respect that. I will not be harmed.’

‘It is still risky,’ Matthew frowned. ‘The last I heard, your country is on the verge of declaring war.’

‘I have survived this long. Just trust me.’

Matthew agonised. How could he stop her? When it came to looking after herself in these harsh and dangerous lands she had more than proved to be the better of most men he knew. ‘Promise that you will contact me as soon as you can,’ he said.

‘I will,’ Joanne answered. ‘We will leave within the hour and should be in Jerusalem before nightfall. All I can hope is that Benjamin is strong enough to make the trip.’

Matthew joined Saul and between the people of the settlement they were able to make up a litter to fit in the big American touring car. Elsa insisted on tending to her son for the journey and against Saul’s protests won her argument. With a sigh and shrug he watched as his wife cradled her son’s head in her lap, crooning soothing words of encouragement. Both Saul and Matthew stood shoulder to shoulder as Joanne set out to drive north to the ancient city with her cargo which was precious to both men.

‘They will be safe,’ Saul said when the automobile was out of sight. ‘May God look over them.’

Although Matthew was not particularly religious he found himself thinking about Wallarie, and silently asked his protection for the woman he loved.

‘I suppose that I should return to my base,’ Matthew said as both men walked away. ‘I will need your Russian to make sure I am displaying AFC markings and top up my tanks from the fuel supply I see you have in the village.’

‘That will be done,’ Saul answered. They had seized the drums from a hastily deserted German airfield in one of their raids. ‘We thought it might be best if your aircraft was not identifiable to the Arabs.’

‘Joanne said that you pretty well slaughtered all the men of the village.’

Saul stopped walking and stared across the fields covered in vineyards and orchards. ‘Ever since I have lived here the Arabs from the village have periodically attempted to wipe us out,’ he said. ‘Had you not helped us they would have used the German gun to shell our settlement and the Ottomans have no real desire to protect us. Today, I solved the problem of any future threat from our Arab neighbours. We spared the women and children and I know that they can settle further up the valley with their relatives. This country has been at war forever,’ he continued. ‘Even Moses sanctioned the complete destruction and death of his enemies in the past. He ordered that every man, woman and child be put to the sword when his people entered the lands promised by God.’

‘That was then,’ Matthew argued. ‘This is now, and what you have done is going to come back on you in the future.’

‘This is my land now,’ Saul said. ‘I have given the blood of my eldest son in the defence of freedom from persecution. We are merely returning to the land the Romans forced us out of – not attempting to take someone else’s land.’

Matthew desisted from continuing the argument with his old friend. He could see that Saul had grown to be a pioneer in his adopted country. After all, had not his own relatives on the Macintosh side slaughtered the Aboriginal people of the lands they took for themselves? Who was he, as an Australian, to judge another’s ideas on the occupation of land?

With his crowd of curious wellwishers waving goodbye, Matthew took off to make his way south to his airbase. He was dreading the homecoming as he’d have to account for being so long overdue. He knew that he would have to answer a lot of awkward questions and only hoped Joanne had been able to get a message through to London to explain his unplanned mission.