‘Nothing at all, only marks on the ground.’

‘Everybody back here. Section Commanders check all your men are present.’

‘Saheb, there are three tins in one corner of the shack. I haven’t opened them. Do you want me to see what they contain?’

‘Yes. Do that right away.’

The Section Commander and two men went back to the shack and brought back the three containers, opened them and looked inside. ‘Only pamphlets written in Chinese. What do you want me to do with them?’

‘Let’s have a look at them,’ said Rance and flashed his torch at the contents. He saw the outline of a hammer and sickle on a red background. That trash. I suppose we ought to take it back with us but it’s too much of a bore. ‘Ustad, distribute them equally to each man and tell them when we cross that small bridge to drop them in the water.’

After the pamphlets were distributed Rance said, loudly enough for all to hear, ‘Listen to me, you have done well. Relax for a few minutes and light up if you want to but cup your hands. To hell with the smell. The stream will carry it away. I doubt the guerrillas know we’re here but if they do I believe they will think we’ll stay here, lie on the ground, go to sleep and, probably at first light, creep in and lob some grenades on us. As you have been told, on our way drop the daku propaganda into the stream. If we burn them it will take too long and might give our position away. They’re not worth taking back with us.

‘Kamal, fetch Imbi. I want to ask him where he thinks an ambush party might come from. And you, Enche Ah Wong,’ he added, changing into English, he asked the same question. No response came from Kamal’s questioning. There was no Imbi to answer. Neither he nor Mandeh were ever seen again.

‘Everyone listen. This other guide has run away. Cigarettes out. Back for half an hour as quickly as we can. I smell trouble.’

Back they went. At a clearing but with no dwelling nearby, Rance ordered a halt. ‘We’ll spend the rest of the night here. I don’t believe we’re in danger of an ambush now. You can smoke and doss down anywhere you feel leeches, cockroaches, scorpions, snakes and centipedes won’t molest you. Cover your face with the towel– if you have brought it – and try to sleep. At first light we’ll move back to where the transport will be waiting for us.’

At dawn, three Chinese, one dressed as a Special Constable, made their way from the jungle edge, grenades ready, and moved towards the hovel. Seeing nobody, they presumed nobody had come earlier. Not being the brightest of people, the unusual amount of scuff marks they saw around where the weapons had been meant nothing to them. They crept towards the shack. Nothing. Had they ventured even as far as the stream, they would have been alerted. They didn’t so they weren’t.

On the Friday evening Rance took his troop to the rubber estate that adjoined the Serting Forest Reserve and, in the moonlight, moved along the edge of the jungle until the land started to rise. ‘We’ll stay the rest of the night here and move off at dawn. Put out sentries,’ he told Sergeant Ruwaman and the others get as much sleep as they can.’ Rather against his will he had allowed the Chinese detective to go with them.

The evening before, the Killer, as arranged, met Lee Soong. After fraternal greetings, ‘Comrade, we got the message you sent to us. We found it insulting. We are not as big-mouthed or as useless as you think.’

Lee Soong looked at the Killer in amazement. ‘Have you got it?’

The Killer took it out of his pocket and sullenly gave it over.

Lee Soong read it, anger seeping over his face. ‘I never sent that. I only sent the one message for today’s meeting and demonstration. When and who brought this?’ and he gave it back. ‘Keep it and if ever you find writing the same you’ll know who wrote this. When did you get it?’

‘Wang got it two nights ago.’

‘I don’t like it one bit,’ said Lee Soong, wondering what or who was behind such an unexpected development. He looked sternly at his three hosts. ‘Something is wrong. Did you recognise the man?’

‘I saw the Gurkha who worked with you during the war,’ said the Collector.

‘The traitor! I knew it all the time. When you see him, kill him. That does not stop you looking for the writer of the message as that man doesn’t speak or write our language.’ He turned and spat. ‘I will depart as soon as your demonstration is over. As for the bogus messenger, he can’t be anyone outside this area so I am ordering you to do your level best to find out who he is. Understand? If it turns out to be someone from here I will do to you what I do to all traitors.’ And there was no doubt he meant every word of what he said.

Shortly after dawn Lee Soong sent some of his escort to clear the area. Standing orders. One, a local, had worked as a Forest Ranger, scoured the area and found nothing suspicious. They were now relaxed with no worry because peace and quiet had prevailed and sure that no soldiers had been anywhere near, the Killer put his plan into action. ‘I am glad, Comrade Lee Soong, you are ready for us. We now go to our look-out point on a small hillock where no one can approach us unseen. The firing will start after my bugler, who will be at the look-out, blows the order to begin.’

‘Comrade. That is most efficient. Well done. Red salute. Just don’t forget my orders …’

Just after dawn Rance thought it time to move. As he was giving out orders everybody heard a bugle call. It came from not far away and a volley of fire was heard. There being no ‘crack and thump’ it had to be range firing. Vegetation was so thick there was no chance of seeing their target. So as not to miss it, Rance sent out patrols towards the noise but spaced out.

They moved off and twenty minutes later the bugle blew again, much nearer. The firing also ceased.

‘Saheb, there is some high ground in front of us. It has good visibility all round. That’ll be the place to make for now.’

Yes, it has to be the place the shopkeeper told me.

