“Except for Josh Coburn being alive,” Kaz said. “Do you not see? You never would have gotten away with it.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. “It was like a curse came over me, and I had to protect this terrible secret. The first killing was almost an accident, then the second was so easy; it was as if it were fated. I never imagined it could be so easy. The rage I felt towards Daniel was nothing like I ever felt.”
“It was fate that made you stick a knife into Deanna’s heart,” I said evenly. “Not greed or fear?”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Boyle. Yes, I was afraid of being found out, terribly afraid. I think it was fear more than money. The fear of public shame and ridicule. I desperately didn’t want to be found out, to be unmasked as a common murderer. Now that it’s over, I’m almost glad you found me out. No, I am glad. I never really felt like Silas Porter. Sometimes I felt it was him doing those things, not me.”
“The insanity defense isn’t going to work, Porter,” I said. “So can it.”
“Believe what you will. I’ve finally told you the truth, such as it is. All I want is to ask you to do me one small favor.”
“What?” I said, disdain for this pitiful killer foul in my mouth.
“Could you call me by my real name? I’m tired of being Silas Porter. I am Peter Fraser, after all.”
Kaz and I were both silent, stunned at the fawning self-justifications of this man. Whose name I could not speak.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The late-afternoon sun cast shadows through the coconut grove, long slivers of darkness lengthening between the rows. We were on lookout, searching the ground in every direction, watching for an enemy expert at infiltration. Everyone except Porter, who sat slumped against a log, passive amidst the activity around him.
“There!” Trent focused his binoculars. “Hold your fire! It’s Ariel.”
He was alone, and he didn’t look good. His weapon was gone. Blood flowed from his shoulder, and he grimaced as he ran, his one good arm waving back and forth. Trent sent two men to help him up the hill and into the perimeter.
“What happened?” Trent said as a corpsman handed Ariel a canteen and began cleaning his wound. It looked like a through and through in his upper shoulder. Not bad, if you were near an aid station. Out here, it wasn’t good news.
“Hem dae,” Ariel gasped, then took another drink.
“Who? Johnston?” Trent demanded.
“No, other marine. Jap takim Johnston. We cross stream, see no denja. Japs jump us, shoot marine, shoot me, grabim Johnston. Hitim, drag away. I come kwiktaem.” His eyelids fluttered, and he collapsed.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” the corpsman said. “But he’s alive.” He and another marine carried Ariel to rest under the shade of a shelter half rigged up to a coconut tree.
“Now what?” Trent said, looking to the two officers present, even though we weren’t marines. “G Company still has no idea we’re here or the boats are coming.”
“Send your most expendable man,” Porter said. “We all know who that is.”
Trent looked to me. “He’s got a point. And he knows the way.”
“What if he skedaddles?” I said.
“Boyle, where the bloody hell am I going to go?” Porter demanded. “You know who I am; there’s nowhere I can hide. If I fail, well then justice has been served. If not, then those men have a fighting chance and we’re back to where we started.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why volunteer?”
“Two reasons,” he said. “First, think about my reputation as a Coastwatcher. Has anyone ever said anything about a lack of dedication?”
“No,” I said. “Sexton seems to hold you in high regard.”
“Right. This is part of my job. It’s what we do.”
“And the second reason?” Kaz asked.
“To start balancing the books. There’s a lot of lives need saving up there, John Kari included. Just because I’m a right bastard doesn’t mean I want them on my conscience, too.”
“Okay, but I go with you,” I said. “And you go unarmed.”
“Wait, Billy,” Kaz said. “You don’t know your way around the jungle.”
“But he does, and I’m not letting him out of my sight,” I said. “Sergeant Trent, you okay with this?”
“Yeah, I think it’s our best chance,” he said, giving Porter a hard stare. “You mean all that?”
“I do, mate.”
“Okay, here’s what we do.”
Trent gave me a flare gun with two red flares. Once we reached G Company, we were to send them both up, Porter assuring us they could be seen from our position. That would tell him to expect Bigger and his men by morning, as planned. A fire team of four marines would accompany us to the edge of the plantation, ready to move in if we ran into trouble. But only for the first thirty minutes. After that, we were on our own. Kaz, of course, was coming along with the fire team, promising four tough marines he’d pull his weight. They chuckled, not knowing how deadly he really was.
It was dusk as we walked through the coconut grove, nearing darkness as we came to the end of the cultivated rows. Porter explained to the corporal in charge where we’d be entering the bush and the route we’d be taking. Passwords were given: the call “little” and the response “Lulu” because of the difficulty the Japanese had pronouncing the letter L.
“Good luck, Billy,” Kaz said. “Keep an eye on him.”
“He’ll be in front of me the whole time,” I said. I was about to tell Kaz I’d see him in the morning, but it seemed like bad luck to repeat what Johnston had said not too long ago. So we shook hands, and I turned to follow Porter into the black jungle.
Once we were under the canopy, my eyes adjusted and I began to make things out. There was a partial moon and the reflected light filtered through the dense overgrowth, casting shades of black and grey everywhere, as if I were watching a motion picture.
“Stay with me,” whispered Porter.
“Right behind you,” I said. When I’d asked Porter why he didn’t balk at not having a weapon, he’d said it wouldn’t matter. If we stumbled onto the Japs, they’d have us in no time. Our only weapon was stealth, he said. Still, the feel of the M1 in my grip was damned reassuring.
We made our way through the bush, the sound of a stream off to our left, the distance never varying by much. I figured that was how Porter was navigating, but I wasn’t going to ask any questions. We walked carefully, Porter sometimes halting to point out a root or slippery stone. We were both wearing the new rubber-soled canvas boots, and it made for quieter going. My eyes had become accustomed to the dark, and as long as I kept focused on Porter’s back, I could make out where we were headed.
Stepping over a rotting log, Porter snapped a twig as he came down. We froze, the noise deafening even with the usual jungle sounds around us. There were no shouts, no sudden rustling of branches that signaled a Japanese patrol heading our way.
Porter looked at me and exhaled. I smiled, nodding, relieved that the misstep hadn’t drawn the enemy to us. Then I remembered: this man was the enemy. Out here, alone in the darkness, it was easy to see him as an ally. I needed to guard against thinking of him that way. A temporary ally, perhaps, but not one to count on.
We neared the stream, Porter looking up and down the waterway, listening for signs of movement.
“Is this where Johnston crossed?” I whispered. He nodded yes, his finger to his lips, his eyes fixed on rocks jutting out from the stream. I tried to focus, but I didn’t get it.