‘Yes, I go along with that. You said three others. Who’s the third?’

‘My Company 2 ic, sir, my Gurkha Captain.’

‘Why him particularly?’

Again Jason hesitated before answering, ‘to write to my mother explaining everything in case I don’t come back.’

Some way along from the camp at Betong along the path to Ha La was a track that led south towards the border. The Bear’s squad reached it towards mid-afternoon. By then the Emissary was tired. Although he had regained his strength after his arduous journey, he was no longer a fit man and by now he was lagging. The Bear knew that the only reason he himself was still alive after so many years of jungle living and so many near misses was because he took nothing for granted. He didn’t believe that anyone from the camp would follow up but one could never be sure. He had travelled along that track so many times he knew it like the proverbial back of his hand and knew that about half a mile ahead was a north flowing stream. Once there he would take his group up it for a few hundred yards then jink back to the track until he found a place they could spend the night. That way, were there anyone following them, they would be safe.

The Emissary didn’t like getting his new footwear wet – the others went bare-footed – but kept quiet about it. Back on the track the Bear found a place where they could spend the night. He had divided some basic rations, rice chiefly, among his men, and, with their parangs, they constructed rudimentary shelters by cutting branches, which they covered in leaves and topped with sheets of waterproof material to keep out the rain.

After their meal logs were collected, a fire was lit to keep animals away and, taking a risk of not bothering about sentries – after all, they were not at war in Thailand, were they? – they drifted off to sleep.

21 February

Colonel Mason was quietly shocked at what he had learnt about Jason’s change in plan and felt it was in everyone’s best interests to say nothing about how matters had developed. He was in two minds to ring the CO of 1/12 GR but decided against that until, when? Until Major Rance had gone on leave? He had had his Deputy, a major, arrange the heli and transport for the five men. He had also arranged for Police Field Force boats – originally he had said only one but better to have a spare with such a tight programme so two had been ordered – to arrive at Fort Tapong the previous night but he himself thought it would be a gesture of solidarity if he himself went to see the group off.

The Royal Air Force ‘Whirlwind’ helicopter pilot was the same person who had lifted Jason, some Gurkhas and the same SEPs out of the jungle previously. He waved to them as the crewman ushered them inside and told them to belt up. The engine was switched on and the rotors started turning. No one bothered about the sack Jason carried. When all was ready it lifted off, Colonel Mason waving as it did, Jason’s Nepali proverb running through his mind.

Ah Soo Chye heard the heli in the distance. Must be something to do with the plane I heard yesterday. There’ll be someone somewhere along the river. On, on.

22 to 25 February

The Bear’s group with the Emissary found the going hard. It was not just the terrain that was getting rougher, steeper and colder but the nearer the line of mountains that formed the border the more it rained. Meng Ru didn’t grumble, he wasn’t that sort of man, but he slowed everyone down so it was lucky that the meeting on the border was not scheduled until the 25th. Wild animals were the only threat and the noise the group made – much too loud for the Bear’s professional standard – was, if anything, a bonus as it scared the forest creatures.

The helicopter ride took more than half an hour as Fort Tapong is a good way up the Sungei Perak. The Police Field Force had been alerted to marshal the heli and once it had landed, Jason and his men, having been bare-headed in case their hats blew off and damaged the rotors as they exited, quickly deplaned. Once they were clear the marshaller gave the sign for take-off and away it flew.

The OC was a Malay Inspector and his number 2 was a fine-looking Sikh. ‘Welcome, sir, welcome to Fort Tapong. It is not often we have people landing by heli.’

‘Thank you for marshalling us in so successfully,’ Jason answered, his smile open and friendly. ‘Let me introduce my men’ and, in Malay, told the policemen their names. They shook hands.

‘Would you like a meal before you move off in the boats? Both came last night. They want to move off as soon as you are ready but a quick meal will not harm matters.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It is only half past nine. I’ll tell the crews to be ready to caste off at ten o’clock.’

Jason asked his men, still in Malay, if they’d like a meal – ‘we don’t when we’ll see hot food again’ – and the offer was eagerly accepted. ‘For me a cup of coffee would go down very well,’ he added. ‘I’d like a word with you while my men are eating.’

‘Come along in,’ said the Inspector. They went to the upper floor where the open windows caught a breeze. Coffee was brought and Jason asked how much of his operation they knew.

‘All we have been told that there is a top-secret operation with the planning name of “Emissary”, nothing else.’