‘Listen! 2 Section with Sergeant Ruwaman. Move off right with Kamal. I’ll move off slightly left with 1 Section and with the Cheena detective. 3 Section in reserve behind me. I’ll make cuckoo noises with my hands so we can keep in touch. If you shoot remember where we are.’ Rance had only heard cuckoos when he was under training as a Gentleman Cadet in the Indian Military Academy in Dehra Dun, India, where he had learnt how to blow exactly like one.

‘1 Section. With me. Inche Ah Wong come with me,’ and he used hand signs for the advance to begin.

The ground rose steadily. Rance could not see where the other section was so made cuckoo noises from time to time, hoping his ‘disguise’ would fool any ‘baddy’. It fooled ‘exercise enemy’ when training in India, so why not here?

The men, rifles at the ready and glad at a challenge, moved like the dedicated professionals they were.

Rance’s group reached the top of the hill, unopposed, and saw a make-shift look-out point of rough atap palm thatch. It was unoccupied. They found an alarm warning that could be operated by being pulled by a piece of string from inside, a military belt, some .303 rounds of ammunition and a kettle on the hob with a fire burning underneath and some tea leaves in an open tin, ready to make a brew. Hanging on the wall by a plaited straw cord was a bugle^[1] made from a buffalo horn. In one corner were two large tins. Inside one were a few more Chinese pamphlets with the hammer and sickle motif on the outside and in the other weapon training manuals and bill heads of receipts that the Collector, presumably, had given to those who had been forced to hand over money.

Damn and blast it. Just missed them. I really thought my trick would work. Rance was dismayed at their bad luck. Blue eyes burned. I’ll keep the bugle as a souvenir and have the hut burnt before we move off.

As he was waiting for the other section to join him he heard the call of a bird that he had only ever heard at dawn and dusk come from the jungle below him. He recognised it as the burong tetabu, the great-eared nightjar. It was answered. Five minutes later he heard the call again, fainter, answered, also more faintly. Rance said ‘Those are the escaping enemy who were here before we came. The guerrillas have split up so are using that call as a signal to keep contact with each other. We might have got them if we were a bit earlier.’

The other men joined them. Sergeant Ruwaman put out sentries. In broad daylight, the jungle below them lay black and foreboding.

‘Sergeant ustad, what’s that lying in a bush down there?’ called out a soldier who had been put facing the jungle as sentry. ‘It looks like a package of some sort.’

‘Go and fetch it.’

The soldier brought the package up and gave it to the Sergeant who took it over to the British officer and, saluting first, handed it over. ‘It was on a thorny bush at the jungle edge. It must have been torn out of the carrier’s hand as he passed it and he was in such a hurry he failed to notice it.’

Inside were some papers, written in Chinese. Rance scanned them and saw they bore instructions from the Politburo of the MCP. They’ll mean a lot to Special Branch. He showed them to Ah Wong.

As the detective was scanning them, Rance showed the Sergeant the contents of the tins. Before we leave, you will burn the hut and all the pamphlets with the hammer and sickle picture on the front. I have taken one which I will give in when I get back. As for the weapon training manuals and bill heads, distribute them for the men to carry back to the lines.’

‘Hunchha, Hajur. That’s the best thing to do with them. I’ll get on with the burning.’

‘Tuan Captain, this is a most important guerrilla operation order,’ said Ah Wong. ‘At the end there is a signature of one Lee Soong, a senior comrade who used to work in Singapore.’

‘Thank you, Inche Ah Wong. That is most interesting. Quite a haul for one day. I’ll take it back with me.’ Then, in a louder voice, ‘Sergeant Ruwaman. Now we’ll move off. 1 Section in front and back to the RV. Once back in the lines the rest of the day is free after you’ve cleaned your weapon. We all need a sleep. You have shown the highest standards of discipline and night movement. I am proud of you. Well done.’

The tea Rance had told the drivers to bring with them was delicious. While they were drinking it, the detective asked Rance, ‘Do you know why we did not catch those people?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ answered Rance, smothering a yawn. ‘It had to be a sudden move otherwise they would have had their brew of tea first.’

Ah Wong smiled. ‘You told them, Tuan. They knew we were coming,’ said with gentle irony.

Rance gasped in disbelief. Now’s not the time to be funny with me. ‘How could they know? I told them? Impossible. I’m too tired for bad jokes,’ unconsciously stiffening his back as he spoke.

‘But you did, Tuan. You let them know we were coming. I’ll tell you how. You made the noise of a bird that does not exist in Malaya. The people on the hilltop knew it had to be man-made, strangers, that is to say, soldiers, coming so, not wanting to be killed, wounded or captured, they made their escape, in two groups, before we got there – and only just in time. They probably thought that the maker of that strange bird noise would not have known that the burong tetabu was a dawn and dusk bird that never calls by day! They were likewise keeping track without a wireless.’

The Englishman put his head in his hands and groaned so loudly that Kulbahadur thought he had stomach ache. Oh Lord. I’m the biggest cuckoo of them all, he silently lamented. With all my boyhood knowledge how could I have overlooked that? ‘It’s time to back to the lines but I want to say one last thing. You were surprised when I asked you if you came from Penang. I’ll tell you how I know. You have Hai San tattooed on your shoulder in Chinese characters.’

The detective stared at Jason, so surprised he could find nothing to say before Jason continued, ‘the people engaged in the firing are Green Dragons. I advise you to be more than extra careful. It is just possible they saw you after they escaped and so think you have got possession of the dropped package.’

Ah Wong did not know what to say, so said nothing.