“That’s all he said?” Kaz asked.
“Yes, boss. He said it was a big secret, and to not tell anyone. But I don’t think it matters now.”
“Hardly what John Kari told me about Chang’s dealings on Pavau,” I said, once Kao had gone.
“He didn’t want to compete with Lever, I believe you mentioned,” Kaz said. “It may not be a contradiction.”
“No, but Chang working a secret deal with Lever might have been bad news for Kari. Could have put him out of a job.”
“Or perhaps Chang was expanding and would have put both Daniel and John to work, for all we know,” Kaz said. It was hard to dispute his logic. We really didn’t know much.
“It’s a loose thread,” I said. “It deserves pulling.”
“I may know the perfect man to help,” Kaz said. “A fellow by the name of George Luckman was on the flight from Brisbane with me. He works for Lever Brothers and is touring the Solomons to assess how soon the plantations can get up and running.”
“How does a soap executive rate transport on military aircraft?” I asked.
“Because glycerin is used in making soap,” Kaz said. “They produce nitroglycerin now, given the shortage of raw materials to make soap. And for the good of the war effort, of course.”
“Sure,” I said, “but now that the Solomons are being slowly liberated, it’s time for people to lather up again.”
“I would think that is in Lever’s interests,” Kaz said. “Luckman is traveling under the auspices of the Australian Department of Trade and Customs, so it is logical to assume the government is interested in new tax revenues as well.”
“The taxman always wants his cut,” I said. “Do you know where Luckman is hanging his hat?”
“With Hugh Sexton, so he can get up-to-date reports from the Coastwatchers.”
“Makes sense, since so many of them are planters. Let’s grab our gear and pay him a visit.”
We packed up and told Kao we were headed for Rendova and weren’t sure when we’d return. We tossed our bags into the jeep and paid a visit to Sexton’s headquarters. We found him hunched over his map table, a small-scale map of the Solomon Islands spread out from end to end. An older man in nondescript pressed khakis held a pointer, tapping it on the islands to the north.
“Ah, Lieutenant Kazimierz, good to see you again,” the gent said, his English accent proper but without the lazy cadence of the upper classes. He stood ramrod straight, his short-cropped hair grey at the temples and thinning on top. He looked old enough to have served in the last war and intelligent enough to have made a lot of money since then. Kaz introduced us and I watched Sexton as he did so. His eyes darted between us, confused at the familiarity until Luckman explained that he and Kaz had been traveling companions.
“What can I do for you?” Sexton said. “We’re a bit busy at the moment, if you don’t mind.”
“Actually, I have a few quick questions for Mr. Luckman, if you don’t mind the interruption,” I said, idly gazing at the map unfolded across the table. It wasn’t a military map. At the corner, in fancy print, the legend read: Lever Brothers Limited-By appointment-Soapmakers to H.M. The King.
“Glad to help, although I don’t know how I can,” Luckman said. “The lieutenant told me a bit of your inquiry. Dreadful business, murder during wartime, especially so close to the front lines. Practically aiding and abetting the enemy.”
“There must be quite a pent-up demand for soap,” I said, ignoring his pompous little speech. “Are you here to reopen the plantations?”
“Is this part of your investigation?” Sexton said, his irritation clear.
“No, just idle curiosity,” I said, tracing my finger along the islands on either side of the Slot. The map showed ports, towns, roads, and plantations. Some were colored red, others blue. “What are the colors for?”
“The red are plantations owned by Lever Brothers and managed for us. The blue are independent properties,” Luckman said. Like most people, he didn’t mind talking about a subject he knew well and cared about. “Several on Guadalcanal are back in operation already. The fight was mainly contained on the northeast side of the island. The plantations were hardly touched, except for the buildings. If the Japanese patrols didn’t burn them out, your chaps bombed them. But it’s the trees that are important. It takes ten years for a coconut tree to reach peak production. Compared to that, rebuilding a house is simple.”
“Does it matter to you if a plantation is one of yours or owned by the grower?” I asked.
“Individually, no,” Luckman said. “There’s really no one else to sell to, so it’s not a matter of access to resources. But to establish quality and a reliable crop, it pays to run the majority ourselves.”
“So on Pavau, for instance,” I said, studying the island northeast of Choiseul where one blue section stood alone. “There’s one local plantation on the north side, and the rest on the south are all Lever. Any difference in the copra production?”
“None,” Luckman said. “Why do you ask?”
“No special reason. Just curious about a fellow who worked for you there. John Kari, a native fellow. Well-spoken.”
“Kari?” Luckman said, furrowing his brow. “On a plantation? Can’t recall the name. Was he a foreman?”
“He worked in the harbor,” I said. “Keeping books on the copra deliveries and managing the sale of supplies your ships brought in, if I remember correctly.”
“Kari, yes, now I remember,” Luckman said. “We do employ staff at some of the harbors where several plantations bring their crops. Easier to manage that way. Not a very demanding job, except when the ship docks. Once or twice a month it was, at Pavau, I think.”
“He’s a Coastwatcher now,” Sexton said, trying to pull the conversation back to familiar ground.
“Really?” Luckman said, a look of surprise on his face.
“We have several natives working as Coastwatchers,” Sexton said, somewhat defensively. “Plus those who serve as scouts and porters. All good men.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Luckman said. “But I wouldn’t count John Kari as good. My memory is that he’s a thief. We were about to sack him and bring him to Tulagi to be put under arrest. But then the Japanese swept through the islands and the matter was forgotten, until you reminded me of his name.”
“Let me guess,” I said, “this happened after you cut a deal with Sam Chang. He was going to pay you to give up the supply business in the islands where he operated. Which would have put John Kari out of work.”
“You are well informed, I’ll give you that,” Luckman said. “It was about the same time, yes. But that doesn’t give Kari an excuse for out-and-out theft. He was overbilling the customers and keeping a good portion for himself. Not exactly grand larceny, but still, we couldn’t stand for it.”
“Did Sam Chang report this to you?” Kaz asked.
“Yes, he was the first to have his suspicions. He had talked with several plantation managers, finding out what they wanted from more frequent deliveries. When he saw what they were being charged for a case of whiskey, he thought Lever was gouging them.”
“Surely you didn’t mind making a profit from the sale of supplies?” I said.
“A profit, no. As is stands, the ships go out empty, so why not use the space? But we also want our people happy with the arrangement. Our focus is the regular delivery of copra, not being a greengrocer. We were happy to turn it over to Chang. He’s a good businessman. I hope we can still come to an agreement when the fighting moves on.”
“That’ll be tough,” I said, noting that he didn’t say when the war is over. This businessman didn’t look far beyond next quarter’s profits. “He’s dead.”
“Don’t tell me,” Luckman said, looking to Kaz. “He’s one of the two victims.”
“Three now,” Kaz said.
“Bloody hell,” Luckman said. “The Japanese are bad enough. I hope you catch him.”
“That’s going to be tough as well,” Sexton said. “By now he and Silas Porter are deep in the bush on Choiseul. They went up to Rendova yesterday and were dropped off early this morning.”