Flight of the Eagle (52 page)

Although Terituba's knowledge of English was limited he understood the emotion in the officer's voice. Nor could he understand why he had risked his life to save the whitefella except a spirit voice had told him to do so.

And so they parted – Terituba riding out with Sergeant Johnson for Barcaldine; Gordon riding east for the Balaclava property with the wounded Calder sitting groggily astride a mount, jammed between two troopers.

The irony of Terituba's courageous act was not lost on the young inspector as he rode east with his troop. Only a year earlier they had met in a struggle to kill each other. Now the same man who had permanently marked Gordon with his axe, had used the same weapon to save him.

Gordon's patrol was not alone in riding east. When Willie Harris came to from his drinking binge he found his horse grazing nearby. He pulled himself into the saddle and through a haze of rum fumes sought sanctuary from those who would search for him. He remembered Kate Tracy's stories of the hills of Glen View Station. Hills where very few people visited because of a supposed curse on them.

Willie turned east for Glen View where he would lay low until he could figure out a safe way to reach Sydney. He had very little left to do in his life except to meet the man who was his father and kill him. He had nothing to lose anymore. He fully knew that he was most probably facing the gallows should he ever be captured.

FIFTY-FOUR

G
ranville smirked as he held up George Hobbs' statement to allow the ink to dry. ‘You have done the right thing, Mister Hobbs,’ he said to the frightened man sitting opposite him on the other side of Granville's desk. ‘I know that you have a high regard for Captain Duffy but there are more important issues at stake than your misplaced loyalty.’

Hobbs did not reply. He felt that he would rather answer for his act of treachery in the next life rather than face the devil in this one. What matter that the rich fought their battles, when he was but a mere pawn in their games? At least Mister White had also provided a large sum of money to sweeten the treacherous act. He knew that his statement corroborating Granville's forged entries was damning. He could imagine the headlines of any newspaper that might run an article on the supposed allocation of monies to an organisation viewed by the government as hostile to the peace of the British Empire: HERO OF THE SUDAN A TRAITOR TO THE EMPIRE …

At least, Hobbs consoled himself, the newspapers would not be told of the entries. Mister White would probably just confront Captain Duffy with the false evidence. Captain Duffy would realise how a public disclosure of the accusations would bring a terrible scandal down on Lady Enid, even though he would know that the accusations were fabricated. But the captain was an astute man and his commonsense would prevail. Mister White had given his word as a gentleman that Captain Duffy would simply be asked to resign his position as head of the shipping department and be provided with a stipend so that he could pursue his interests in the colonial militia. The army was still his love and so drafting the document probably the best thing he could do for the captain in the long run.

‘You may leave, Mister Hobbs,’ Granville said without looking at him. ‘Just remember that your support on this matter will benefit not only you but also the future of the company. I am sure that under my management you may expect promotion.’

‘Thank you, Mister White,’ Hobbs mumbled as he rose and headed for the door. He closed the door and noticed a slight and nervous man standing in the annexe with his hat in his hand. ‘Mister Hobbs, isn't it?’ the man said by way of greeting. George remembered who the man was. The realisation sickened. With his head down, he pushed past the man who stepped aside. Was Mister White's power so great in Sydney that he could induce Lady Enid's own newspaper to be part of the sickening conspiracy to besmirch the name of a true hero?

‘Mister Larson, please take a seat,’ Granville said as he rose and indicated the chair that had only just been vacated by George Hobbs. ‘I wish I could say it is a pleasure to meet with you again but I am afraid that under the circumstances I have requested this meeting there is little pleasure in what I must tell you.’ Larson took the seat and Granville felt a twinge of fear. Getting George Hobbs to cooperate he had known would be easy. He had known the man for many years and as such was aware that he was basically a weak man, easily swayed by the power of his betters. But the editor of Enid's newspaper was a different matter. In his late forties Mister Larson was a man with a reputation for integrity–an unusual characteristic for a newspaperman. But he was also known for his zeal in pursuing stories that might discredit the upper classes. It was this combination of integrity and zeal that Granville most wanted to work for him against Patrick Duffy.

