The Politburo said they would be sad to see him leave but quite understood his concern. ‘We will give you a send-off because you have done us so well.’

‘That is a kind thought which I appreciate. What I’d like to do is see this place Ha La and find out how Comrade Ah Fat and his people produced such an outstanding newspaper. I have seen copies of it and I think it is an object lesson for the comrades in China to do the same thing on their borders, both provincial and country.’

Yes, that was a good point. Why waste all that effort without passing it on? After all, it was almost on the way, wasn’t it? ‘When do you see yourself moving off?’

‘Not before the 20th and today is the 13th so I have plenty of time to fix myself for the journey. Of course I don’t need much as I will be escorted from one place to another but, as on the way down, sometimes we were stuck without anything to eat or anywhere to sleep for a night so I need to be prepared, just in case.’

‘Yes, that is a sensible and wise precaution.’

Ah Fat had already made sure that Meng Ru had enough basic kit to last the journey through the jungle. He had given him a spare haversack he had as his own was no longer waterproof and a cape was brought from the local market, as well as a torch. Basic rations had to be produced surreptitiously because on his journey back to China he would be looked after by his escort.

20 February

Meng Ru and Ah Fat spent the night in the same room and long before dawn the Bear and his four-man squad silently came in to take charge. The Bear had taken the precaution of going to see the Guard Commander the evening before and telling him how many men were going to leave camp at dawn and who they were. He had not forgotten an incident of earlier on in the year when a man, a courier in fact, who had come over to government side, had been left off the list so arbitrarily shot. That must not happen again.

He had checked everything and packed all his stuff before going to sleep and now, with a candle lit, all the Emissary had to do was dress and put his pack on. Ah Fat, along with the Bear and four men, went to the main gate, spoke to the Guard Commander and bid Meng Ru an effusive farewell. ‘Comrade, have a safe journey back to China. We, in the Politburo, sincerely thank you for all you have done.’ Traditional farewells were expressed, ‘May the fortune star shine on you from above’ with ‘Wishing you a tailwind journey throughout’ as it was a long, long way back to China.

The Emissary raised his arm in the communist salute and, as he turned to leave, took Ah Fat’s hand and squeezed it in thanks. Saying no more the group left the camp turning the way the route led to Ha La, three of the squad in front, the Bear, the Emissary and the other three men. They were quickly out of sight. ‘You do know who that man is, don’t you?’ Ah Fat asked the Guard Commander. Keep him unworried. Yes, the Guard Commander did and was glad that man’s aim had been accomplished so he could now go back to his family happily.

‘We need people like him, don’t we Comrade?’ he asked.

‘Indeed we do,’ Ah Fat answered with an inward and outward smile.

By now Jason had collected what he needed from the Quartermaster and, before he left the battalion lines that same morning, he drew a pistol as he felt that was the most likely weapon the notional man he was pretending to be would take, and ammunition from the arms’ kote. There was now no need to take a Very pistol with four reds and four greens. He had already had a long and earnest conversation with his four men, Goh Ah Wah, Kwek Leng Ming, Sim Ting Hok and Yap Kheng, all four originally from the 2nd Regiment of the MRLA commanded by Tan Fook Leong. The first two named men were of a high quality: the last two named were originally ‘gardeners’ on plots in the jungle to increase the MRLA’s food supplies and were not quite of the same calibre. Jason had wounded Sim Ting Hok in August 1954 but had managed to ‘save’ all four’s lives from a mock, illegal shooting. That should have sealed all four’s loyalty. All four were delighted to be free once more so Jason had no worries that ‘the green hell’ would recall them. And, in any case, in the area they were going they were unknowns. They had been so struck by his unusual character that among themselves they had given him the nickname of Fut Sum Pao, the Buddha-hearted Leopard. This was because of Rance’s sometimes fierce and terrifying appearance that belied his Buddha-like kind heartedness. They don’t look unlike my A Company men, do they? Same age as the riflemen, same eyes, same high cheek bones, a bit fairer in the face. Do? Of course they’ll do. Damn well have to, won’t they! He knew they did not belong to a Secret Society: he had seen them stripped and there were no tattoo marks. Moby had told him that they belonged to the same tong, brotherhood.

He decided not to go to A Company where the new OC might not have welcomed him so went to the Police Station to collect his four Cheenas where he met Moby and before setting off for Kuala Lumpur, all of forty-two miles off, checked each man’s kit. Good, all present and correct.

They drove to the Defence Platoon who had been warned of their arrival. Rance had told the driver he’d go back to Seremban on the morrow. After settling his men in, he telephoned the Director of Intelligence, announced his arrival and asked what was the time the recce.

‘Be at the Air Flight lines at 1400 hours, you and two others. When you come back, come to my office and see me. I’ll warn the relevant people. I hear you have changed your group’s composition and want to know why after all we talked about.’ He did not sound the best pleased.

Jason acknowledged the flight timings and said he would report back on his return. So far, so good – but how far is so far?

The pilot of the Auster had over-flown Jason and spoken to him by radio on several operations. ‘Great to see you in person,’ he said, introducing himself. ‘You seem to get around a lot. The last time was away over to the east.’ ‘Goes with the job,’ answered Jason, smiling broadly as they shook hands.

He told Goh Ah Wah and Kwek Leng Ming to get in the seats behind the pilot, showed them how to fasten their belts and shut the door. Both were thrilled and a bit frightened by this new venture. The pilot took out his map and spread it open. ‘Now, I gather you want to fly up the Sungei Perak. Exactly where do you want to join it? Surely not from the coast inland?’