‘Let me explain,’ Jason said, sipping his coffee. ‘I have been tasked to go to the border and bring down a Chinese man of huge political importance and that is why my squad is one of SEPs. We are going to walk up to the border to meet him and bring him back …’

‘Yes, your boats will be here on the evening of the 26th to meet you at the boat point on the 27th.’

Jason nodded agreement at the dates. ‘Not having operated in the part of the country yet, although I had an aerial recce yesterday, my first two questions are how much river traffic is there and what is the CT situation? By that I mean how much is that activity out of the ordinary and/or how much would it alert the CT?’

‘Since the Baling peace talks life has been much quieter. In this area there has been a Special Branch operation, “Bamboo”, for some time, winning over the orang asli, or trying to win them over from the CTs. It is possible that any CTs who heard yesterday’s and today’s air activity would be suspicious.’

Jason thought about that. ‘You will have noticed I have no radio. That is on purpose. Also we are not carrying anything heavier than pistols. The last thing I want is a firefight. What I am asking is, is it at all possible for a squad of yours to move with us to the boat point, walk up and down in the vicinity, leaving tracks that show them to have gone back down river? The boats can wait half an hour at the disembarking point for the crew to stretch their legs. Also, a patrol moving around this area locally might make the CTs think the heli reinforcements were for here and not upriver.’

The Inspector looked at his Deputy and asked, ‘What do you think of that? I think we can manage that, can’t we?’

‘Yes,’ the Sikh answered. ‘The stand-by section is always rationed and ready to move. Let’s send them.’

Jason thanked them saying it was a great bonus and it made him feel much safer than before.

Orders were given and the two boats, one with Jason and his four and the other with the police, moved off at a quarter past ten.

To start with, the journey was of interest with flocks of hornbills, and monitor lizards on the sandy banks, otherwise it was much of the same: thick jungle either side with, initially, an occasional Malay village. The river narrowed and was slowed by his boat breaking its shear pins on underwater snags several times. As the hours passed it grew uncomfortably hot with no awning, and cramped. The river wound around the contours, with a strong current in the main channel. There was one place where the river fell a couple of feet – this is what I saw from the plane – and Jason asked if they could get out and walk the short distance to where the river was calmer. ‘It will make the boat lighter and let us stretch our legs.’

It was early evening by the time they reached the point where the boats could go no farther. Out they got, glad the uncomfortable journey was at an end. The boat drivers were adamant that it was too late to start going back. They and the police squad were prepared to spend the night where they were. Jason said to Goh Ah Wah that there was time to go on farther. ‘We can’t change into guerrilla clothes with these people watching, can we?’

‘Sinsaang, no. That is wise. In any case those people make too much noise for us.’

‘Goh, let them. Any guerrilla will concentrate on them and not on us.’

Two of them recced forward a couple of hundred yards, saw nothing and came back by which time Jason had found a small cave. At the back of the cave they hid the sack with their Security Force clothing in, wedging it into a corner. ‘We won’t cover it with leaves as they will be out of place,’ said Goh Ah Wah. Half an hour later there was just enough light to make a rude camp, collect wood to make a fire, take out their hard tack, eat it and before they went to sleep Jason got them to listen to his plan, which he had yet to tell them. ‘You know we are going as far as the border. That was why we had that recce yesterday. We need to move quickly and act as though we were not Security Forces but as real guerrillas. That means all four of you will walk in front and I come along at the back. If you meet any guerrilla your cover story is that you are escorting a European from the government who is a turncoat going to join the MCP in Betong. I will hide till then and, when you call me as proof, I will join you with a camouflage veil over my face. There should be no difficulty as we will be on the same side and not hostile to one another. Incidentally, the chief guerrilla’s name is Ah Soo Chye and his lieutenants are Lo See and Tek Miu.’

The four Chinese were greatly amused at Jason’s plan and laughed softly. It appealed to their sense of humour. ‘Sinsaang, that is fine for the way to the border. What happens if we meet these people on the way down with the Emissary?’

‘Oh, I have a different story. I am a Russian pretending to be an Englishman. I travelled from Moscow to Peking and my job is to try and join the government and spy for China. The Emissary, the man we are escorting back, is my Chinese guarantee that I have been accepted as genuine. When we get to Malaya I will find him a job to work with me.’

That unheard of ruse was meat and drink to the four men: they already had a high opinion of the Buddha-hearted Leopard and now it was higher still. Jason felt what he thought of as ‘friendly vibrations’ emanating from his four and felt more confident that he had yet to feel. They stoked the fire then settled down and went to sleep. Next morning, dressed as guerrillas with Jason’s camouflage veil round his neck for instantly covering his face, they set off for the border.