‘I received a message that you have a story for me concerning Captain Duffy?’ Larson said bluntly. ‘You do realise that I work for Lady Macintosh?’

Granville forced himself to appear calm. ‘It is for that reason I decided to call you in rather than have any other journalist be the first to break the story.’

‘What story, Mister White?’ Larson asked.

Granville detected just the hint of a journalist's sudden interest in the scent of something worth a headline and began to relax. He knew how he would manipulate the meeting and win Enid's own editor on his side.

‘I am afraid the story concerning Captain Duffy is one that, no matter how much we would attempt to conceal the facts, would eventually get out. Knowing this I decided that you should be the first to know, and somehow break the story with as little damage as possible to the reputation of Captain Duffy.’

‘Any damage to Captain Duffy's reputation will also reflect on Lady Macintosh,’ Larson replied with a frown. ‘My position as chief editor with the paper won't be worth a penny.’

‘I am aware of that,’ Granville said. ‘After the story concerning Captain Duffy is out I am sure the board of directors will insist on me taking charge of all the enterprises. And that includes the newspaper. I think you know what that will mean for your future.’

He could see that Larson was thinking very hard but not entirely convinced. It was time to tell the story.

‘Recently George Hobbs brought a matter to me of grave importance. It seems he could no longer bear to be party to what appears to be Captain Duffy's rather treacherous acts.’

‘With all respect, Mister White,’ Larson scoffed. ‘It's well known that George Hobbs has always been loyal to her ladyship. I find it hard to believe that he just suddenly decides to mention something that might embarrass her.’

‘Would this convince you?’ Granville said, sliding the now dry statement across the desk. Larson read the statement and Granville could see from the sagging of the newspaperman's jaw that he was almost convinced. ‘Hobbs would corroborate these words?’ Larson asked, holding up the paper.

‘You can question him yourself,’ Granville replied. ‘As a matter of fact, I can have one of my men fetch him here, to do so if you wish.’

Larson shook his head.

‘Hobbs mentions John O'Grady as the recipient of the payments,’ Larson said quietly, as if chastened by what he had read. ‘How does he know about O'Grady's subversive activities against the Crown?’

‘I suppose he reads your paper to know that, Mister Larson,’ Granville replied with a wry smile. ‘We have all read about that Fenian's rabble rousing activities in Sydney to raise funds for his treacherous compatriots back in Ireland.’

‘And Hobbs has dutifully recorded the payments, supposedly made by Captain Duffy?’

‘Duffy underestimated Mister Hobb's loyalty to the Crown,’ Granville countered when he noticed a doubt cloud the astute newspaperman's face. ‘He made a presumption that Hobbs's sense of loyalty to the family would be greater than his loyalty to the Queen.’

‘It's all a bit circumstantial,’ Larson said, toying with the hat in his lap. ‘But I have a duty to investigate the story and publish the truth.’

‘That is all I ask, Mister Larson,’ Granville said with a smile. ‘An act of treason cannot be dismissed – no matter who is involved.’

‘I will talk to O'Grady,’ Larson said as he rose to leave. ‘If he confirms that he has been receiving regular amounts from a benefactor – amounts that correspond with those recorded in your ledgers-then I suppose I have no choice.’

Granville knew that the Fenian would unwittingly implicate Patrick. The payments had been made, at a financial cost to Granville, and duly appeared as from the mysterious benefactor only known as ‘The Captain’. Granville trusted the editor to have the ability to get at least that much out of the Irishman. Newspapermen were good at that sort of thing.

‘Should I find that your accusations are founded in my investigation,’ Larson said in parting, ‘I will not publish the story until Captain Duffy returns from Africa. It is only fair that I hear his side of the story.’

‘I would expect no less,’ Granville replied, trying to hide his disappointment. ‘I am sure that Captain Duffy will naturally refute his role in the affair.’