‘No, no. Please take her up straight to Fort Tapong and then fly alongside the river up to the border, but of course not flying over it. If you fly to one side on the way up and the other on the way down my two men can see it clearly.’

‘Yeah, that makes sense. Your men don’t look like or sound like Gurkhas,’ he said enquiringly.

‘No, they don’t because they’re not.’ Jason opened the door and, putting his head inside, and said, ‘from here we are going to fly to Fort Tapong. That is where we fly to tomorrow and from where we will go upstream by boat. I can’t say how far the boat will take us but we will have to walk to the border once the boat can get no farther. We are going to fly along the river to the border and I want you to look out of the window going and coming and remember what you see. When we are on the ground it will help us recognise any danger points.’

The pilot listened in, amazed at Jason’s fluency. The two men nodded their understanding and a few minutes later they took off. From Fort Tapong onwards the river narrowed. Watching from the plane they could see some dangerous rapids, bends and twists in the river and the jungle coming to the water’s edge, even disappearing under the canopy for most of the last quarter of an hour’s flight before turning back. Jason always looked down on the jungle seeing it an impenetrable sea of cabbages, but knowing full well it wasn’t. What struck him was that he could see no traces of any bombing, The only ‘holes’ in the jungle were away to the east and looked like Temiar ladangs. For the two Chinese it was almost too much to digest but it gave them a sense of proportion and importance that would otherwise have been lacking.

As the plane flew up and down the river Temiar and guerrillas looked up to see if they could spot it. It was not often planes flew above them but this one was flying straight: what could it mean? Ah Soo Chye, about to leave Kerinching’s ladang, thought it could be following the Sungei Perak. Does this foretell Security Force movement? If so we might try and ambush what comes along. It would take a day or so to get to a good spot he knew about.

‘I have been told that you have decided not to go with any Gurkhas, nor to take a radio set with you,’ said an ill-humoured Director of Intelligence. ‘Instead you have four SEPs and no radio. Isn’t that military madness in the extreme? Won’t it mean that the operation is bound to be a failure?’

Jason knew that he had to handle this one carefully. Colonel Mason noticed Major Rance’s hesitation before answering. ‘Sir, on mature reflection it struck me that I would be safer with an all Chinese group and therefore to have a Gurkha with a radio set would be out of place.’ He said no more.

‘That’s all very well if you were going on a guided tour in a peaceful area or on a picnic but, man, this is guerrilla country,’ retorted the Colonel, still not liking Jason’s idea one little bit. ‘And what about you?’ Before Jason could answer, ‘Does your CO approve? Does he even know about your ridiculous idea?’

‘Yes, sir. He does.’

‘And his reaction?’

Jason stayed silent.

Exasperated, Colonel Mason said, ‘Major Rance, answer my question, what was your CO’s reaction to your idea?’

‘There was no reaction at all, sir.’

‘How can that be so? There must have been a reaction. How can there not have been one?’

‘Because it was his idea, sir, not mine.’

‘His idea? Do you know why?’

Again Jason did not answer.

Colonel Mason, normally a placid man, exploded, ‘For heaven’s sake, answer me.’

‘Sir, he told me he would not allow any of his Gurkhas to go on such an operation so I had no choice but to re-plan.’

The Director of Infantry realised that Jason had been in a quandary and his silence was merely loyalty to an order he was in no way responsible for so he immediately calmed down. He stayed silent as he thought out the enormous strain that would attend Jason. Calmly he asked how Jason visualised contact with any guerrilla.

‘Sir, if I tell you, you will indubitably forbid me. Wouldn’t it be better to let you know after my return how I managed to bring back the Emissary?’

It was now Colonel Mason’s turn to be in a quandary. It was a situation that he had never previously encountered. He temporised. ‘Aren’t you being over-theatrical in giving me such an answer?’

‘Sir, you will, I expect, have read Sun Tzu,’ Jason began to his superior’s amazement. ‘You will recall that he wrote “Supreme excellence in generalship consists of breaking the enemy’s will without fighting.” I am basing my plans on that theme. If you can keep this to yourself and not stop me from going, I will grasp the nettle and let you know how I will manage.’

‘All right, go on then. In my job I know how to keep secrets.’

‘Sir, once we are on the ground, we will wear guerrilla kit, shirts, trousers and caps. If we meet anyone hostile on the way up we will not be Security Forces. I will be a turncoat from the government trying to join the MCP in Betong so ask for free passage so I can be taken as a comrade. I’ll have my face covered so won’t be recognised. I have no fear linguistically so it will also be “in plain sound”.’

The Colonel listened, eyes button bright. ‘And on the way down?’

‘Say I am a Russian pretending to be an Englishman coming to infiltrate the government as a double agent. I travelled from Moscow to Peking and on down to Betong, where I have just left.’

The Colonel’s eyes probed him like a scalpel as he considered the implications. ‘And that is the only way you think you can manage?’

‘Not “think”, sir, but “know”. Under those circumstances, nothing else came to my mind, sir. There is a Nepali proverb, “the goat to be sacrificed has had the gods enter it by sprinkling it with water; all that remains is for something to go wrong”,’ and his face was lit by a fleeting smile.

The Colonel digested this piece of esoteric Nepali folklore before saying ‘I must ask this. Who else knows of what you have decided?’

‘Only three, apart from you. One is Ismail Mubarak, Head of Special Branch, Seremban, who had to be told to get the CT kit ready, and one is Mr C C Too. Let me explain. I felt that to ask these four SEP to undertake such an operation with no recompense was asking too much. I needed authority to give them a bonus and permission to let them off the SEP list and be free men once again.’