The track that ran along the river was easy to follow and they made good time. They found signs of men moving both ways and only once met anyone, a group of orang asli with their blowpipes. No words were exchanged, neither party taking any notice of the other. Jason felt it was almost too easy but none of them ever let up their guard. Game abounded in the area: bear, elephant, rhinoceros, tiger, deer and pig, recognised by their spoor. They also found a large patch of trampled and bloody undergrowth and a pig and a python that had fought to the death. They heard high-pitched animal noises and had the rewarding sight of three otters fishing in a stream as they were making their way for the pass to the west of Gunong Gadong on the border.

They reached the pass over Gunong Gadong on the 24th. By then they were alert as wild animals and, although none mentioned it, tired, dirty and hungry. They looked around and found the stone border marker with a scratched hammer and sickle in the stem. Against everything that had been said about not crossing over the border, Goh Ah Wah and Kwek Leng Ming went about five hundred yards over on a patrol, looking for signs of the others.

The Bear was worried lest he was late reaching the pass. Meng Ru was so whacked that at one point up a particularly steep slope his pack had to be carried and he pulled up. At midday on the 25th the Bear was delighted to hear a cuckoo noise in the distance, thrice drawn out, pause, twice quickly, pause, thrice drawn out.

‘We’ve arrived,’ he told the Emissary and made a noise like a gibbon, thrice drawn out, pause, twice quickly, pause, thrice drawn out. Jason’s men looked at each other smiling broadly. ‘As planned,’ muttered Jason before putting his hands to his face and repeating his signal. The gibbon answered, much nearer and Jason’s men heard people coming. Jason called out ‘bird, monkey and now men, all welcome.’

The Bear’s group came into sight and automatically everyone, except a dazed-looking elderly man, waved at each other. Jason and the Bear hugged each other, and Jason shook hands with the rest of the group in that he knew them all before the Bear introduced him to Mang Ru, who had flopped down on the ground, panting heavily. Jason saw he was wearing ordinary civilian dress and a floppy hat. ‘Greetings and welcome. You have covered the uphill part of your journey. It is all downhill from now on. We will look after you as you are now ours. Your new companions are …’ and he pointed out his four men, naming them as he did. They started talking to him to make him feel at ease.

The Bear looked at Jason, nodded and moved off. Jason followed him. When out of earshot the Bear said ‘you will have a job to get him to move as quickly as you want.’

Jason nodded. ‘Yes, I can see he’s in a poor state.’

‘I have told him that I am only responsible for him until I hand him over to you. Of course he knows you will supervise him until you reach Kuala Lumpur but has no idea of details as neither P’ing Yee nor I know them, nor has he asked me about them. He seems a placid man who doesn’t fret unduly. He’ll do whatever you decide.’ The Bear looked at his watch. ‘Shandong P’aau, it is time I started on my way back. I am glad we have met. Before I go, take these two tins of Thai sardines and a jar of Ovaltine for a present for any guerrilla you might meet. He’ll know you really are from Thailand, won’t he?’

‘That’s tradecraft in a really big way! If we meet any they’ll love the Ovaltine. Thank you. And a present for your son’ Jason put his two hands in front of his face and made them talk to each other. ‘Don’t forget to tell Wang Liang I remember him,’ said one hand. ‘No, I won’t,’ said the other. He had done this in front of the Bear’s son, Wang Liang, to his unforgettable delight only a month or so back. The Bear broke out laughing. ‘I’ll tell him but I won’t be able to demonstrate.’

Jason’s four men had seen that little play. They knew he was a ventriloquist and were enraptured. Mang Ru had seen it and smiled gleefully as it was something new and unexpected.

Farewells said, the Bear’s group moved off and got back to Betong where they reported that the Emissary was now safely on his way home. It was not a lie: only which ‘home’, old or new, was not specified.

‘Sinsaang Meng Ru, I am the man my boyhood friend Ah Fat told you about. These four men are also my friends. They are all jungle trained as indeed am I. Our task is to take you safely to Kuala Lumpur.’ Meng Ru was impressed. ‘I see you have hope in your face: you may also have it in your heart. My plan for the next two days, three if you find our pace too quick, is to move on quietly along the line we came up. Until now we have not met any Malayan guerrillas. Whether we will or not is an unknown. If we do, we will claim also to be guerrillas. That is why we are wearing these clothes.’

Meng Ru nodded then said, in objection to Jason’s plan, ‘but how can you pass as a Chinese guerrilla? Nobody would ever think you were Chinese.’ He looked perplexed. ‘Surely that will prevent our getting to where we have to reach?’