The Samurai Inheritance

XLV

Minutes later Jamie still couldn’t believe what he’d been told, but Magda was certain. ‘It’s all here,’ she insisted. ‘The part in red says: DESIGNATION TOP SECRET. The rest is dates, names of the Cabinet committee who discussed the information, some agent called Source X who provided it and Winston Churchill’s insistence that nothing should be done about it. It says all this came from a highly placed spy in the British government.’

‘Christ.’ Jamie struggled to come to terms with the document’s implications. ‘I don’t know how he found out about it, but no wonder Keith Devlin was so keen to get hold of the briefcase. This would be worth billions, not to mention the global influence it would give him if he offered it to the right somebody.’

Michael only shrugged. ‘It is ancient history, surely? Churchill is long dead and the war was won. Who says it’s even true? What does it have to do with the Panguna Mine?’

‘Ancient history it may be,’ Jamie admitted, ‘but the fact that Britain’s greatest statesman appears to have stabbed his country’s major ally — the country with which Great Britain still has a special relationship — in the back could have major global consequences. The very threat of revealing it might be enough to force Britain to change its foreign policy so as not to lose the good will of one of its major trading partners.’

‘But surely the Americans are pragmatists,’ Magda interrupted. ‘They’d have a huge amount to lose if they cut Britain off.’

‘I’m not so sure about that,’ Jamie said. ‘We’re talking about an ally who stood back and watched as eight thousand US sailors died, in an event that suckered their nation into a war most of them wanted no part of and cost hundreds of thousands more casualties. Tell Joe Public their boys were killed on Guadalcanal or Omaha Beach, not because America chose to send them to war, but because Winston Churchill tricked Roosevelt into it, and I don’t think any US president would be able to ignore the backlash.’

Muttering to himself, Kristian Anugu ponderously rose from the step beside him and carried the head into the longhouse.

Jamie watched him go before he continued. ‘You’d probably be talking about a trade boycott at the very least. Britain could be forced out of NATO, American bases would be withdrawn from the UK and without American support in the South Atlantic, Argentina could walk into Port Stanley and take back the Falklands any time they liked. And that’s just the Yanks. If Yamamoto’s fleet had sailed into an ambush it would have set Japan’s preparations for a Pacific war back twenty years. Without those battleships and carriers there would have been no war in Burma or Malaya, Indo-China would still be French and there might have been no Vietnam War. How many people died in a war that didn’t have to be fought? Indians, Africans, Malays, Chinese, Dutch …’

‘Australians.’

‘Yes,’ Jamie answered Magda. ‘Australians, too. How do we know it’s not a fake?’ He turned to Michael. ‘I don’t know that for certain. But everything I know about Churchill tells me it could be true. He was prepared to go to almost any lengths to get what he wanted and he wanted — needed — above all to get America involved in the war. He gave the go-ahead for the Dieppe raid that killed thousands of Canadians, even though he’d been warned it would be a bloodbath. He sent British bombers to bomb French cities and sank their Mediterranean fleet despite the fact they were Allies. It’s perfectly possible that a man who would do that would sacrifice the American fleet, Singapore and Hong Kong to get the Yanks involved.’

‘So he allowed his own people to die?’ Michael said incredulously.

‘Judging by this it could be worse than that,’ Jamie admitted. ‘He may have deliberately sacrificed them. At Singapore, Australian and British reinforcements were still arriving when the Japanese landed on Malayan beaches to the north. If he’d called them back the Japs would have known something was up. Without America in the war there’d have been no Second Front, no daylight bombing of German cities. The Red Army would have been penned up east of the Volga. At worst, the war would have been lost and the Nazis would have ruled from Siberia to Spain. At best, Europe would have gone on bleeding for an entire generation. To avoid that, I have a feeling Winston Churchill would have counted all the sacrifices a bargain. The question is what do I do with it?’

Magda handed him back the files. ‘You’ve made the exchange, they’re yours now. Nothing has changed. You still have to get Fiona and Lizzie away from Keith Devlin.’

‘Now that you have Doug Stewart’s testimony you can do something to stop Devlin taking over the island.’ Jamie appealed to Michael.

‘We still need more evidence,’ the islander repeated. Magda went to stand beside him and the set of her jaw told Jamie she was laying down a marker. He remembered the dangers they’d shared in Tokyo and Siberia, and the time spent on the Trans-Siberian trapped with the monosyllabic Ludmilla and her flatulent husband. Did he really want it to end like this?

‘All right,’ he surrendered, ‘I’ll help you, but I won’t do anything that will put Fiona and Lizzie in any more danger. Tell me what I have to do.’ Michael bent his head so Jamie had to do the same to hear the whispered instructions. A few moments later the rhythmic whup-whup-whup of a faraway helicopter interrupted the conversation and Kristian Anugu beckoned his grandson to him. Jamie slipped the Yamamoto papers back into the briefcase.

‘My grandfather has invited you to witness the fire dance tonight,’ Michael said. ‘It is a great spectacle when he will burn his grandfather’s remains and bury the ashes, so that his spirit will no longer roam. I’m sorry you will miss it, because it is followed by a great feast, but I’ve told him that you must travel with your wounded comrade. He wishes you well. He says you have a good heart, the heart of a warrior, and he thanks you for bringing the head home to Papa’ala.’

Jamie looked at the old man’s grinning face and felt a momentary twinge of conscience that he’d been on the point of turning Michael down. ‘Thank him for his invitation and tell him I hope to feast with him another time.’

The sound of the helicopter increased to a thunderous clatter as it appeared above the trees like a giant hoverfly and settled over the landing ground that Michael’s men had marked out on a patch of clear ground a hundred and fifty paces away. Michael and Magda ran to Doug Stewart’s stretcher. The pair had a brief conversation before Jamie joined them. As he approached Magda rose up and surprised him by kissing him on the cheek.

‘What’s that for?’

‘For the good times and the bad times.’ She shrugged. ‘Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me?’

She looked into his eyes and he saw hers were shining. He smiled. ‘I think they just about balance each other out, so there’s nothing to forgive.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘I hope you remember that.’

He looked on puzzled as she accompanied the stretcher to the helicopter. Michael’s men lifted Doug Stewart on board and the big islander came up to say farewell. He clapped Jamie on the shoulder. ‘I have to stay for the fire dance, but we’ll meet up again tomorrow. I’m depending on you, mate.’

‘I know what I have to do.’

Michael held out his hand. ‘At noon, then,’ he said.

Jamie took the big fist. ‘Just don’t be bloody late, mate. That’s all I ask.’ With a nod he ran to the chopper, bending low to avoid the whirling rotor blades, the briefcase that could change the world heavy in his right hand.