‘Comrade Lau Beng, ask him who the messenger is,’ demanded Chien Tiang.
The sentry was asked and said, ‘Comrade Kwek Leng Joo, the barman of the Yam Yam.’
The Political Commissar explained what an important man Comrade Kwek Leng Joo was.
‘Yes, Comrade Lau Beng. get the man brought in. This could be interesting.’ That was Yeong Kwoh speaking, belatedly feeling that it was he who should have spoken in the first place.
Comrade Kwek Leng Joo was ushered into the meeting and Lau Beng, who knew him well, introduced him before asking permission to interrogate him.
Granted. ‘Comrade, please tell us your news. It must be important for you to have made such a dangerous journey.’
‘Comrades, as barman of a nightclub in Seremban, the Yam Yam, one of my tasks is gaining information from the gwai lo who talk to me as they drink their alcohol. One of the most persistent is a sympathetic English officer, name of Captain Alan Hinlea, the Intelligence Officer of the Goo K’a battalion. He is a card-carrying Communist but is under the strictest orders not talk about it openly. He wants to join us and work with the Central Committee as an adviser on how best to counter colonial propaganda.’
A gasp like a soft wind escaped from every listener’s lips.
‘He also wants to marry one of the taxi girls and has mentioned taking her with him.’
Silence reined as the implications were considered. After a long, long silence Yeong Kwoh said ‘Thank you, Comrade. This certainly is news we must take full advantage of. Other than the woman who will have to stay in Seremban for any marriage to happen after we have won our struggle, the extrication and movement of the officer will need the most careful planning, a fool-proof cover plan and the closest monitoring. We will go back and get permission one way or the other and let you know in due course. It will take time but, if permitted and successful, eminently worthwhile. The need-to-know principle is paramount.’
The messenger was briefed how to let the gwai lo know what was being planned and not to breathe a word to anyone at all. He departed and, with a considerable lightening of the original atmosphere, the meeting continued for another day. The three senior men left in high hopes.
When a courier next arrived at the Regional Committee camp, Lau Beng told him to wait while he wrote a letter. It was to Ngai Hiu Ching and all it said was that his suggestions had been noted and that ‘we are preparing a thunder bolt that will do more damage than what you had in mind.’ He hoped that his elliptical reference would be enough to put his friend’s mind at rest.
Ngai Hiu Ching had heard the Radio Malaya broadcast about ‘a senior person at Juasseh Estate whose name cannot be made public’ and had wondered if it was Captain Rance being referred to. Later on, ‘no’, he learnt so he waited patiently for another occasion. He had already managed to contact, secretly of course, Lau Beng about the complaints he had received and his difficulty in suggesting how to resolve them. He was overjoyed at Lau Beng’s letter.
Politburo permission to contact Captain Hinlea and organise his journey onwards reached the Regional HQ and preparations were made for Hinlea to be brought to the camp on Bukit Beremban. And brought he was, having managed to steal many of the secret details of what was known of the guerrillas held in Special Branch. The Gurkha, Padamsing Rai, thinking he was talking to Hinlea, had been overheard by Rance and Hinlea’s reports were not Special Branch’s but cleverly forged ones designed to bring alarm and despondency to the guerrillas. Padamsing, never having contacted Kamal, was gently eased out, never fully understanding where he had gone wrong and once back in Darjeeling became a Bengali politician. The reports Hinlea showed to Lau Beng had such a devastating effect on Lau Beng’s morale he was unable to cope properly with his task.
Unbeknownst to the guerrillas, Captain Rance was alerted at Hinlea’s absence and the maskirovka planned by the turncoat came unstuck. Rance and four Gurkhas were sent to track Hinlea’s group, which consisted of the whole of the Regional HQ plus a military escort.
The tracking was of such a high standard that the guerrilla group never knew it was being trailed. It finished spectacularly: Lau Beng and some of his men were killed as was Hinlea, after a furious but unsuccessful attempt to kill Rance, otherwise he would have been captured. The news was never broadcast on Radio Malay so the Politburo had to guess that something on the way had compromised the operation. Also on the credit side was that Wang Ming, the Bear, and the few remaining MRLA soldiers were so won over by Rance’s performance that they were persuaded to work for the Security Forces as a ‘Q’ team, often with Rance.
