“Look!” Kaz said. “There, a man running between the palms.”
I saw him. Darting from tree to tree for cover and looking over his shoulder each time. The Sten gun dangling from his shoulder. The dirty khakis, the slouch hat.
“That’s Porter,” Johnston said, finding him with his binoculars. I didn’t correct him. He ordered two men to hustle ahead and intercept him before he got to the river. The rest of us followed slowly, fanning out in the brush, alert for any signs of the enemy.
“Do you think he is running away?” Kaz asked as we pushed aside tiger grass, its sharp edges slicing at our fingers.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Where would he run to? And why wait this long? Seems like he’s coming from a helluva fight.” Choiseul seemed a million miles away from Tulagi. Here, the Japanese were the terrible and immediate threat. I had to remind myself of Daniel Tamana and how his young life was cut short; Sam Chang, and how he survived months hiding in the jungle only to be killed in his hospital bed; and Deanna Pendleton, knifed in a filthy alleyway. The man who called himself Silas Porter was a killer far more dangerous than the enemy. He killed his own kind, and for nothing but lucre.
We finally broke through the tiger grass, the entire platoon spreading out to advance into the grove of trees. Ahead, I saw that the two runners had caught up with Porter, who was seated on a fallen palm tree, drinking from his canteen. I held Kaz by the arm and we stood back as Johnston, Ariel, and the radioman approached Porter.
“Where’s the G Company radio team?” I heard Porter ask Johnston. “They’re supposed to be across the river.”
“Gallaher?” Johnston asked. Porter nodded, a frown forming on his face as he worked it out. “Dead. The Japs got him alive.”
“Bastards,” Porter spat. “Does your radio work? We had another set with us, but it crapped out.”
“Sure,” Johnston said. “What’s the situation up there?”
The radioman took the heavy pack off and he and another marine began fiddling with it. As they knelt, Porter caught sight of Kaz and me.
“Boyle! What the hell are you two doing here?” His face revealed nothing but surprise. Either he had a good poker face, or was too exhausted to realize why we were with the marines.
“Never mind us,” I said with a smile I didn’t feel. “Lieutenant Johnston needs a briefing.”
“Yes, of course,” Porter said. “Kari and I, along with two scouts, guided Major Bigger and his men to Choiseul Bay. It took us a damn sight longer than we expected. Tough going if you keep off the trails. We attacked a Jap base and surprised them, did a lot of damage. Then we pulled back into the jungle and began to encounter patrols coming in from the eastern shore. That’s when John was wounded along with one of the scouts. The other was killed.”
“Are there many casualties?” Johnston asked.
“Three dead, about a dozen wounded,” Porter said. “The biggest problem is the radio. When the Japs hit us a few hours ago, Bigger sent me to try and make contact with our radio team across the river.”
“To call in the landing craft, I assume,” Johnston said.
“Yes. We’re being pressed hard right now. The major figured if the Japs occupied the river mouth, the LCs would never be able to get in and pick us up. Did you have any trouble?”
“No,” Johnston said. “We crossed further upstream after we found Gallaher. No sign of the other men, or the radio, for that matter.”
“Can you radio for a pickup now? I’ll head back and let the major know,” Porter said, looking anxious to leave our company. Johnston nodded and ordered the radioman to make contact with the landing craft. Then he called for a corpsman.
“Lieutenant, there’s some urgency here,” Porter said, his eyes darting nervously between Johnston and me. “Major Bigger’s held off the Japs so far, but they’re bringing in more troops and nearly have him surrounded. He didn’t want to make a break for the river until he knew the landing craft would be there. Otherwise they’d be cut to pieces with their backs to the water.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of everything,” Johnston said. “Give our Coastwatcher friend some Atrabine and salt tablets, Corpsman. Can’t take chances with malaria and dehydration out here. How’s G Company fixed for medical supplies?”
“Running short on these things,” Porter said, accepting the pills and the proffered canteen. I figured Johnston was deliberately giving me an opening, so I stepped in while he had the canteen raised to his lips and relieved him of the Sten gun hanging loosely off his shoulder.
“What the bloody hell!” Porter roared. “Give that back. Are you mad?”
“Not me,” I said, holding the Sten on Porter. Kaz darted in and took the.38 revolver out of Porter’s holster. Even though I knew his real name now, Porter stuck with me.
“Lieutenant Johnston, are you going to let this idiot get away with this?” Porter’s face turned red and his eyes widened, rage building up inside him. “There’s a company of marines that needs help up in those hills.”
“The knife,” I said. “Drop it on the ground.”
“I will not, not until you explain yourself, damn you.” Veins bulged on his neck, his hands balled into trembling fists.
“Josh Coburn is alive and well,” I said, stepping closer, the short barrel of the Sten gun aimed at his belly. “It’s all over.”
The fight went out of him. His face collapsed, the rage dissipating in the heat of the sun and the burning truth. There was still a witness alive. His deception and his crimes were out in the open. He fumbled weakly for the knife, not even realizing that Ariel had stepped in silently and slipped it out of its sheath.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Dig in!” Johnston commanded. “Set up the thirty-caliber over here.” The machine-gun team hurried forward with their gear and began digging out a firing pit with their entrenching tools. We were on the crest of the hillock we’d spotted from the ridgeline. It had a good field of fire covering the coconut grove, with a commanding view of the route to the river. The slope was a tangle of fallen trees, and Kaz and I helped to drag several of the trunks to the crest to help shield the machine-gun nest.
“What’s the plan, Lieutenant?” I asked Johnston as I took a gulp from my canteen, careful not to spill a drop. The late-day sun was still withering on the exposed hilltop.
“Anything more from Porter?” Johnston said, sitting on the edge of the foxhole he’d excavated.
“Nope,” I said. “Just the general direction of G Company, and that he ought to be the one to contact them.” Porter was slumped glumly against a log, his legs stretched out in front of him, oblivious to the work going on around him.
“He is playing his last card,” Kaz said, wiping the sweat that dripped into his eyes. “There is a chance he is sincere about getting back to Major Bigger, but if so, I wouldn’t trust him one second after he does so.”
“Agreed,” Johnston said. “Making contact with Bigger is too important to leave to the likes of him. I’ll take Ariel and another man and go myself.”
“You won’t make it,” Porter said, his voice dull and low, his eyes on Johnston. “Send me.”
“Not happening,” Johnston said.
“When are the landing craft coming?” I asked.
“Oh-seven-hundred,” he said. “It’s too late to bring them in today; we’d never get G Company here in time. So the plan is I make contact now, then we come back through here at first light, and head for the landing area. My platoon will provide covering fire and be the rear guard if we’re pursued. Then everyone goes home.”
“You’ll be pursued,” Porter said. “We should bring them back tonight, quietly, in small groups.”
“Negative,” Johnston said, without looking at Porter. He handed his binoculars to Sergeant Trent. “Trent is in charge while I’m gone. I’ll see you fellas bright and early.”
We wished him luck, and waved to Ariel as he jogged off with Johnston and the sergeant who’d wielded the Aussie commando knife. Kaz and I finished scraping out a trench behind one of the coconut logs, and pulled Porter in with us.