James Benn - The White Ghost

“They taught me well at the Evangelical Mission on Guadalcanal,” he said. “But Pijin comes easier. You learn kwiktaem, Kaz.” I guess I’d be the slow-time one.

“You’re worried we’re here to cover things up?” I said.

“No mi wari,” Vouza said. “Hem kill Daniel wari.” That was easy enough to figure out.

“Do you know Lieutenant Jack Kennedy?” I asked, wondering if Vouza had him on his list of suspects.

“Sure. Hem loosim boat. Two fella dead. Hem wari all day. Hem hate Japan man. Kennedy barava.” Brave. It wasn’t the first word that sprang to mind about Jack, but it had been a while.

“Did he know Daniel?” I asked.

“Ya. Daniel friend with Biuku and Eroni. They brought message to navy to send boat. Save sailors. They all visit Kennedy. Next day, Daniel dead. You think Kennedy kill Daniel?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“I think no,” Vouza said. “Hem good man. Also weak from loosim PT boat, no helti. Daniel strong. Hem faetem Kennedy easy.”

“That fits what we know about his condition after the rescue. We need to talk to Jack,” I said. “You know his father is a very important man?”

“I do not know his father. Big man?”

“Yes,” I said, figuring Vouza deserved the truth. “Very big in America. He had us sent here. But he doesn’t own us.”

Vouza looked at me from the passenger seat, then turned his gaze to Kaz. He pursed his lips, nodding to himself.

“No wari,” Vouza said. “You tell me Kennedy no kill Daniel, I believe you. You tell me Kennedy kill Daniel, then I kill Kennedy. Kwiktaem.”

There wasn’t much to say after that.

I saw Jack before he spotted me. He had always been skinny, but I wasn’t prepared for how frail and bone-thin he looked. But the smile was there, the same one I remembered. The kind of grin that took you in and swallowed you whole. There was no denying a smiling Jack.

“Billy Boyle!” Jack exclaimed from his hospital bed, where he’d been reclining while a striking brown-haired female nurse changed bandages on his feet. He swung his legs off the bed, trailing a swath of gauze and nearly knocking the girl off her chair. “Sorry I can’t get up; we’re in the middle of something. How are you, Billy?”

His Cambridge accent was as strong as ever. They tell me folks from Southie have a bit of an accent, but we all sound normal to my ears. Jack’s accent was pure Harvard, with that British upper-class drawl and those leisurely rrr ’s. I took his proffered hand and shook. His skin was deeply tanned, but that was the only part of him that looked healthy. Or helti, as Jacob said. He had dark bags under his eyes and a weariness that his jovial greeting couldn’t hide.

“I’m good, Jack,” I said. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he said. “Deanna is taking great care of me. Deanna Pendleton, this is an old pal of mine from Boston, Billy Boyle. A swell guy.” Jack looked up at me while Deanna smiled politely and maneuvered his legs back onto the bed. She smeared ointment on the bottom of his feet. They’d been badly cut up from what I could see. Healing, but it didn’t look like Jack would be running the hundred-yard dash anytime soon. I looked away, feeling Jack’s gaze grow steely. He didn’t like his weaknesses on display.

“Jack, this is Kaz.”

“Lieutenant Piotr Kazimierz,” Kaz said. “A pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant. I met your brother several years ago in England, at a house party given by Lady Astor.” Kaz carefully left out the recent meeting in Morocco.

“My condolences, Lieutenant,” Jack said. “Sounds dreary. Joe can be a bore at times. Always so serious.”

“I assure you, Lady Astor was so offensive I took little note of anyone else.”

“Very diplomatic,” he said. “At least regarding my family. Are you with the Polish Government in Exile?”

“Detached,” Kaz said, avoiding the fact that he now worked for General Eisenhower.

“Kaz is a baron,” I said, steering the conversation in a direction a Boston Brahmin might appreciate, even an upstart Irish Brahmin.

“What clan?” Jack asked. It was the first time I ever heard anyone ask that question. Everyone else was surprised that Poles had barons.

“The Augustus clan,” Kaz answered, pride evident in his voice. “But please call me Kaz. Most Americans do.”

“Then so shall I,” Jack said. “I had no idea there were Polish forces in the South Pacific. Are you two stationed around here?” He sounded genuinely clueless about why we were here. But the Kennedys didn’t get on top by telegraphing their moves, so I thought I’d play along and see what was what.

“For the time being,” I said, which was true enough. “We met Sergeant Vouza this morning, and he came along.” Vouza stepped closer, his hand raised in greeting.

“Hao Nao, Jacob!” Jack said.

“Mi olraet nomoa!” Vouza said. “Jack savvy gud Pijin. Hao Nao, Deanna.” He grinned and gave Deanna a salute, which she returned with a gracious nod, her hands busy wrapping a roll of gauze around Jack’s foot.

“Jacob taught me some,” Jack explained as Deanna tied off the bandage, ignoring her and whatever pain she inflicted on his foot. “It’s not hard to pick up if you pay attention.”

“I go now,” Vouza announced. “Captain Sexton and other Coastwatchers wait for me. Jack, soon we kill many Jap fella. All inna ground. Lukim iu!” With a wave of a hand, he was gone.

“He’s an excellent fellow,” Jack said. “The Coastwatchers organization is having a major confab in a villa down the road. Jacob is a big wheel with them.” I wondered if he’d be as admiring if he knew Vouza was ready to use that machete on him if necessary.

“Lukim iu?” Kaz asked.

“Goodbye,” Jack explained. “See you, to be precise.”

He winced as he moved to a chair and motioned for Kaz to join him. He walked gingerly on the heels of his feet, which obviously were not fully healed. He shifted a few times in his seat, getting his back as straight as he could. His back was always giving him fits, and being run over by a Jap destroyer couldn’t have helped much.

After a deep breath, Jack began asking Kaz questions about Poland and the Polish Government in Exile. What was their position regarding the Soviets? Post-war borders and the British government? It was like watching a sponge absorb water. Jack had a way of taking all the intelligence you had to offer and giving little in return except his undivided attention. It was charming and callous at the same time.

“So, Miss Pendleton, I didn’t think there were any Australian nurses on staff here,” I said, making conversation while Kaz and Jack talked about the consequences of the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk.

“There aren’t, and I’m from New Zealand,” she said, her accent soft and melodic. She wore army coveralls which were way too large for her. The belt was cinched twice around her tiny waist. “Call me Deanna, please. I am a nurse, but I was with the Methodist mission on Vella Lavella. We stayed behind after the other civilians were evacuated, hoping the Japanese would respect a religious community providing medical care for the Melanesians.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t,” I said.

“No,” Deanna said, shaking her head as she absently twisted the white bandages around her hand. “We heard rumors of Catholic nuns on Bougainville being bayoneted. As word of Japanese atrocities against the natives filtered out, I decided to get out. A Coastwatcher on Segi sent a canoe, and I ended up working as his radio operator until they brought me here.”

“That’s the short version, Billy,” Jack said. “Deanna helped rescue two B-17 crews and came back here with fourteen Jap prisoners.” He turned back to Kaz and talked of Stalin’s plans for Poland without missing a beat.