December 1952
Siu Tae, a girl with a sad, sweet, young-old face, felt that by hooking a gwai lo in marriage, future life, however difficult, would be compensated by the untold wealth that every foreigner had. She knew what her hoped-for future husband was intending to do and that it would be a long time before any news could filter back that he was well and happy working with the MCP Politburo. But before anything definite was told her she began to hear niggling rumours that her Alan was dead. She asked both her manager and the barman but neither gave her an answer that satisfied her. It might just have been careless talk from one of the ‘Q’ team that his so-called friend Captain Rance – never any proof, mind you – had killed him. He had told her all that class were just the same, none could be trusted. Certainly there was evidence that Captain Rance had not been in the camp after her man had left her. Good enough! Siu Tae, who was pregnant by Hinlea, vowed that her baby would be a son – it was – who would make amends. She sought out her uncle, Deng Bing Yi, who worked in a garage and blurted the whole story out to him. ‘Don’t worry about waiting for your son, it’ll take too long. Let me see what I can do.’
He recalled a talk he had had with Ngai Hiu Ching when he had suggested trying to sabotage the gwai lo’s car when the gwai lo was inside, difficult though it would be to arrange it. Ngai Hiu Ching had acquiesced in principle but had suggested a more plausible occasion with detailed publicity would be more of a coup. It was now time for Deng Bing Yi to act. He was a skilled mechanic and during the war had sabotaged some Japanese cars by blowing them up and killing the occupants. If the man my niece wants to eliminate has his own car, as some of those officers have, that’s the best answer. I already service a couple of them. Time and place will be the problem, not what I can personally do. He wondered how best to set about solving his problem.
He decided he had three main tasks, the first was to make a bomb that would blow up a car. That would not be difficult because he had, or could get, what was needed as he still had some hidden away from the war years. The second was to fix it in the car that this Captain Rance was about to drive away – or be driven, it didn’t really matter – and the third was to get an accomplice to fix a date and place to an event that would ensure that the captain and his car would be there long enough for him to plant the bomb. The first two were comparatively easy as only he himself was involved: it was the third bit that was an unknown.
He looked at the calendar in his office and noted that on the 25th was Christmas Day which the British always celebrated. Was there any local who worked in the battalion who would be likely to throw a party for the officers, at his own place? If so, who? He racked his brain and came up with the idea of the fresh-ration contactor, Chow Hoong Biu, a friend of his. He knew that, in spite of his working for the British Army, his heart was not in it because the comrades in the jungle felt it was against their Cause. I’ll put it to him in such a way he can’t refuse.
Deng Bing Yi went to see Chow Hoong Biu one evening and, ever so gently, brought the conversation round to the comrades wanting information on operations. ‘Tell you what, I’ve just had an idea,’ he dissembled with an air of sagacity. ‘Why not invite some of the officers to a Christmas party at your place, get them drunk and talkative. The comrades will put less pressure on you for that and on me for suggesting it to you,’ he added dismissively. ‘Also do you know of anyone who would like to know what Captain Rance looks like from close quarters? If so, as a friendship gesture, ask a couple or so to come along also.’
Chow Hoong Biu considered that for a while, remembering how he had been approached by Wang the Collector – why not him as well? – and said, ‘yes, I like it. I do know someone who’d like to see him. When I next go to the battalion I’ll see the Adjutant and ask him to come along and bring a friend.’
‘Suggest he comes along with Captain Rance in the captain’s car. I know he has one as I service it for him.’
And, that being agreed upon, Chow Hoong Biu rang Deng Bing Yi at his garage and told him so. He also sent a letter to Wang the Collector telling him about it. Wang was keen. He knew how to drive, slowly. He could borrow a car so need not worry about a bus.
It was now incumbent on Deng Bing Yi. He knew how to make a bomb that would cause the petrol tank to explode and the car to go up in flames and be completely gutted when it hit a bump in the road. He knew what ingredients he needed. Basically some plastic explosive and as the car was a pre-war model, half a pound would be enough and two electrical detonators.
He had managed to steal some explosive from the Japanese when they were trying to quarry stone for some defences against an expected invasion. He had looked after it and it would still be usable. As for the electrical detonators, he doubted that the ones he had stolen at the same time, all those years ago, could be relied on. He knew Lee Kheng and, taking his two electrical detonators, surreptitiously managed to change them for two new ones. No worry now!
