One Blood by Graeme Kent Read Free Book Online

the youngest of the three men.
    ‘It confirms the rumours about Kakaihe,’ said an older man. ‘It’s all we’ve got to go on.’
    The three men stopped arguing when the nun in her white habit entered the room. They regarded her with a mixture of surprise and hostility.
    ‘Good morning. I’m Sister Conchita from Marakosi Mission,’ Conchita told them. ‘I was just wondering if I could do anything to help after your bereavement?’
    ‘What bereavement?’ asked one of the men blankly.
    ‘Mr Blamire had his dreadful accident at my mission several days ago. I thought that perhaps under the circumstances you might need some sort of spiritual guidance from me.’
    One of the men guffawed. The other two silenced him with glances.
    ‘Oh, him,’ said another of the tourists. ‘We hardly knew the guy. He sort of kept to himself.’
    The oldest of the three men stood up and shouldered his way through to the nun, taking command of the situation as if by right. He was in his early forties, hatchet-faced, with a dark chin and a receding crew cut. ‘How are you, Sister?’ he said, extending a hand. ‘I’m Clark Imison. It was good of you to drop by. I’m afraid the rest of our party has gone over to Gizo for the market. Perhaps some of them might need your spiritual help, but none of us here are what you would call religious. Thanks all the same.’
    ‘How do you do, Mr Imison?’ said Sister Conchita, shaking the man’s hand. ‘I take it you didn’t fancy a shopping trip?’
    ‘Not in our line,’ replied the man. He was obviously trying to be friendly, but there was a nervous edge to his charm. ‘We’re just here for a tour of the battlefields. We’re off to Rendova this afternoon.’
    ‘Did you serve here in the war?’
    ‘All three of us did. The 43rd New England Infantry Division, XIV Corps, Lieutenant General O.W. Griswold commanding.’
    ‘The district must seem very different now in peacetime.’
    ‘Yes, ma’am; you can say that again.’
    Imison nodded politely, but said no more. The other two men regarded the nun restlessly. It was obvious to Sister Conchita that she was not wanted in the rest-house. There wassomething not right about the three men. They were definitely out of place in their tropical surroundings, three urban dwellers transported, probably against their will, to the remote island, like toys thrown carelessly into the wrong box.
    ‘How long have you been in the Solomons?’ she asked.
    ‘Lady, you sure ask a lot of questions!’ burst out one of the younger men.
    Conchita was disconcerted by the sudden display of animosity directed at her so openly and unexpectedly. Before she could answer, Joe Dontate appeared in the doorway. He arrived so suddenly that Conchita suspected he had been lurking outside in case of trouble. He regarded the three Americans with little favour.
    ‘Everything all right?’ he asked.
    ‘Just fine,’ answered Imison. ‘The sister was on her way.’
    ‘Sister Conchita goes when she wants to go,’ said Dontate quietly. ‘She’s highly thought of in the islands.’
    Imison flushed. Conchita thought he was going to object to Dontate’s tone, but then he seemed to think better of it and shrugged.
    ‘I was forgetting,’ he sneered. ‘You’re a big man in these parts, aren’t you, Dontate? High cockalorum, or whatever.’
    ‘Have you got a problem with that?’ asked Dontate.
    ‘It’s a free country, I guess. Primitive but free. You do what you’re paid for and we’ll get along all right.’
    ‘Right, if you’re sure I can’t be of any help, I’ll be on my way,’ Conchita said, trying to ease the atmosphere. ‘I have to get over to Gizo.’
    ‘Then we mustn’t keep you,’ said Imison, nodding with obvious relief. ‘I’ll tell the others that you called when they come back from their trip.’
    Joe Dontate walked back down the beach to Sister Conchita’s canoe with the nun. ‘See what I mean?’ he asked, not looking at her. ‘Tough