The Fourth Estate Read online

  “It may be Friday in New York,” replied Clive, “but I can assure you it’s Saturday here in Sydney. I’ll look forward to seeing you at the church in about an hour’s time.”

  “Oh my God,” cried Townsend. He dropped the phone, ran out of the customs hall without his luggage and emerged onto the pavement to find Sam standing by the car, looking slightly agitated. Townsend leapt into the front seat. “I thought it was Friday,” he said.

  “No, sir, I’m afraid it’s Saturday,” said Sam. “And you’re meant to be getting married in fifty-six minutes’ time.”

  “But that doesn’t even leave me enough time to go home and change.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Sam. “Heather’s put everything you’ll need on the back seat.”

  Keith turned round to find a pile of clothes, a pair of gold cufflinks and a red carnation all neatly laid out for him. He quickly removed his coat, and began undoing the buttons of his shirt.

  “Will we get there on time?” he asked.

  “We should make it to St. Peter’s with about five minutes to spare,” said Sam as Keith threw yesterday’s shirt onto the floor in the back of the car. He paused. “As long as the traffic keeps moving and the lights are all green.”

  “What else should I be worrying about?” Keith asked as he forced his right arm into the left sleeve of a starched shirt.

  “I think you’ll find that Heather and Bruce have thought of everything between them,” said Sam.

  Keith finally succeeded in putting his arm in the correct sleeve, then asked if Susan realized that he’d only just returned.

  “I don’t think so,” said Sam. “She’s spent the last few days at her sister’s place in Kogarah, and she’s being driven direct to the church from there. She did ring a couple of times this morning, but I told her you were in the shower.”

  “I could do with a shower.”

  “I would have had to phone her if you hadn’t been on that flight.”

  “That’s for sure, Sam. I suppose we’d better hope the bride will be the traditional few minutes late.” Keith leaned back and grabbed a pair of gray striped trousers with braces already attached, neither of which he had ever seen before.

  Sam tried to disguise a yawn.

  Keith turned to him. “Don’t tell me you’ve been waiting outside that airport for the past twenty-four hours?”

  “Thirty-six, sir. After all, you did say some time on Friday.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Keith. “Your wife must be livid with me.”

  “She won’t give a damn, sir.”

  “Why not?” asked Keith as the car careered round a sharp bend at fifty miles an hour and he tried to do up his fly buttons.

  “Because she left me last month, and has started divorce proceedings.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Keith quietly.

  “Don’t worry about it, sir. She never really came to terms with the sort of lifestyle a driver has to lead.”

  “So it was my fault?”

  “Certainly not,” said Sam. “She was even worse when I was driving the taxi. No, the truth is I enjoy this sort of work, but she just couldn’t cope with the hours.”

  “And it took you eleven years to discover that,” said Keith, leaning forward so that he could pull on his gray tailcoat.

  “I think we’ve both realized it for some time,” said Sam. “But in the end I couldn’t take any more of her grumbling about never being sure when I was going to be home.”

  “Never being sure when you were going to be home?” repeated Keith as they careered round another corner.

  “Yes. She couldn’t understand why I didn’t finish work by five every night, like any normal husband.”

  “I understand the problem only too well,” said Keith. “You’re not the only one who has to live with it.” Neither spoke for the rest of the journey, Sam concentrating on choosing the least congested lane, which would save him a few seconds, while Keith thought about Susan as he retied his tie for a third time.

  Keith was pinning the carnation to his lapel as the car swung into the road which led up to St. Peter’s Church. He could hear the bells pealing, and the first person he saw, standing in the middle of the road and peering in their direction, was an anxious-looking Bruce Kelly. A look of relief came over his face when he recognized the car.

  “Just as I promised, sir,” said Sam, as he changed down into third gear. “We’ve made it with five minutes to spare.”

  “Or with eleven years to regret,” said Keith quietly.

  “I beg your pardon, sir?” said Sam as he touched the brake, put the gear lever into second and began to slow down.

  “Nothing, Sam. It’s just that you’ve made me realize that this is one gamble I’m not willing to take.” He paused for a moment, and just before the car came to a halt, said firmly, “Don’t stop, Sam. Just keep on driving.”

  17.

  The Times

  24 March 1948

  WESTERN POWERS BOYCOTT BERLIN MEETINGS AFTER RUSSIAN WITHDRAWAL

  “It was extremely kind of you to come and see me at such short notice, Captain Armstrong.”

  “Not at all, Julius. In times of trouble we Jews must stick together.” Armstrong slapped the publisher on the shoulder. “Tell me, how can I help?”

  Julius Hahn rose from behind his desk, and paced round the room as he took Armstrong through the catalog of disasters that had befallen his company during the past two months. Armstrong listened attentively. Hahn returned to his seat and asked, “Do you think there is anything you can do?”

  “I’d like to, Julius. But as you understand better than most, the American and Russian sectors are a law unto themselves.”

  “I was afraid that would be your response,” said Hahn. “But I’ve often been told by Arno that your influence stretches far beyond the British sector. I wouldn’t have considered bothering you if my situation were not desperate.”

  “Desperate?” asked Armstrong.

  “I’m afraid that’s the only word to describe it,” said Hahn. “If the problem continues for another month, some of my oldest customers will lose confidence in my ability to deliver, and I may have to close down one, possibly two, of my plants.”

  “I had no idea it was that bad,” said Armstrong.

  “It’s worse. Although I can’t prove it, I have a feeling the man behind this is Captain Sackville—who you know I’ve never got on with.” Hahn paused. “Do you think it’s possible that he’s simply anti-Semitic?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so,” said Armstrong. “But then, I don’t know him that well. I’ll see if I can use some of my contacts to find out if anything can be done to help you.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you, Captain Armstrong. If you were able to help, I would be eternally grateful.”

  “I’m sure you would, Julius.”

  * * *

  Armstrong left Hahn’s office and ordered his driver to take him to the French sector, where he exchanged a dozen bottles of Johnnie Walker Black Label for a case of claret that even Field Marshal Auchinleck hadn’t sampled on his recent visit.

  On his way back to the British sector, Armstrong decided to drop in on Arno Schultz and find out if Hahn was telling him the whole story. When he walked into Der Telegraf’s office, he was surprised to find that Arno was not at his desk. His deputy, whose name Armstrong could never remember, explained that Mr. Schultz had been granted a twenty-four-hour permit to visit his brother in the Russian sector. Armstrong didn’t even realize that Arno had a brother. “And, Captain Armstrong,” said the deputy, “you’ll be pleased to know that we had to print 400,000 copies again last night.”

  Armstrong nodded and left, feeling confident that everything was falling into place. Hahn would have to agree to his terms within a month if he hoped to remain in business. He checked his watch and instructed Benson to drop by Captain Hallet’s office. When he arrived there he placed the dozen bottles of claret on Hallet’s desk before the captain h