He had his own soldering iron and a small stick of solder, a roll of black insulating tape, a yard of thin wire and a pair of cutters. He needed something sticky and opted for some plumber’s putty. If he were to finish the bomb on the morning of the party it would not become too stiff.
Getting a nine-volt transistor battery, a small bulb one inch in diameter and two lengths of fine, single-strand, five-amp plastic-coated wire, each three yards long, one coloured red and the other blue, was no trouble. None was banned material, nor were some erasers to act as ‘jammers’.
He had his own supply of condoms to keep the active ingredients dry and all he now needed was an air-tight tin. His wife had one of tea she had not thrown away.
Now to make his bomb: in the lid of the tin he made a hole and cut enough of two pieces of wire to solder to both positive and negative terminals of the battery. Battery and wires went into the base of the tin and he inserted the detonator deeply into the plastic explosive. He filled the tin up so that it was full and the charge from the battery would fire the detonator and the plastic would then explode to ruin the car.
He then had fixed the trigger mechanism with a snapped hacksaw blade. He made a block of rubber with the erasers with the ends of the blade just wide enough to join when the car jolted so, with the wires in place the bomb, already live, was activated.
The possibility of Captain Rance not joining the party was something he had to accept but, no, on the night in question, he and the Adjutant, the latter driving, reached Chow Hoong Biu’s house and, with other guests ‘who didn’t matter’ as far as the bomb maker was concerned, gathered in force as the liquor flowed.
The bomb maker, from an advantage point, saw the Adjutant park his car under a lamp post. That was for Jason to get out. He did not see the car drive on as he was ‘nursing’ his stuff so did not see another car, very like the Adjutant’s drive up and park where the first had, momentarily, been. The Collector, who had borrowed the car, unwisely left it unlocked and the ignition key in place so there was no problem for Deng Bing Yi to open the bonnet, nor to shut it later when he had placed the bomb.
He had brought the bomb from his garage in his own car. With bonnet open, and no passer-by would take any notice of someone looking at the engine, it took no time to strap the explosive charge opposite the steering wheel. Two for the price of one he thought cavalierly. In his excitement the only extraneous thought that passed through his mind was that the car was overdue its regular servicing. He lowered the trigger mechanism, connected to the main charge by two wires, down through the engine space to the ground beneath.
He then had to wriggle under the car, again nothing worthy of notice to any passer-by. Using his torch he found the front suspension and tightly wired the rear end of the trigger to a bracing-bar. The bomb would now explode the first time the car hit a hump or a pot-hole with the positive and negative wires joining. He got up, dusted himself down, closed the bonnet and drove himself off, highly delighted for his niece’s sake.
The party at Chow Hoong Biu’s was a lively affair. Drink flowed and the tidbits that circulated were delicious. One of the guests was the ebullient Teochew, Tay Wang Teik. Standing next to him with a drink in his hand was Wang the Collector and Jason came up behind the pair of them in time to hear Wang lean over to his right and ask who the tall gwai lo was. Unable to resist the opportunity and as Wang took a sip of his drink, a voice came from Wang’s left, ‘Lee Soong’s bodyguard.’ So startled was the hapless Wang that he did the nose trick, coughing and spluttering. By the time he looked to his left there was nobody.
Before the meal Chow Hoong Biu introduced Wang and Jason. There was nothing more banal than the ‘how are you’ type of talk, Jason using ‘basic’ Malay. ‘Tau cakap Cina?’ asked Wang. Jason shook his head, ‘Ta’ tau,’ no, I don’t know how to speak Chinese.
The Collector soon had enough and, having seen Rance at close quarters was still not sure if he was the man who had delivered the message that night or the voice he had heard speaking Gurkhali on Radio Malaya, felt he had had enough for one night, excused himself, left the party and drove off, slowly, after all, it was dark and the car was not his. When well south of Seremban he was dazzled by a car coming the other way, swerved, drove the car into a ditch. The bomb exploded. The car’s petrol tank immediately caught fire and the car, along with Wang the Collector, was unrecognisable.
Not long after the Collector had left, the Adjutant came up to Jason and said, ‘I think it is time we left. Let’s say our thank yous to Chow Hoong Biu and go home.’
