Next morning at daybreak Jason drove hack to the Parachute Company in Kluang and spoke to the new OC. He told him he was bored with Singapore and had decided to spend the rest of his leave going places that had been too dangerous in the Emergency. I’d like company and, just in case I do meet any baddy or need help in a breakdown, please let me have my batman, Chakrabahadur Rai, to go with me. We’ve worked together well in the past and who knows we may need each other again.’

‘Of course, old boy. Sorry, can’t say that now to a colonel, can I? Yes, sir, of course you can.’

Jason laughed. ‘I’m still a major till the 1st of July.’

The Bear’s son had been posted to two other places and had hurriedly been sent back to Grik by C C Too a week before he had alerted Jason so he not seen the noodle-seller since the day he had been slashed, way back in 1963. The police report had ‘lapsed’. He was, therefore, surprised and suspicious to see him yet again outside the Police Station. He was even more suspicious when he saw the man who sometimes called himself Tan Wing Bun and sometimes Tan Wing Hoong draw up in a car, lean out of the window and speak to the noodle-seller before driving off. Could it, he asked himself, just be a coincidence or is it linked to Operation Blowpipe? If the latter there must have been a leak – but, if so, how?

He called two of his men and from his office window pointed out the noodle-seller. He gave them the background of yesteryear but forbade to mention Jason’s impending visit. ‘When the man leaves here follow him. Find out where he lives and, without rousing any suspicion, bring him back here after dark.

‘If he asks why?’

‘Tell him his papers need to be looked at and not to lose face with people who know him it is better to check them after dark.’

They brought him in at ten o’clock and led him to Wang Liang’s office. He was told to show his permit to trade. This he did. ‘It is in order,’ he said, looking at the three men who glared at him ferociously.

‘Take off your pants and show me your bottom,’ commanded Wang Liang.

‘No. I’m not one of those. Why should I?’

A nod from Wang Liang and the other two gagged him, tied his hands and stripped off his pants. The man wriggled, twisted and turned in desperation, spluttering the while. Once his rump was bare, Wong Liang said, ‘I see you have a scar. If you promise not to make a noise I’ll take the gag out of your mouth and you’ll tell me how you got it. If you do not keep your promise,’ and he picked up a nasty-looking parang, ‘I’ll make another scar on the other buttock.’

The man’s eyes bulged. ‘No, no,’ he tried to shriek but merely spluttered in his spittle.

Wang Liang put the parang away. ‘Will you talk?’

The man nodded his head, relief in his eyes. ‘Ungag him but keep his hands tied,’ Wang Liang commanded.

He was ungagged and tried to wipe his mouth.

‘How did you get that scar?’ the Inspector asked him. ‘Answer truthfully.’

‘I, er, I slipped when I was about to decapitate a sheep for us to eat and the knife cut me,’ he stammered.

‘Liar,’ and his face was slapped, not hard but hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. ‘If you don’t tell me the truth be ready for the other buttock to be cut even though there are no sheep here.’

The man was no coward but, in the end, he admitted he had thrown a rock at a military vehicle hoping to cause an accident.’

‘Why? What made you do that?’

It took a long time to unwind two reasons, one was about a photograph that had been given him to try and find the man in the picture and to report it to his next senior and one was ‘I was told by the man who employs me to do it.’

‘And who is he?’

Nothing would get the man to say. He was obviously terrified. ‘You know we could put you in jail for throwing that rock if you don’t tell us.’

The man was desperate. ‘He’ll kill me if he knows I’ve told you,’ he gasped.

‘What, since so long ago?’

‘No, now.’

‘I’ll give you one minute to tell me. If you tell me the truth you can choose to be tried by a magistrate and go to jail for a few months so you can hide from him or not to be charged for your offence and with a thousand ringgit go elsewhere.’

What a choice! Either way was a way out. ‘I’ll tell you if you hide me in jail.’

‘As soon as you’ve told me I’ll arrange for a magistrate, not here but in Kuala Lumpur.’

Relief spread over the man’s features and out came the story: something about wanting to kill a gwai lo using a chui cheen toong hang dung. He knew ‘blow-arrow-tube’ but the ‘operation’ bit had stumped him so he had just nodded as though he had understood it. The man he knew as Ah Tan would follow the Englishman into the jungle and, once he was engaged with the Temiar, get him shot by a blowpipe.’

