‘Yes, that has indeed been established,’ Lyndon agreed, ‘but I believe the situation is a little more complicated. I believe your Mr Taylor had an inside man, a member of the 96th Battalion who aided and abetted the supply of alcohol to the troops.’

‘Yep, that’d make sense.’ Of course it would, Val thought. Jeez, Baz’s got ‘inside men’ all over the bloody place.

‘I have to tell you, Lyndon,’ she admitted, thinking it only fair she should be straight with him, ‘most of Baz’s business is conducted with the Americans here in Townsville. I mean it’s hardly a surprise, is it? Your blokes are the ones with all the supplies and all the money. Barter, that’s what the black market’s all about.’

‘Yes.’ Lyndon studied her closely. You’re one cluey gal, he thought, you know exactly the game you’re playing and the business you’re in. You’re probably as much a racketeer as he is.

‘You wouldn’t happen to be aware of a particular contact your “Baz” might have among the men of the 96th now, would you, Val?’

Val threw back her head and laughed heartily. ‘If I did, do you reckon I’d tell you?’

He gave a nod that Val read as ‘fair enough’ and she continued in all seriousness.

‘I don’t know any single one of Baz’s contacts, Lyndon,’ she said, ‘I make it my business not to. It’s safer that way.’

‘I understand.’ He did.

They were both silent for a moment, sipping their Bundys. Then Lyndon put his glass down and once again studied her, as if somehow sizing her up, or perhaps offering a challenge.

‘Do you think your Mr Taylor will tell me who his contact is in the 96th?’ he asked.

Val met his gaze, and also his challenge. ‘He will if I tell him to,’ she said.

Lyndon smiled. That was exactly the answer he’d been hoping for.

There was a tap at the door.

‘Come in,’ Val called.

Lyndon turned in his chair, expecting the arrival of the unscrupulous Mr Taylor, but instead it was the pretty fair-haired girl carrying a plate of sandwiches.

‘Thanks, love,’ Val said as Betty placed the plate in the centre of the desk, plonking down a couple of serviettes as well.

‘Baz’s on his way,’ Betty said, and turning to go she flashed a smile at the commander, knowing he’d been studying her body every step of the way as she’d crossed the room.