“You’ve got the transmitter and receiver,” Sexton said. “Plus the microphone, headset, and spare parts. Then a gasoline generator to run the thing, not to mention the fuel itself. Batteries for when the fuel runs out. Fourteen fella, just like Jacob said.”
“It must be very difficult,” Kaz said with typical English understatement. “Is four hundred miles a sufficient range?”
“No, especially if we sight aircraft coming in from Rabaul. So we relay messages from one post to another, until they’re received by the signals unit on Guadalcanal. That’s why it’s vital we have teams on every island, and that the teleradios remain operational. It’s not easy when the men are constantly on the move and staying off the trails to avoid Japanese patrols,” Sexton said. “And of course, the best observation point is always on the highest ground.”
“I had no idea,” I said.
“Good,” Sexton said. “We can’t brag about our work. The less the Japanese know about us, the better.”
“They always lukluk,” Jacob said. “Come to every island. Ask where radio? Kill the people if they no tell.”
“Do they tell?” Kaz asked.
Jacob shrugged.
“Only once in a great while,” Sexton said. “It’s usually someone from another island who has no ties to the local families. The Japs might have had better luck when they first came if they didn’t destroy gardens and shoot people indiscriminately. Now they’re thoroughly hated. If they send a small patrol to an island, they’re often never heard from again.”
“Daniel was from Malaita,” I said. “But he’d been on Pavau and then Choiseul. Could he have gotten involved in a dispute with the local natives?”
“Who then followed him to Tulagi?” Sexton said. “Not likely. If there was a dispute on Choiseul, it would have been settled there.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m trying to get a sense of where to begin. We usually get a chance to study the crime scene and view the body. We don’t even know where Daniel was struck.”
“On head. You want lukim?” Jacob said.
“I thought the body would have been buried by now,” I said. “Especially in this climate.”
“Yes,” Jacob said. “Body buried. But you can lukim Daniel’s head. I take you.”
“Take us to Daniel’s head?” Kaz said.
“Yes,” Jacob said, as if explaining the obvious to a slow learner. “Head about ready now.”
Chapter Twelve
“I do not like boats in general,” Kaz said, “and I do not like this boat in particular.” He used Jack’s cane as we boarded, the small craft rolling gently as waves slapped the hull. I didn’t mind boats in general, but I did wonder about this one.
We’d gone back to the hospital and commandeered the cane from a none-too-happy Kennedy while Sexton organized a crew for us. Once I told Jack it could eliminate him as a suspect, he calmed down a bit. Eliminating the cane as the murder weapon was closer to the truth, but I saw no reason to go into detail with him. Or to explain that Jacob was apparently taking us to Daniel’s head, sans body, on Malaita. That was the kind of thing Jack might see as a marvelous adventure and insist on coming along for the ride, the fact that he was a suspect notwithstanding.
“Don’t worry, Piotr,” Deanna said, patting his arm. “It’s only sixteen miles.”
“Round-trip?” Kaz said hopefully. Deanna laughed at what she thought was a joke. She’d returned to Sexton’s place as we were leaving, and asked to come along to provide what medical care she could to the natives. She’d arrived on board with a knapsack and musette bag full of medical supplies, a machete, and an M1 carbine.
“It’s been a while since they’ve seen a lik-lik doctor on Malaita,” she said. “That means little bit, by the way. It’s what they call nurses and the medical orderlies the government used to send out. Little bit doctor, that’s me.”
“Lik-lik GI,” I said. “Where’d you get the carbine?”
“A gift from a marine lieutenant,” Deanna said with a smile. “You haven’t heard the story?”
“No,” Kaz said. “Do tell and take my mind off this impending journey.”
“When Hugh first had me brought out from Vella Lavella, someone started a rumor that Amelia Earhart had been found. When we docked at Tulagi, there were about a hundred cheering men there to meet us. I had to disappoint them all. But one lieutenant was very gallant and gave me the carbine in case I ever found myself back on a Japanese-held island.”
“Jack and that marine probably weren’t too disappointed,” I said.
“A damsel in distress in the Solomon Islands will have no shortage of admirers,” Kaz said, as suavely as he could manage while holding on to the cane and the quarterdeck for dear life. “Even if she is not Amelia Earhart.”
“That’s sweet, Piotr,” Deanna cooed. “Ah, here’s Jacob with our brave crew.”
“Silas Porter’s the name,” the first man to board said in a thick Australian accent. “Glad ta meet’cha.” He wore a slouch hat and wrinkled khakis of undetermined nationality. He was tall, six feet at least, wiry with a fringe of long brown hair showing from under his headgear. Heavy boots, a big knife, a holstered revolver, and a Lee-Enfield rifle slung over a shoulder completed the picture. “We made it back from the briefing first, so Hugh told us to take you out. Nice day for a cruise, ain’t it?”
Next on board was a native, wearing a calico lap-lap with a web belt, bare-chested but otherwise similarly armed.
“Nem blong mi Billy,” I said slowly, showing off my linguistic skills before Kaz could beat me to the punch. I spoke slowly, so the native would be sure to understand.
“Pleased to meet you, Billy. I’m John Kari,” he said, speaking English that would pass muster in Parliament. I pretended not to hear Deanna giggle as Kaz introduced himself. In plain English, of course.
“John Kari speak English pretty damn good, eh?” Jacob Vouza said, grinning as he came aboard, well-armed himself. This got another round of laughter.
“Now don’t you two worry about the looks of this ship,” Porter said as Kari went below to start the engine. “It’s a bonzer vessel, and that’s the dinkum oil.”
“Silas not speak English so good, eh?” Vouza said, laughing and slapping the Aussie on the back as they crowded into the small bridge. Engine noises rumbled up from below deck as Kari popped up from the engine room hatch.
“It’s a fine ship, and that’s the straight truth,” Kari translated. “Silas lays on the Australian pretty thick when he first meets an American. All in good fun. He’s really a bastard.” He disappeared with a smirk on his face as Deanna cast off the lines and we headed out.
“Does anyone here speak plain old American English?” I asked.
“Sorry, mate, we’re having a bit of fun with ya,” Silas said as he leaned back. “We call a good friend a bastard. Meaning he’s a good egg.”
“But not the Englishmen,” Jacob said as the boat picked up speed.
“No, never,” Silas grinned. “Then he’s a Pommie bastard, and that’s a real bastard!” They both laughed, and I wondered at the wisdom of an ocean-going voyage with these madmen.
We left Tulagi and circled around Florida Island, getting our first view of Malaita in the distance. Smoke belched from the stack as the engine chugged and wheezed, but the boat moved at a decent clip. Bonzer enough for this short crossing.
“I understand Jacob is taking you to see Daniel,” Deanna said, the wind nearly whipping her words away.
“Perhaps not all of him,” I said. “Do you know what he’s talking about? Are there headhunters on Malaita?”
“No,” Deanna said. “They’re in New Guinea. It’s better that you see for yourself. Keep in mind this has much religious significance for Jacob and his people. While many Malaitians have taken to Christianity, they still revere their ancestors. And Daniel is with the ancestors now.”
“Well, I’ve been to a few Irish wakes, so I’m familiar with strange burial customs. Tell me, are you expecting trouble over there? You’re all loaded for bear.”