Designated targets

SOUTHWEST PACIFIC AREA HEADQUARTERS

General Douglas MacArthur was getting mightily pissed off at being ambushed by these characters. He stalked back and forth across his office in Brisbane. He was already late for the press conference he'd called up on the Line, where he was going to take the reporters through his victory, step by step. He had half a mind to just go anyway, to leave the prime minister hanging. But he restrained himself, mainly because he wanted to know what fresh hell Jones was about to spring on him.

It had to be something to do with Bundaberg. Some crazy scheme they were cooking up to steal his thunder while-

"General, it's Prime Minister Curtin on the phone, sir."

"About time," he grumbled, before switching to a more appropriate tone as he picked up the heavy, old-fashioned handset. It was fu

"Yes, Prime Minister."

The harsh, flat accent of the Australian PM crackled out of the earpiece. "General, I'd like you to hold off on that press conference you're pla

MacArthur barely contained the outburst that instantly threatened to erupt past his lips. He drew in a quick breath and waited out the political leader.

"Jones is still some time away from taking Bundaberg, and we've had a request from Colonel Toohey, the Australian field commander, to alter the operational plan. They want to try to rescue the surviving townspeople. They're being held in an open field some distance from the town center, and Jones agrees that it's worth trying.

"In that light, I'd rather we didn't go trumpeting our success on the Line just yet. It should be only a few more hours."

MacArthur had to squeeze his eyes shut and fight the urge to bellow down the phone. "Prime Minister, with all due respect, I have to disagree. The Japanese have spent themselves in front of the Line. They've collapsed, and that part of our operation is effectively complete. I don't see how it can have any effect on what Jones or Toohey are pla

His rage was so great that he had passed beyond the point of mere anger and into a strange calm place, where everything was devoid of color and utterly flat. His voice didn't shake at all as he spoke.

Curtin probably understood him better than did his own commander in chief. At least the prime minister hadn't handed him a fait accompli. He was shrewd enough-or considerate enough-to present the matter as a choice, not an order.

"As I said, it's only a couple of hours, General. It simply means there'll be more for you to talk about with the press. And you'll want to familiarize yourself with the details of Bundaberg, so you can handle any questions arising from that, too."

"Yes, I suppose I will," MacArthur agreed.

"One other thing, General. We're keeping this business of the dummy convoys under our hat for the moment. Young Ke

MacArthur glowered just at the mention of the Ke

"Perhaps not, but let's wait and see. Colonel Jones says that if they can lay their hands on him, he will talk."

At this MacArthur turned to his office window, squinting into the late afternoon glare. The city of Brisbane seemed to doze in the heat of an early summer. It had been spared, for now, but he still wondered what plans Tojo might have for all the other divisions he'd withdrawn from China.

And MacArthur was irritated at all the attention that had been focused on Jones and Toohey's sideshow, rather than on the magnificent defensive effort he had organized to the north of the city. He couldn't help but indulge himself in a moment of spite. "I suppose you read Ke

"Of course," the PM replied warily.

"Were you not disturbed by the actions of that young female officer? The Australian? It seemed to me that she lost her head completely when she opened fire on those men in the water."

MacArthur could tell he'd scored a small victory when Curtin didn't reply immediately.

"Prime Minster?"

"I had an opportunity to speak to Captain Willet about that matter, General. She assured me that Lieutenant Lohrey's actions were in no way out of the ordinary. Not as far as their rule book is written, anyway."

The PM's voice carried a suggestion of sadness.

"It was an ugly business, General. Very ugly. But you're a soldier, and I don't doubt that you've seen just as bad, if not worse. I'm afraid that, given the emergency we face, I ca

MacArthur hadn't been expecting that at all. He found himself caught flat-footed for a moment, unable to reply.

He had followed the debate at home, the pros and cons of allowing Kolhammer to run his little fiefdom as a separate country, if only for a limited time, but the hysteria surrounding that decision was largely a matter of Sunday school morals-an argument about the bedroom, not the battlefield. Still, Curtin must have taken his silence as an invitation to continue.

"The press is already ru

MacArthur shooed away an aide who appeared at the door. Curtin had tapped into some of his own, very strong misgivings. Whilst he had welcomed the incredible power of Jones's MEU and Colonel Toohey's Armored Cavalry units, he had to admit that he found some of their procedures to be deeply disturbing.

"I don't know that we're in a position to judge them, Prime Minister. It's not simply a matter of supporting your allies. They've been at war for twenty years. Can you imagine what your people, what mine would be like, after fighting with the likes of Tojo and Hitler for that length of time? Not much different, I would assume."

A sigh came through the handset. "You're right, of course. I had just hoped that things might be different in the future."

"That's a pipe dream, Prime Minister, I'm afraid."

"Let's hope not," Curtin replied.