Mandeh knew exactly where he was. He and Imbi had been promised a large reward by the police and they had decided that their best bet was to be successful, claim the reward and, for safety’s sake, return to Sumatra. Yet, the nearer he got to the place where he and Imbi had been tied up, the more nervous he had become and the more foolhardy did the present venture seem. There was no way he could safely let Imbi know of his decision and he now thought that the odds against Imbi’s survival at the front were heavily against him. Mandeh turned round and went back the way he had come immediately the soldier at the end of the line moved forward.
Not long afterwards Rance heard a whispering coming towards him. A message from Sergeant Ruwaman? It was. ‘The other Sumatran guide has run away. Do we stop and look for him?’
‘Kulbahadur. Stay here until Sergeant Ruwaman reaches you and tell him in no way will we stop to look for him, there is no change in orders but to be doubly alert against any ambush. Got that?’
‘Saheb. I understand.’
‘Kamal,’ hissed Rance. ‘Am I right in not mentioning this to Imbi?’
‘Correct, Saheb. It will make him more afraid and he may also be tempted to run away. Also don’t tell the Cheena detective. I sense that he, too, is frightened.’
Rance asked Imbi how longer until we reach the place where the arms are and was told anything from one hour to three hours,’ Rance doubted it, thinking that he was too frightened to think properly. He probably hadn’t learnt how to tell the time by looking at a watch.
It was then half past one.
Once on the move again, Imbi put his right arm back and searched for Rance’s hand. Fumbled and found it. Grasped it. Rance involuntarily pulled his back but the grip was vice like. However hard he tugged he could not break lose.
‘Imbi, as long as you clutch my hand I won’t be able to fire my rifle.’
Imbi refused to let go and it was uncomfortable, inconvenient and sweaty but Rance bore it for, he later reckoned, about half an hour when, thankfully, the Sumatran let go, stopped and said ‘Over there. We have arrived.’
Once more the column bumped to a halt. Rance, almost under his breath, sent for his NCOs. Waiting for them to come, he listened intently. He heard a trickle of water and, in a break in the clouds, saw a small stream in front of him. The NCOs reached him. ‘Listen. We have arrived. I’ll ask Imbi to describe the place.’
To their half right about thirty paces away, the weapons had been laid out under some waterproof covering on the ground and to their half left, not quite so distant, was the shack where the two guides had been held prisoner.
Rance gave out his orders. ‘1 Section, move silently to the shack and see what you can find. Do not go straight up to it. Move round to a flank, listen and, if after five minutes you have heard nothing, draw khukris, use your torch and see if there is anyone inside. You will take the detective with you and he will arrest anyone there. Fire if you have to but remember the others are off to a flank.
‘2 Section. Take the guide with you to where he thinks the dump is. Once you have seen 1 Section’s torch, use your own to examine the ground. Look for any tracks.
‘Sergeant Ruwaman, go with 2 Section. If no one is there, wave your torch round and round. The other section will do the same if their area is empty of humans. I will stay here and use my voice to coordinate what follows. Any questions?’
There were none.
‘On your way.’ Ah Wong was standing next to him and was told in outline what was happening.
Both Section Commanders faded away, briefed their men and, apart from the odd rustle here and there, nothing was heard; an exemplary performance of professional fieldcraft. In the silence each man was conscious of his own pulse beat, the small crepitant rustle of clothing against his body and the thrill of the chase. Rance, Kulbahadur and Kamal stood quietly by the stream, straining their ears, waiting for an outbreak of shooting or the noise of a struggle as sleeping men were seized. They heard not a sound from either group.
In the hut Ruwaman’s torch beam began to probe around, licking like a lizard’s tongue into the corners. Tension broke when both sections waved their torch at about the same time. It was an absurd anti-climax. Rance broke the silence. ‘Any weapons?’
‘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.