Larson did not reply but closed the door behind him. As much as he disliked White, from the knowledge that he had obtained over the years concerning the man's reputation for dabbling in seamy deeds, he had to admit the evidence would stand up in a court of law. Even if the courts were to find the man innocent, the mud would stick, and the conservative members of the Macintosh board insist on Granville White taking full control. Duffy would be out and her ladyship could not live forever.

Besides, being a man of integrity he was also a practical man, who knew that he would do his job, and let the facts lead where they may. At least he had granted Captain Duffy a chance to defend himself. Larson had been perceptive enough to note the bitter disappointment in White's face when he had informed him of the delay to any headline. That was at least a little satisfaction to the newspaper man who happened to like his boss, Lady Macintosh.

He left Granville White smirking at how easy it had been to discredit his hated enemy. With Duffy out of the business Enid had lost her most powerful ally against him. All it took was a little money and a reputation for absolute ruthlessness to achieve his aims.

Granville's smirk slowly evaporated as his carriage rattled along the streets bound for his sister's house. Despite his clever scheme to discredit Duffy he might still be thwarted by letters that had been brought to his attention by his solicitors this very day. It was a matter that must be sorted out if he was to consolidate his share of the Macintosh companies and only one person was standing in his way. The one person who had in the past denied him a son and heir.

The carriage rattled to a stop outside the darkened house. Granville stepped from the vehicle and glanced around nervously. Although the alcohol consumed at his club had fortified his courage he was skittish that Fiona might not be alone. He feared that his sister Penelope might be with her and Granville had long learned – and with good cause – to fear her. It did not take brute strength to be a dangerous adversary, just a fertile mind for plots and counterplots. Penelope had inherited that ability as had he.

When he rapped on the door he was met by a sleepy and surly maid in her nightdress who was about to chide him for the unexpected and late visit. ‘I am Mister Granville White,’ he said arrogantly. ‘And I have come to visit with my wife. So stand aside woman and allow me to pass.’

The sleep addled maid attempted to bar him but he brushed past her and in the process handed her his hat and cape. Confused, she accepted the items and he was gone before she could react any further. She glanced out the door to the carriageman waiting patiently on the driver's seat. ‘It's all right, love,’ he said with a grin. ‘Mister White is married to Missus White.’

She shrugged and shuffled back to her room. It was obvious from his means that the man was not some street ruffian and if he was visiting his wife then it was no concern of hers. Missus White was a guest of the Baron's house and her duty was to the Baron and the Baroness.

Granville found his wife in her room and she sat up as the door swung open. He was framed in the doorway against the light of the hall and instinctively Fiona drew the bed sheets around her chin. He entered and sat in a chair beside a chest of drawers in a corner of her room.

‘What are you doing here, Granville?’ she asked in a frightened voice.

‘Oh, I thought you could guess the reason for my very rare visit to your boudoir,’ he said with a slight slur.

She knew immediately he had been drinking. He was most dangerous when he was drunk! ‘I want you to get out immediately,’ she hissed.

But he only chuckled as he proceeded to light a thin cigar. For a moment the flare of the match framed his sweat glistened face in the dim light of the room. ‘You may be under my sister's roof, dear wife, but I am legally your husband with rights I can take any time I so desire. Remember that well.’

Fiona tightened her grip on the sheets and felt a wave of nausea well in her throat. Dear God! He had come to force his unwanted attentions on her!

‘I have come to ask you why my daughters have turned against me?’ he said in a menacing tone which did nothing to allay her panic.

‘I do not know what you mean,’ Fiona answered honestly. ‘How can you say your daughters have turned against you when you haven't seen them in years?’

‘Because both have rejected my offer to buy out their shares in the Macintosh companies. I received a letter today from Germany.’

Now Fiona was fully aware of her husband's reason for visiting her room. ‘They are old enough to know what is best for them, Granville,’ she replied. ‘If they wish to retain their shares in the companies, then that is their prerogative.’

‘You know damned well that they would have sold to me as their father. Unless they were advised otherwise.’

‘I do not know what you mean,’ Fiona lied.

‘Damned liar of a whore,’ Granville hissed back savagely. ‘Dorothy had already written that she and Helen were advised by you not to sell to me.’