Ron looked guilty and Pete backed off, duly chastised. ‘Sure, sure, I understand,’ he said. ‘Didn’t mean to put you on the spot, didn’t mean to be pushy.’ He had of course meant to be pushy and it had paid off, to a certain extent anyway. His theory about trouble with the black troops of the 96th Battalion had been confirmed, and he now knew they’d been on their way into town. He’d previously thought the trouble had been contained out at Kelso.

He smiled apologetically nonetheless. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and he really did mean it. He didn’t want to get these boys into trouble.

‘That’s all right, mate.’ Realising the man was genuine, Midge added in all honesty, ‘We Nashos are shit-scared, I have to admit. You won’t find the other blokes saying a word either. We can get shot for talking out, you know.’

‘Yeah. Not a word. I promise.’

Pete had every intention of honouring his promise. There would be no mention, no hint, of where he might have obtained the information he now had, but everything would go into the report he was compiling. The report that would find its way overseas through whatever, as yet unknown, contact he might find.

And that contact was only days away.

‘You’re telling me what!’ Hank Henry was not as successful this time in disguising his contempt. In fact, he didn’t even try. He looked open-mouthed from John Carter to Samuel Robinson and back again, his expression verging on comical. As before, there was only the three of them in his office.

‘FDR himself,’ he went on, outraged, ‘the goddamned President of the United States of America is sending a congressman to Townsville to investigate a Negro mutiny we’ve been ordered to cover up! I mean, we’ve been told this shit fight must never see the light of day! And he’s sending a fucking congressman, for Chrissakes?’

‘Well, the guy’s actually a navy lieutenant commander,’ Carter stammered a little nervously, adjusting his spectacles. This time there was no mistaking Hank’s body language, which Carter was reading loud and clear. The major was mad as hell and John Carter found him most daunting. ‘He’s been sent out as an observer on bomber missions in the Pacific, but President Roosevelt’s ordered he return with a report on the black uprising in Townsville.’

John Carter’s explanation didn’t help matters.

‘The guy’s a fucking politician who’s been given a military rank simply to enhance his career after the war!’ Hank exploded. If there was one thing Hank Henry despised above staff officers it was politicians who, in his opinion, should stay safely behind their desks doing the bureaucratic shit they were born to do. ‘He’ll be some weedy, little brown-nosing son of a bitch who knows fuck-all about anything military. What’s the prick’s name?’