‘He told you all that?’

‘Yes, he and I were drinking brandy and he was talkative.’

‘When?’ asked sharply

‘Oh, very recently. He also told me always to stay in sight of the Police Station so I would see the man he was waiting for and let him know when he had come. He’ll see me tomorrow morning.’

Wang Liang shook his head in amazement at the stupidity of over confident and careless people and told his men to take him outside while he made a phone call. He phoned C C Too’s private number, as he had been told to and related the story to him. He heard a deep, deep sigh as his boss tried to fathom where a leak could have happened.

‘Well done, Son of a Bear. Send the man down to me tomorrow, escorted, in the station’s lock-up vehicle but first look up the details of the case, if there are any, that is.’

‘And what shall I tell the Siu Gaau Sinsaang?’

There was no answer for a while as Mr Too considered his options. ‘Say nothing at first. Go with him in the police boat and once you are at Kerinching’s ladang, get all his men and warn them to keep watch and ward.’

‘And how, sir, do you think that Tan Wing Bun by whichever name he’ll be going by will get news to the Temiar?’

‘I don’t know, sadly, but I’m sure he’s worked it all out.’

And he thought he had! The morning after telling the noodle-seller about his plans he drove towards the Police Station, bewildered at not seeing anyone there. Should be there by now he thought but it is on the early side so I’ll come back later. On his return he was glad to see the barrow but the person with it was not the same, merely a lad. Tan Wing Hoong stopped his car just short of the barrow, leant out of the window and asked who the person was and where was the normal vendor?

‘He was taken away by police last night. They came to fetch him after dark.’

Tan Wing Hoong was shocked. ‘Why? And who are you?’

‘Why? How should I know why. Who am I? His fifth cousin and helper. I’ll look after the barrow now until he comes back.’ A thought struck him. ‘If he comes back,’ he added.

Tan Wing Hoong was not sure what to do. He could hardly go to the police and ask them because, as far as they were concerned, it was nothing to do with him. He had not mentioned the fact to the man he had spoken to outside the Police Station – what was his name? – but if he were to go and ask, claiming that the missing vendor was, in fact, one of his men, he might be implicated in his arrest so be under suspicion himself. No, he would have to arrange matters and act on his own. My name Wing Hoong means ‘forever heroic’ so it will all come right in the end. Before he left he asked the lad if he had seen any military vehicle. No, he had not so that meant the man who was his target had not yet come. At least that is one plus factor, he thought as he drove off.

Jason and Chakré left Kluang at midday and reached KL late in the evening, having stopped on the way for leg-stretches and a snack. In KL they stayed the night with the Bear’s widow. Although they hardly knew each other, she was glad to see him as she associated him with much of her husband’s life. She missed him badly and Jason kept her amused with his reminiscences. She was especially glad to think he would be working with her son. She had a phone and, knowing C C Too’s number, Jason rang him to say he was on his way. C C Too thanked him, wished him good luck and passed the message on to Wang Liang in Grik.

They left early the next morning and on the way Jason briefed Chakré on their task. ‘Chakré, I must tell you why I have asked for you to come with me. I have been contacted by the senior Chinese in Special Branch to go into Temiar country for him and I need you as an escort. On the face of it, it is not a difficult task, merely to try and find out how the Temiar are managing without any troops on their ladangs and are there any guerrillas. No contact has been made with these people by Government, police or army for five years. The senior Chinese thinks I am the one man they trust and who can speak to them in their own language. You’ve seen me with them, haven’t you?’

Chakré grinned. Yes he had.

‘Now, there is so much jealousy between the Federation Army and the police neither must know about this journey of ours. Once we get to Grik we’ll be armed. But if the British sarkar were to find out what we are doing it could be serious, even a court-martial with lots of inter-government embarrassment. So we can only hope and pray nothing unusual happens and, if it does, you Chakré must have eyes in the back of your head to prevent any repercussion.’

‘Saheb, of course you can rely on me. But how strange the people in this country don’t have their own men for such a job.’